#and the formatting is really ugly too i hate it here

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day nineteen: hate sex

>>> i’m really taking some liberties with this prompt LMFAOOOOO listen. y’all should just be thanking me this wasn’t a gojo kinktober. leave me be. also this is the first piece since my laptop kicked the bucket so PLEASE ignore the UGLY formatting i will fix it as soon as i get a new laptop.

>>> starring: satoru gojo x curvy!f!reader >>> cw: ghostie gojo jdjdfkgk, bestie nanami, uhh spankings, choking, doggy, prone bone, cream pie, pet names (sweetheart) and mean names (dickhead, asshole) >>> wc: 4.5k >>> event masterlist

everything was perfect. he was a great partner despite all the people that warned you that the special grade sorcerer was incapable of it. he was wonderful and sweet and considerate, even. he brought you lunch at work and took you on wonderfully lavish dates. he texted you constantly and showered you with gifts. you had only been together for a few months, though almost a year of history had led you here. you were happy, proving everyone who doubted your relationship wrong. until you realized that they were only trying to keep you from this reality.

“i love you, you know.” you told him, swinging your intertwined hands between you as he walked you home. this was a truth you’ve known since the relationship was too fresh to say such things, but a truth nonetheless. he hid it well in the moment, but that was the death sentence to a man like satoru gojo. he knew it was only a matter of time—yet his heart stopped in his chest, turning to steel before falling out of his ass. but he made sure his smile never faltered.

“oh yeah? i’ll add you to the list.” he chuckled, poking your side to make you laugh at the stupid taunt. it worked well enough, you didn’t seem to catch on to his avoidance. you didn’t chastise him for not saying it back, at least.

he walked you to your front door like normal. he gave you a goodbye and goodnight kiss like normal, he even smiled so genuinely and told you he’d call you in the morning—just like normal.

but when morning came, his call didn’t. no big deal, you thought, he’s a very busy man. once he gets some free time, he’ll call. but hours pass, and you don’t get so much as a text to apologize or let you know he was going to be late. you keep staring at his contact, debating whether or not you should bother or not for an hour or so. but a text couldn’t be too distracting, so you type something up.

‘good morning! or afternoon now, lol–i missed ur call, i hope ur having a good day!! call me when you can xx’

it doesn’t deliver. you furrow your brows and try it again, but it still doesn’t go through. you move to a different area of your house, thinking it was spotty reception in your bedroom. you try to send the text again—but it still doesn’t send. you try to call, your heart now pounding in your ears. something must have malfunctioned, right? after all your years as friends and these brief months exploring more—he wouldn’t just block you, right?

the phone call doesn’t ring, just an automated voice telling you that that the call couldn’t be completed as dialed. he blocked you. without so much as a hint to why. everything was perfect last night, he was all smiles and laughter, what could have changed? you want to call the only mutual connection you have—ieiri shoko—but decide it’s best not to involve her in the matter between two of her friends. it’s not tasteful and if there’s any chance of this being a misunderstanding, then taking it to your friends is the last thing you want to do. you could maybe ask nanami for advice at work in the morning—you wouldn’t go so far as to call them friends, but he’s how you met the strongest man alive. so he has to have some tips! yes, you’ll talk to nanami about it first thing tomorrow.

talk his ear off about it is more apt if you ask the grade one who merely dabbles in business work. he tried to be polite and listen to the tale—but your first mistake was in dealing with gojo in the first place. there was no advice in the world to fix that amount of stupid, especially if you were looking to get him back. but nanami catches the issue as soon as you recount the tale of your last conversation with the special grade.

“you told him that you love him?” he clarified with a raised brow. based on the judgment that flashes in his eyes, you know that was the wrong move. you huff in frustration.

“you introduced me to him—why would you set me up like this nanakun??” you pout, angrily folding your arms over one another. it’s a shitty attempt to take the heat off yourself, and nanami can appreciate it.

“hardly. he shoved his way in my office and you happened to be in there already.” he rolls his eyes. trust him, he did not want to see more of gojo—and dating his workplace’s secretary only meant that the annoying presence followed him even here. “i strongly advised against it. i knew we would end up here.”

you shoot him a glance, but his unamused face remains unchanging. you ignored everyone’s warnings, choosing the results he was giving you as reason enough for them to be wrong. did he enjoy leading you on and wasting his time? what was the game in all this?

“you shouldn’t have gone after him at all. but you definitely shouldn’t have told him you love him first.” nanami nearly seemed horrified. or what you imagined he would look like when horrified, eyes slightly widened and jaw dropped partially.

you bite the inside of your cheek. you didn’t think it would be that big of a deal. maybe it’s because you knew how you felt for so long. maybe it was just because satoru put you at ease—none of the reasons matter now.

“it’s hard for him to do serious. love is as serious as it gets.” nanami sighs wistfully. you were a nice girl who didn’t deserve to be another name on the list of hearts broken by satoru gojo. for your own good, you should forget all about him and sorcerers as a whole. you would be much better off. but something about that look on your face paired with the fact that he knows satoru has never been happier in his miserable existence makes nanami sigh. “he’s just afraid of committing. the only person he ever loved just up and left him one day. so just…try to let him go. let him come back if he wants—if you want. maybe then he’ll be ready.”

your heart warms at your friend’s words. it was clear he couldn’t care less if things worked out or not, but he wanted you to feel better. you smile softly at his words, “thank you nanakun, i’ll try to…let him go.”

you think you did a pretty good job of that. as time went on, you think you even managed to convince yourself you didn’t want him back at all. if he could just flake out on you—look you in the face and lie—you didn’t want him. no matter how sexy and sweet and strong he was, trust is the most important thing. you keep your head down and work hard, catching up with nanami and learning any updates on your sorcerer that way.

apparently he was casually dating around, but nothing nearly as serious as you. he made sure of that. he hadn’t heard an ‘i love you’ in years, and while he may have thought it at different times throughout the past couple of dates you’ve been on, he hadn’t said it. even thinking it was bad enough. that meant you held an unimaginable and concerning amount of power over him. that meant you could crush his soul into a million pieces. that meant you could ruin him—and he can’t go through that again. the possibility of handing himself over to deep and passionate love was beautiful in theory but terrifying in practice, and the thought of giving in just to lose a second time were odds he just wasn’t willing to gamble with.

so he did it first. if he broke your heart you couldn’t break his.

so why does he feel so bad? so empty? every pretty girl he carted around after that was a weak competitor. they were nice enough, but so shallow and boring—they treated him like everyone else. you were special. you treated him like a person. someone with feelings and dreams and regrets. you asked him questions. real questions that made him think about real answers, nothing surface level like his favorite color or movie. you wanted to know him. and he let you learn just some of his darkest days and you told him you love him anyway. and he ran away from you. goddamn. he’s his own worst enemy.

he shows up with flowers one day, six weeks after you’ve broken up—or he dumped you. it was a normal day until then, but it certainly wouldn’t be after. it was laughably large bouquet, it almost looked like he was struggling to hold it all. your eyes must look like two full moons based off of his amused yet apologetic smile. you have to make yourself stop your smile before it spreads.

“hi…” he said nervously, shifting his weight foot to foot. he messed up—how could he make up for it? “i was wondering—“

“leave.” your shaky voice manages to croak out, quickly looking down at your paperwork. you had to avoid his stare, surely he would figure you all out if he looked deep enough. nanami said to make him work for it.

“flowers aren’t your thing, huh?” he seems undeterred—in fact, he seems emboldened by your reaction. “that’s fine. i’ll leave them here…” he styles them on your desk, sweeping your stapler and pencil sharpener and organizers to the side to accommodate the large vase. you watch him carelessly move things about, forcing you to accept his gift.

“you’re annoying.” you groan, though the flowers are gorgeous. they’re the same kinds you pointed to when you went on a nature walk one time—something he swore he was going to hate but ended up being one of his favorite outings with you. you seemed to have that effect on him.

“i know! one of my better qualities, i think.” he hums happily, chlorinated pools of crystal blue stare at you over the lenses of his casual sunglasses. he traded in the blindfold in hopes of winning you back—he wasn’t above playing dirty, even if he was the reason he had to play at all.

“as opposed to? ghosting?” you raise your brow. he sighs. he doesn’t know what he expected. he knew you wouldn’t fall right back into his arms, but that biting look in your eye makes him wonder if he’s messed things up beyond repair. either way, he won’t go down without a fight.

“yes—that’s one of the bad ones.” he scrunches his nose in distaste. he bends at the waist to lean his elbows on your desk, propping his face up in his hands. “look sweetheart—“

you scoff, leaning back in your office chair with something akin to amusement. you fold your arms over your chest and arch your brow, and even though you are absolutely pissed, you still manage to make his heart skip a beat. “don’t call me that, you fucked me up. or does that it make you happier?”

“you think i’m bringing you flowers for my health or something? i’m trying to apologize!” he whines, tugging a lone flower out of the bouquet and extending it toward you. “i’m an asshole, i know, and i don’t deserve to call you sweetheart—“

“i don’t accept.” you tilt your nose in the air. he swears he can see the hint of a smirk on your lips, and he sighs. you hold the power yet again, but this time he’s going to allow it.

“what can i do to make it up to you? it was a mistake..i see that now.” he frowns, looking down at the pale pink petals brushing against his fingers.

“mm, yeah? i’m sure fucking a bunch of other women helped clear that up.” you look at the flower in his hand too, examining the brightness, the absolute perfection of the petals. it almost withers with the man holding it.

“wh-what?” he blinked rapidly. he hadn’t had sex with anyone—god no, he can’t do fleeting connections, and in his heart of hearts he knew that none of them would fill the void you left behind. but your jealousy…now that he could use. “aw, baby, just say you missed me. i could clear up some things for you too.”

you snarl at the insinuation, even more annoyed that he didn’t deny romping around with other women after dropping you like it was nothing.

“i’m sure you wish you could, baby, but i’m not sloppy seconds.” you take the flower and snap the stem, tossing it on your desk without second thought. he pouts at the gesture, deciding that words were no use on you, he hums. he knows how to handle this.

“no, but you are more delicious the second time.” he sings, and you get up from your desk in frustration. he was so irritating. did he think that he could just disappear on you like that and you’d just forgive him like nothing? you huff up at him, gathering all your stuff and shoving it into your office bag. nanami watches from the stairs—and he’s proud that you’re making gojo work for it, at least.

you stomp out of the office building with all the theatrics at your disposal, and it only makes satoru smirk as he walks after you. god you want him so bad, he thinks. he catches the office door before you can slam it closed behind you, sliding his palm across the wooden panels with a suave coolness. it’s like he has the situation completely under control, strolling leisurely after the little lady stomping and yelling at him over her shoulder. he knows he fucked up, and if you wanted to blast him through the city on your route home, then he’d smile and walk dumbly after you.

your heart was racing. he was still following you—and you knew if he cornered you alone, there would be no denying him. your brain was fighting hard enough to deny him back in the office already. your blood is boiling. why do you want him back so bad? he left you—is sleeping with other women, even, and you're letting him tail you to your house. you shut the door on him, but he just teleports into your living room anyways. you give him a look—not sure what else to say. ordering him out would be futile—as you didn’t want him to and he clearly wouldn’t obey.

he’s smug, sitting on your couch with one long leg crossed over the other one, his arm stretched across the back of the couch like he’s just waiting to put it around you. he stares at you knowingly, but that smirk is driving you insane.

“stop looking at me like that—and get out of my house.” you try meekly, at least you could say you could. your eyes narrow at his unmoving form and he can’t help but chuckle a little bit.

“you’re trying so hard to be mad at me, sweetheart.” he hums, arching a brow in amusement. he bats those long white eyelashes at you like he’s just ready for you to admit the truth and come crumble in his lap.

“i’m pissed, not trying that hard at all.” you scoff and shake your head, tossing your bag on the floor so that you may properly cross your arms at him. “you lied to my face, ghosted me, and now you’re acting like i’m being ridiculous for not accepting your flowers and taking you back?”

he shakes his head, a little nonchalant frown on his face. “you aren’t ridiculous for that—“ he stands and makes his way to you, not even bothering to hide the way he eyes you up and down. “you’re ridiculous for pretending you don’t want to. i could make this allll better if you’d just let me, sweetheart.”

his breath is as icy as his eyes when he leans down, brow arched like he’s asking a question. he is, you realize, he wants to know if you’ll let him.

“i never really slept with anyone, sweetheart. promise. was just trying to get you off my mind. didn’t work—made everything worse, actually. i got what i deserved.” he sighs softly, noting the hesitation on your face but the want in your eyes. he reaches a tentative hand to your face, giving you a soft smile when you let him touch you. “i’m sorry…you’re all i can think about. i just got nervous—i’m so stupid. beyond stupid—“

you smash your lips onto his to keep him from yapping. all he had to do was apologize. really apologize and mean it—but you would still punish him for walking away. you would make sure he could never do it again, lest he’ll never be able to get you out of his head even in death.

his hands grab at your dress, pulling you against his body in one fluid motion. the kiss changes moods entirely. the room feels like it’s buzzing now, his passion felt through the way he moves. he slides over your ass, kneading and fisting the fat with a groan into your mouth. you step into him, backing him to the couch. he grins against your lips like always—his kiss was warm and apologetic, lips hurriedly slotting over yours in an effort to make up for his transgressions.

he falls into a seat, pulling you into his lap with him. he sees your plan, and won’t go down without a fight. he promised to straighten you out after all. but letting you think you’re in charge was adorable, so he didn’t mind to indulge in it. you push his chest back with your own, grabbing his chin in your hand roughly. his back hits the couch and he can’t hold back his little giggle as his hands follow the paths of your body, though a satisfied hum follows at the feeling.

“you are sorry—a sorry piece of shit.” you huff, repeatedly kissing him over and over with all the anger you’ve been pinning up for the past few weeks without him. he grunts lowly, opening his mouth to invite you deeper. you take his willingness as a gift, plunging your tongue in his mouth and making sure yours stays in control. he tastes like honey and cinnamon, and it was a taste you missed more than you let yourself believe.

“pieces of shit must be your type though.” he sasses, standing up with you on his lap. he knows where your room is based on his extensive stays over, it’s nearly muscle memory for him to kick your door open with the point of his shoe, smiling up at you like no time had passed —like no bad blood had resulted from it. he throws you down like you weigh nothing, though he takes a seat on the side. upon hearing you gasp at his words, he scoffs and shakes his head. “don’t even think about it. i’ll fuck it out of you anyway.”

you can’t deny the way your body tingles and warms at his command. he’s usually soft and sweet, just rough enough to satisfy any cravings of yours—but he never struck obedience into your soul. your mouth closes, and he chuckles a little bit at your change. “that’s better. now if you wanna keep poppin’ off with attitude, i’ll get nasty instead of the sweet apology i planned for you.”

you roll your eyes, he was testing it. “don’t tempt me—“ you huff, a little annoyed at how easily your body gives up. you didn’t want to give him the ego boost of obedience, so you give him the attitude requested. “you messed up—i’ll talk to you however I want—“

he sighs and tugs at you, pulling your body at will. he splays you across his lap—long legs hanging over the edge of your bed. your dress is shoved up over your ass, and the tiny string of your thong is drawn back and snapped against the flesh. it makes you squeal a little in surprise, but you would be lying to say you didn’t want more.

“oh i’m a piece of shit, who are these for, nyeh?” he flicks your panties again, the sensation a small pleasurable sting.

“you dumped me—they’re for whoever i want.” you huff at him, even if his jealousy makes your heart warm. he slaps the fat of your ass lightly, humming at the way you jolt.

“yeah?” he smacks your other side, “i didn’t fuck anybody though. knew i needed you.” he spanks the same spot, the sting intensifies so wonderfully and makes your head spin. you can’t help the little moans that leave you with every slap.

“didn’t fuck anybody either, dickhead.” you pant, tossing him a glare over your shoulder. his free hand comes to grab your throat, sinewy warm and soft fingers wrap around your column with a tight grip—though not enough to restrict any airflow, of course. his cock stabs into your side at the sight. he grins brightly, almost sadistic in nature.

“you’re silly.” he hums, squeezing your throat until your eyes cross a little. he hums at you, the vision enough to make him painfully hard, but he always knows when to let up. he slaps your ass in conjunction with his little squeeze. he knows how to keep your eyes on him— repeatedly shaking his head, like he disapproves of you. “so pretty though. but mouthy.” he tsks, giving you a punishing spank to your tender skin. he hums pleasantly at the way your skin breaks a little, his red handprints making their way to the surface. “can’t even accept an apology. what do you want me to do, sweetheart?”

you can’t deny the wetness pooling in that skimpy thong. the stinging through your ass only makes your brain fog worsen, need was the only thing on your mind. he was so strong and sexy, and he was trying to make it up to you. you suppose you could…hear him out. that didn’t mean you were back together.

“fuck me—i’ll make my decision based on your performance.” you purr in his lap, wiggling your branded ass. he groans, you’re going to tease when you look like this? he woulda proposed if you asked him to if it meant you were all his again. commitment didn’t scare him so much anymore. you were as angry as ever and you still smiled when you saw him. you still let him follow you back home to plead his case. even if you didn’t have much a choice, you hardly even put up a fight. and he knew what that meant: you weren’t nearly as angry as you were trying to be.

“oh i’ll fuck you, sweetheart. let’s see if you can take it.” he hums so innocently, scooting you off his lap and onto all fours. he slides your thong to the side, laughing giddily at the sight of your soaking cunt. you definitely weren’t as mad as you were trying to be. “god look at this ocean—i almost feel bad for ya. trying to be such a meanie t’me when i’m the only one that can make it better.”

he wrestles with his pants, pushing them to his knees with haste. precious time was ticking, and stripping completely was a waste of it. he nearly sighs in relief when he frees himself, pumping his length fluidly. you whine at the time it’s taking him to fuck you, wiggling your cute rear and huffing.

“takin’ too long—“ you can’t finish your sentence before you cry out, his cock splitting you open just as you asked for. your walls felt like coming home, and every squeeze you give him was like a warm hug. he can’t believe he denied himself this for weeks just because you said something he’d been dying to hear from someone who meant it his entire life.

“better?” he asks, using your plush hips as his handlebars. this was why you would never be able to move on from him no matter the advice and warnings and every sign in the world telling you ‘no satoru gojo!’ he was just too good, he knew you all too well and your body craved and needed him like water. he fit in your cunt like he was built to, every pump of his cock left you gripping the sheets in an effort to hold yourself up, which you can only do for a few more seconds. “what, too hard? i thought you wanted to be fucked, little one?”

you’re stuck in a silent scream, unable to answer him. you feel like you can feel him in your lungs, his hips absolutely bullying yours. he admires your deep arch even though you’ve fallen forward, your ass rippling into his pubic hair so perfectly he had to reward you with some grunts and groans of his own. he lays over your back, cooing his praises in your ear.

“there she goes, now she’s taking good dick. can’t believe you almost wasted a thong like this— good thing i stay around, yeah?” he shoves your forward just a bit, off his cock and face first into your pillows. you whine at the loss, but he flattens your legs and sits on top of them—squeezing his cock between your thighs and ass, guiding his dick back in. you mewl at the new sensation. how could he possibly be deeper? “awww, that’s a good girl. letting me fuck ya like i hate ya when i’m just trying to prove that i love you too.”

you clench when he says it, moans intensifying as he uses you in this new position. he smirks, you’re adorable. laying there screaming for him with a gorgeously painted ass and a perfect body taking all the force behind his thrusts. “you still love me, sweetheart?”

you nod eagerly, your moans borderline animalistic. “yes—fuck, yes i do, i love you satoru!” you feel him so deeply in your stomach that you can’t keep holding back. it felt like a rubber band snapped as you squeeze around him and cover him with your essence. he keeps going, eyes trained on your recoil and the white ring you left at the base of his cock. your confirmation only drives him crazier, your limp body beneath him taking his increased pace like a champ—little overstimulated moans the only sound he can hear.

“gonna cum in this pretty pussy to show you how much i love you.” he groans, picking your body up in one strong arm to hold you down on his cock. you feel the rush of heat and shudder, the fact he was willing to deal with the consequences of cumming inside alone made you want more of him—until he couldn’t cum anymore. he holds you up, luckily enough— you wouldn’t be able to do it yourself—and places soft kisses to your neck. he hums, enjoying the taste of your skin slightly sweaty and warm from his love. he stays inside you, he can’t bring himself to move just yet, but he sighs in content.

“so…we back together?”

[luxurychristmaspudding]

Clot | Joel Miller

summary: joel has lost something. but once he pieces himself back together, he'll remember what it is.

pairing: jackson!joel miller x f!reader

ratings/warnings: mature. canon typical violence, mentions of blood and injury. mentions of a dead child (sarah), lots of grief, canon suicide attempt, suicidal thoughts. canon divergent. abby wants a cure and she’ll break up families to get it. joel losing a limb and hating himself for it. wanky formatting as a treat. reader has hair but is otherwise not described. no use of y/n.

wc: 3k

an: i can't edit this anymore, it's making me ugly cry.

Everything is hot, heavy, and delirious, 

                                    and Joel has lost something. 

A tight band is wound around his head, and it’s making him ache. It’s making his skin pull taught with blisters, wind and throb with thick blood. For so long, it’s all he can feel. Everything else is too dense.

His head revolves like a planet on strings, like it rolls on some unstoppable, destructive axis between galaxies. He doesn’t know if he shifts and pitches it, or if someone else does, or whether it really moves at all. The whole inside of his skull spins, and between deep, deep black and boiling red, he can feel the acid of that spin climb up his throat and dribble out his mouth. It burns and tastes foul, but he can do nothing to stop it. He can do nothing but spin and float somewhere both within and outside his body, and feel - more than know - that something is missing. 

There is something viscid around him, like he’s been wrapped and bound, like everything’s too tight and too thick. He can’t hear properly, which isn’t something new - but it’s deeper, soupy. It panics him, tightens the skin around his chest.

                                        He’s sure he’s drowning. 

He’s sure he’s drowning, but he doesn’t know how or why. All he knows is that it’s taking him too long to get back to his body, to surface, too long to remember something.

But he is so, so tired. And leaden, everything burning or burned - scarring and flaking and broken and agonising.

When he is something only close to conscious, something a hair away from lucid, he can feel himself twist in clinging sheets, can feel his fingers clutch at a mattress. He can feel broken bones unset themselves in blind fury and fear, can feel bloodlust and scorching wildfires of pain. He can sense loss which grows bone deep, a cavern he cannot turn his face from. High-pitched, too-fast breaths, a wisp of coconut against his chin. Something he hasn’t smelled in so long, something his arms ache to reach out to touch, to snatch, to hold. It’s a desperate feeling. It clings to his chest and cloys his breaths and drips through his ribs, sticky and tar-like, oozes down his body until it fixes him where he lays. He tries to move, he really does. But he can’t match the thoughts with his muscles, can’t see his body, can’t feel his brain. He needs to wake up. He needs to wake up. He needs to wake up he needs to wake up he needs to wake up

he needs to wake up, because he’s failing again. He’s losing again, something is slipping away again. High-pitched, quick, gasping breaths, the clutch of brown curls in his fist, coconut, the wet flash of her eyelashes against his neck, her fear, oh god, her fear, how scared they were, how scared she was, so scared he thought he’d be sick, the clutch of her hands as she pushed against him, as she tried and begged not to move, the blood so much blood the terror in her eyes i know i know i know

                            tommy help me 

come on babygirl, nothing nothing nothing he could do nothing but feel wet, warm blood rapidly cooling in the night air help me don’t do this baby come on please -

Come on, Tommy is saying, come on, we’ve gotta go.

But he can’t. His brother is there, his daughter is here. His body is welded to where he holds his girl in his arms, but his body is nowhere at all. His body is a gaping emptiness of a thing, and he thinks that alone in this vacuum, this grief, this misery, he might consume the whole universe and everything in it.

And he would not be sorry, to destroy the thing that took his baby away. He would not be sorry to destroy the coward who flinched from his own bullet.

                                           He has lost something.

Things are dark for a long time.

There are sounds that reach and pull to him, droplets of rain which patter quietly along roofs and find their way through gaps to drip and run towards him. If he were a body in the dirt, he would grow things. This would be new life. 

But he is not. Instead he absorbs and swallows and pays no attention except to the destruction of what is leaking into him. He gnashes at the darkness he is locked within, wrestles with the lumps of his heart.

When the tenor and tone of their voices becomes tangible, he can taste it.

He can taste the cigarettes he used to share with Tommy while their mama wasn’t looking, he can taste canned ravioli from out on the road to… somewhere. He cannot remember. He lets Ellie and Tommy soothe and lull him in and out of consciousness, lets the swell and tangle of their voices sew shut the gaping wound he has become. Something pulls, something tugs, something that is still missing. Joel searches for it in their muffled conversation, but he can’t summon it. Can’t get them to say it aloud until there is a familiar sound, a name, rough palm pressed to his aching head, a squeeze of a smaller hand to his, and Tommy is saying again come on, we’ve gotta go.

For the first time since the floating darkness began, Ellie’s voice stops. She doesn’t speak, she doesn’t sing. There’s no rhythmic sound of her sleepy breathing, no hollow tone of a guitar. The comfort and company he has heard in Tommy’s voice for days stops, too. He drifts in and out on the swell of a tide, grasping for purchase at a starless shore, and then Maria comes to his ear, quietly furious, outwardly heartbroken. He can’t understand what she’s saying, but he understands the intonation. 

Tommy has always loved so hard, been so loyal. Whatever the reason he’s disappeared, it must be good. And Ellie must have gone with him.

The knowledge brings him no peace, and his shapeless, fervid nightmares become worse.

Echoes of what Maria had said swirl around his brain like leaves circling a drain, illuminating with each dull thud of his tired heart. They’ve gone… they’ve gone… they’ve gone to…

He tries to grapple with it, he does - so hard. Gone to find - He feels like he should apologise. To Maria, for having some part in whatever idiot ploy Tommy has dragged himself and Ellie away into. To others. Faceless, nameless people who he waits to reveal themselves. To Sarah. Sarah.

                                                                      He has.

Every night he has apologised to his little girl for failing to keep her safe, for failing to die instead of her, with her. He has been on his knees beside his bed on so many nights, sobbing into his hands with his full body, the grief making his chest so unbearably tight, his throat raw, and even if he screamed for the rest of his life it would not be enough. It would not be enough. He has apologised to Ellie, so softened and so drowned in sadness that she had to forgive him. Pathetic, broken. But there’s someone else, someone else. A dark figure slouched in the corner, the dark smell of blood. Dark, dark, dark.

A small girl in a hospital gown, a gunshot echoing in an underground parking lot. The smell of her hair, pine needles lingering even after a wash. The heat and pressure of her against his chest.  No blood cooling in night air, but holding her just as tightly. The ache, the ache, the grief years in advance of what he’d have to confess, what he’d have to admit to her. They were gonna kill you. I cannot fail again. A tiny person curled up in a stream of light and grass, the twitch of something long broken in his heart. He knew, he knew even then I'm taking a ride with my best friend I hope he never lets me down again it’s okay babygirl it’s okay it's me i’m sorry i understand it's me i love you. The crack and bright of her grin through an astronaut's helmet, the scramble of limbs through a window. She’s not my kid, not my kid, my kid, my kid, my kid is dead, yeah she’s mine. My girl. Mighty and fierce and blood of my blood flesh of my flesh as close as she can be to -

The twitch of a limb which is no longer there. The phantom ache and strike of pain which should not be able to breach air. 

Without opening his eyes, he can tell. He does not know how long he has been out for, what drugs they gave him, but now, through this crack of bright in his skull he is beginning to understand. Sarah letting him go, Ellie bringing him back - come on, old man, you gotta work it out soon - it’s gone. His leg is gone. The dark, slouched figure in the corner. Smell of blood -

                            Where are you?

His breathing is so quick, so agitated, so panicked and wheezed, his body spasming so tightly that he hears Maria call for the doctor, for something beyond the grasp of his comprehension. He has lost something. He is useless - he will be nothing, he will rot. The people of Jackson will place him outside the wall because they would rather watch him crawl in circles in the dirt than let him back in, useless old man. If he has only one leg, he cannot keep people safe. He cannot patrol, he cannot ride, he cannot walk. He cannot stand to have anyone look at him like he is half a man, have Ellie look at him like she does not know who he is, have you, have you -

have you have you have where are you where are you where are you he wants to grab Maria’s hand where from its place on his mattress to ask her where are you but the doctor where is pressing something sharp into his where are shaking arm you. Hold him still, he says and Joel is powerless against the hands that find him. Useless old man who can no longer fight, no longer protect, and he is so disgusted with himself, so betrayed and overwhelmed by his body that he understands why you haven't been around because you must feel the same.

Disgusting, useless old man. Puckered with scars, beat up and burnt out and mutilated, and you have left you have gone and it clefts his heart in two, wet as the blood between your teeth as you chomp his chambers and arteries somewhere in Jackson, or worse, elsewhere entirely.

Somewhere else, somewhere else where he might never see you again. Something crawls down tendrils to scratch at his brain but he can’t pick at it enough before the burning and the pain and the panic fades again, the doctor’s needle working its magic.

Soft, easy breathing, your face turned to his, your hair tickling the crook of his arm. I love you. Every morning, your eyes so far away at first flutter and then sharp into his, barreling like no one ever had before i love you. A force he could never try to stop, a choice he never could make i love you the inevitability of the promise you made each other i love you, the soft of your hands on his cracked knuckles, the way his nose fits to your neck to breathe you in i love you.

                                                     I love you, be safe.

And through thick, rolling waves of fog, Joel begins to piece it together. He cannot remember what happened, where it came from. Who did it. But you were there. He remembers through dreams he cannot wake from, how you screamed and cried and begged and pleaded from the floor, your cheek pressed into the wood, blood leaking from your hairline. The rivulets of it running across your temple, your cheek, into your eye so it stained the white pink. Your eyes, so wide with terror. How bright, how red, how deep the blood had been. How pretty. The pool and glisten of it as it spread from him, your fingers scrabbling and slipping through it as you tried to reach for his hand. 

He remembers how hoarse you had been as you told them your name.

                                                 No. Not your name. 

Ellie, you’d said. Ellie. I’m who you’re looking for. The thrust of your forearm as you showed them the scarred and gnarled bite mark from the savages who had held you captive for the first years of the apocalypse. The chunk one of them had torn from you in a fit of fury. In low light, it looks little different to Ellie’s, and Joel thinks they must have no idea what the girl he took from the hospital looked like. 

                                 Because they took you instead.

They took you instead.

The shock of it is enough to reel Joel awake. Maria is sat at his bedside, keeping vigil over the man who looks so much like her runaway husband. She is the only one who sees him break this time, who witnesses the gaping, festering wound ripped open, the rot of the universe, the decay of his grief. The way he howls and gasps and cries and begs and pleads where is she i don’t know where are they i don’t know when are they coming back i don’t know i’m sorry joel i’m sorry i’m so sorry if i had known if we had known maria i’m sorry

He does not know how long they hold each other for. He does not know when Maria climbed onto the edge of his bed, does not know if there’s anything more that tethers him to this world than his sister-in-law's arms. 

When he wakes, he is cruelly alone and limitlessly hollow. The room is small and he can focus on nothing beyond that, beyond the press of the walls and how close it feels and the bloodied rags they are using to blot and clean his stump while it dribbles crimson. It’s still clotting, the doctor says, and Joel doesn’t care. He wants to bleed. He would rather die than stay here in this bed, knowing in his heart that you won't come home, won’t survive this. He won’t wait to see whether Tommy and Ellie make it back safely, because if he loses again, if he fails again, there will be nothing left. Empty shell of useless man.

He empties the thin contents of his stomach several times a day into a bowl they keep at his bedside. They pump him full of drugs and tell him eventually the pain will lessen and we’re already pleased with how you’re healing we’ll just keep you in here for a little longer even through he’s already been cooped up for weeks. He hasn’t been able to remember you for weeks. And it’s not his phantom limb, not his broken bones and torn skin he’s recoiling from.

Your screams as they dragged you from the floor, your own pain. Noises Joel had never heard you make before in all the years you’d been together, patrolled together, been at war together. Something awful and ragged and already broken leaving your throat as they hauled you out the door and up the stairs as Joel could only useless old man watch you be taken, watch you sacrifice useless yourself to save him, your family, Ellie and Tommy. Animalistic, strong, straining the tendons in your neck as you stretched to scream, your ankle flopping at a crooked angle, blood drip drip dripping and swiping along the floor, soaking into the wood and that’s all he can remember.

He couldn’t say anything to you, couldn’t help. Not even a last I love you. He had failed. Because he’d heard it in your scream - i love you i love you please stay alive please live just this last thing for me make it out get back to jackson back to ellie live long and be happy but don’t forget don’t forget don’t forget i love you don’t forget i was here and don’t forget nothing but this could drag me away i love you please be safe be alive - and he had forgotten. He had forgotten your promises in his blood and your cries, in your scar and your lie. You would not leave him. Not over a sawn off leg. But you would leave him so he and your girl would live, so he will. He will. He will push aside the maw of his heart and try to fill the space he knows he is wasting. The shift feels light and heavy in his chest. He doesn't know how to be happy in a world without you pulled tight to his chest every morning, but if it's what you ask, he will do it. He will live long and happy and he will sit at that gate every day to wait for you and Tommy and Ellie to come back. He will spend the rest of his life waiting and telling himself he is okay if that's what you want him to do. Don’t forget I love you. Don’t forget I was here.

Sat on the hospital bed, he opens the gape in his chest so it can begin to devour the universe again, to suck you back into his orbit, bring you back to him. He won’t forget again. And when he can, he will start his vigil. He will live long and happy and wait for you to come back, wait for you to smooth this pain to dullness, this ache, this tightness in his chest that makes it so hard to breathe. Wait for it to ease, to deaden. But for now, all he can do

                      is sit and wait 

                                                                 for the wound

                                                                                                                                       to clot.

[siilvan]

bloodsport – IV

prologue | one | two | three | next

characters: vladimir makarov

summary: your first time back in the field is a whirlwind of emotions, especially after being forced to rely on yet another enemy. new information is revealed, and you realize that a drastic action may be the only way to fix this mess.

genre: angst, slowburn, enemies to ?, fem!reader (callsign: petra)

warnings: semi-proofread, cursing, canon-typical violence, descriptions of blood/injuries, poorly written spec-ops, allusions to trauma and stress, reader has a bit of a breakdown, graves lol

word count: 6k

note: giving a quick PSA here— please be mindful about what y'all write. i know this fic is about a very controversial and problematic character, but i try to be mindful about how i portray him and his actions. don't romanticize things that should not be romanticized, and be respectful to people. COD as a whole is problematic, but that doesn't mean we need to be a shitty community. support real victims, don't spread hate. easy peasy.

also, yes, i changed my formatting. the little text is too hard to read without my glasses, so... yeah. hope it's not ugly now :)

you spend the rest of the night tossing and turning, trying but failing to will yourself to fall asleep. soap texts you shortly before the sun comes up - a picture of himself and the rest of the team, posing for the camera. they're covered in dirt and ash, exhaustion apparent in their eyes, but the image is enough to make you crack a smile.

you give them a few hours, pulling yourself out of bed after sunrise and occupying yourself with mundane tasks around the house, before picking up the phone and calling price.

"hey, captain. sorry for calling so early." you chuckle, leaning against the arm of the couch.

"don't worry about it," price clears his throat, hoarse from fatigue, and you wonder for a second if he was asleep before you called. "was just finishing some paperwork. what d'you need?"

a low sigh escapes from you. "i know it's only been a day, but... can i come back? i really want to get back to work."

you can hear papers shuffling from his end. "i know you want to work, but we just can't take the risk—"

"there isn't going to be any risk," you assert, raising your voice slightly and interrupting him. you pause and wet your lips, speaking in a softer tone again. "please, captain, i know i can handle it. i just want to get back to normal already."

the line is quiet for a long moment, with price silently deliberating over your request. you shift nervously, gripping the phone tighter as you wait impatiently for a response.

finally, after you shift for the umpteenth time, he exhales deeply.

"i'll see if i can convince laswell, okay?" he concedes. you can hear his chair creaking as he leans back - you're assuming, at least. "pack your bags. i'll send a transport helicopter in an hour."

⋆⋆⋆

that's how you ended up at base again, with the team welcoming you back with open arms. laswell initially rejected the idea, stating the same concerns as before, but price managed to sway her after some discussion.

so, now you're in a meeting room, gathered around a table with lists, blueprints, names, pictures— any and all of the intel that the task force has gotten their hands on, scattered across the surface. you blink when price raps his knuckles against the tabletop, drawing your attention.

it's laswell who talks, shooting a glance around the table to address the group. "as you're all aware, shadow company has been a target of the konni group in recent times," she starts, sending you a cursory look, asking you for confirmation. you nod, and she continues. "not only have they been fighting the group head-on in al-mazrah, but there's been several incidents with undercover konni operatives in their ranks."

"good, let 'em fuckin' deal with it." soap remarks, earning noises of agreement from gaz, ghost, and yourself. price and laswell aren't as entertained by it.

"general shepherd, commander graves, and their men betrayed us." laswell pauses before letting out a heavy sigh. "i know none of you were happy about the ceasefire, and i know that you were furious when graves resurfaced. but, besides farah's forces, shadow company is our strongest ally."

"—and the only one capable of making any strong moves without risking an all-out war." price adds, shaking his head. everyone's displeased with the situation, that much is obvious.

"where are you goin' with this?" ghost asks. a tense silence fills the room for a long moment, making you shift awkwardly.

laswell motions towards the door on the far side of the room with her head. you cast your gaze in the same direction, watching as the door is pushed open.

as if on cue, the very man that should've been buried in flames in las almas walks into the room. the shadow himself. philip graves.

"oh, fuck off." soap growls at the man, looking ready to lunge at him from across the table. ghost steps forward and, if you didn't know any better, you'd think he was reaching for his sidearm. gaz and price are eerily quiet while glaring daggers at him, and you immediately feel the blood rush to your ears as every nerve commands you to shoot him yourself.

"i know this isn't ideal," laswell attempts to placate all of you, though the cold stare she regards him with betrays her calm demeanor. "but, for now, we're allies. we have a bigger threat to worry about."

"yeah, those konni guys are, uh..." graves perks up, languidly sauntering up to the table. he purses his lips for a second, thinking, before clicking his tongue. "real troublesome. i've lost a lot of good men thanks to them."

"good." ghost mutters, straightening himself next to soap.

price cuts through the tension with a wave of his hand. "alright, none of us want this, but we've got no other options." he grumbles. "konni's moving towards urzikstan. if we want to stop 'em, then we need to cooperate."

you eye graves from your peripherals, recalling the information that makarov gave you a couple weeks ago. graves isn't in on shepherd's plan, but he's likely the only person who knows the general's whereabouts. you need to say something while you still can. how will he take the news, though? he's betrayed you before, he'll do it again if it benefits him.

"petra, you listening?" laswell's voice abruptly interrupts your thoughts. you divert your attention back to her and notice that everyone's focus is on you.

"i have something i need to say," you blurt out. you need to bring up the general before he potentially ropes graves in.

you receive a collection of interested stares, urging you to go on.

"when i was captured, i managed to get some information," you drop your gaze, narrowing your eyes at the documents laid out. "we're not just fighting konni and al-qatala. some of the forces occupying al-mazrah are under shepherd's command."

the silence that falls over the room is almost deafening. the group balks at you with shock and confusion written on their expressions, until graves huffs out a laugh.

"general shepherd's 'forces' are my men. i can assure you, petra, that none of my shadows are workin' with konni." he says with a lopsided smile, confident as ever.

you turn to face graves fully, grimacing. "i'm not talking about your shadows. shepherd has another group under his command."

"what group?" price asks.

"cia operatives. ex-soldiers, specifically." you turn back, eyes flitting between price and laswell. "he's sending men undercover. the unmarked mercenaries that we keep encountering? that's them."

laswell shakes her head and crosses her arms over her chest. "where did you get this information?"

you freeze. your mouth opens to say makarov's name, but for some reason, you hesitate. with a deep inhale, you blink away the odd feeling and force the words past your lips.

"makarov. i'm not sure why, but he told me about it."

yet another unbearable tension befalls the group; you're getting close to ripping your hair out over it. as if reading your thoughts, gaz speaks up.

"you know about this?" he says, directed at graves. he's tight-lipped, glowering at him.

graves doesn't respond, letting the question hang in the air. he looks just as surprised as the rest of you - makarov was telling the truth, then. shadow company isn't in on the plan. shepherd has effectively betrayed his strongest ally, to your knowledge.

"i'm sure there's an explanation," graves utters, chuckling to himself. "war's a dirty business. there's good reason to send men undercover."

"he's got part of the special activities division in his pocket." laswell says.

"isn't that where you pulled alex from?" price hums, earning a nod in reply. it's a bad situation, to say the least.

you regain everyone's attention and continue. "i don't know the full plan, but makarov suspected that shepherd's doing this to put himself back on top. start a war, get himself marked as a hero, reap the rewards."

graves raises a brow at you, amusement written on his face. "and, we should trust the judgement of a terrorist?" he says while searching the room for support.

price keeps his gaze on you, though the distant look in his eye tells you that his mind is elsewhere. "i'd trust this one's judgement." he mutters, jaw clenching.

"well, there's no point in standin' around, is there?" graves seems to bounce back quickly, shrugging off the news. "we've got a job to do and a terrorist to catch. let's focus on that."

"i'll contact farah and see if alex knows anything about the men under shepherd's command." laswell says as you all break away from the table and start to file out of the room.

"keep us updated," price nods to her before turning to the rest of you. "wheels up in thirty. we'll debrief on the way."

you breathe out a relieved sigh once everyone breaks off, heading off to finish any last minute preparations before takeoff. you linger in the corridor, running a hand down your face and groaning into the palm of your hand. of course, you have no choice but to work with an enemy whilst relying on intel from yet another. at least you can be open with your team about this one.

shepherd and makarov are your targets. graves comes after. take down all three, and your headaches are gone. no more doubting yourself, no more questions, no more nights spent looking at lists of crimes that make you feel sick. you can resume your not-so-peaceful life with the rest of the task force and celebrate the world being a somewhat safer place.

your phone buzzes in your pocket, distracting you from your pondering and pulling you back to the present. you frown at the name on the caller id.

it's a single letter: 'v.'

after your conversation - if you can even call it that - with makarov last night, you saved his number. putting his name in your phone is basically shooting yourself in the foot, so you saved it under a name that gives you deniability in the event someone sees it.

you duck into an empty rec room nearby and accept the call, keeping an eye on the door as you lift the phone to your ear.

"you actually picked up the phone this time." makarov remarks upon you answering. your frown deepens, brows furrowing.

"if you don't have anything important to say, i'm hanging up."

he chuckles, far too casual for your liking. "i have an update. something that i'm sure you'll be interested in."

you shift, leaning against the back of one of the couches. "what is it?"

"in case you're planning to return to al-mazrah, just know that shepherd's men have been given strict orders to target and eliminate members of the one-four-one."

a chill creeps up the back of your spine. it's an unsurprising order, but you still rack your brain as to why he gave it. does shepherd somehow know that you know about his plans? it shouldn't be possible— until the meeting that finished just minutes ago, the only people privy to the knowledge were makarov and yourself.

of course, shepherd's allies are aware of it, but the only ally of his that you've contacted is graves. you doubt that he's talked to the general in the short amount of time since, which eliminates graves as a possibility just as quickly as you suspected him.

there has to be another source. someone feeding him information, keeping the one-four-one under watch.

"shepherd's got a mole in our group." you reply, pinching the bridge of your nose. "fucking hell. he knows that we're onto him."

"'we,' lieutenant?" he comments with an amused lilt in his tone.

"my team, asshole. he's got men undercover in your group and in my squad. he's watching all of his enemies."

makarov hums, voice dropping a little. "you have a keen eye, petra. have you asked the shadow about shepherd's whereabouts, yet?" he asks, brushing past your frustration.

"haven't had the chance," you mutter. "based on his reaction to the news, i doubt he'll give it away, though. we might have to get the location ourselves."

he exhales, audible through the phone. "it would be more convenient if you could convince him to tell you."

you roll your eyes. "yeah, of course it would. just don't expect any miracles. aren't you the one with all the mysterious ways of gathering information, anyway?" you grumble sarcastically and move away from the couch, starting to pace around the room while keeping your gaze on the door.

"i can get his location if necessary, but that would eliminate your usefulness in this operation, wouldn't it?"

he's right, and you hate him for it. "you still need me to kill him." you counter bluntly.

"i can do that, too. your team wants revenge for his betrayal. this is me being charitable - don't disappoint."

makarov ends the call before you have the chance to argue, leaving you to huff to yourself in the empty room. a moment later, a head pokes around the doorway, startling you and nearly making you drop your phone when you jump.

gaz is regarding you with a sly grin as he fully reveals himself and steps into the room. your palms immediately moisten with sweat as worry floods your mind - how much did he just hear?

"so, who you talkin' to?" gaz cocks his head to the side, teasing. he's relaxed, standing in front of you with his hands shoved in his pockets.

you pocket your phone and flash a calm smile. "that depends. you have any guesses?"

he chuckles, lifting one of his hands to playfully stroke at his chin as he thinks. "let's see... i know you weren't home for long, but—" his grin morphs into a lopsided smirk as he eyes you suspiciously. "y'got a boyfriend?"

dear god, no.

you resist the urge to gag at the thought and shake your head. "nope, it's just a... friend of mine."

gaz leans forward, an inquisitive 'ah' tumbling from his lips. "a friend, eh? they got a name?" he asks.

"he, uh... just goes by 'v.'"

"'v?' like the letter?"

you answer with an affirmative "mhm," patting gaz on the shoulder as you brush past him. "it's a nickname i gave him. don't worry about it."

gaz groans in exasperation as you stroll towards the door, trying to ignore the way your heart races. lying is a normal part of the job, but lying to your team? generally not recommended.

"most 'just friends' don't have exclusive nicknames, you know!" gaz calls out from behind as you round the corner and start down the hall, leaving him alone.

a sick part of you finds the sentiment - makarov, being anything more than an enemy - entertaining, but your better judgement steers you back on track. you've got a mission to prepare for, and the likelihood of something going wrong is as high as ever. you need to focus on the mission and getting graves to give up shepherd.

⋆⋆⋆

shadow company's gunship is a familiar sight as you climb aboard, slipping past the groups of shadows and finding your teammates gathered around what you can only describe as the command center. graves is standing close by, though the tension is palpable as you approach.

after the aircraft lifts off is when graves talks, addressing the soldiers lining the seats of the craft.

"alright, now i know we've had our problems in the past," he starts, briefly acknowledging your group before turning back to his men. "however, none of that matters right now. the one-four-one is our ally on this mission; treat 'em like your own. copy that, shadows?"

johnny snorts from next to you. "where have we heard this before?" he mumbles.

there's a resounding "yep-yep" from his men, accompanied by several nods and looks in your direction. graves pats one of the soldiers on the shoulder and looks to price.

"think you can lay out the rest, captain."

price starts down the middle row, his voice booming even over the sounds of people checking their weapons, gear, and anxiously shifting in their seats. he moves slowly, practically stalking down the length of the gunship.

"the mission is simple: konni and al-qatala have set up bases across the city. they're using gas, heavy artillery, and stolen weapons to protect themselves." price stops for a moment and lets his gaze drag over the soldiers staring back at him. "i don't think i need to remind you shadows of what konni's done to your brothers in arms. we're going to break off into strike teams - eight men - and destroy these bases. alpha team will take the nerve center in the heart of the city. you already know your assignments."

graves speaks again once price goes quiet. "the commanders are not likely going to be in any of these field bases. but, if they are, then each and every single one of you has execute authority." he announces. "first man to bag an HVT gets a reward." he adds with a smirk, earning light laughter from several of his men.

when the speeches conclude, you settle back in your seat.

alpha team includes yourself, price, graves, and five of the shadows that graves handpicked. ghost, soap, and gaz are leading the bravo team, charged with the largest and best-guarded of the field bases. the commanding chain within shadow company are leading the other groups tasked with the bases scattered around the city.

you fish your phone out of one of your vest pockets when it buzzes, reading the notification on the screen.

there's an agent in your group 11:06 am

not a shadow. special forces. 11:06 am

you frown, angling the screen back and quickly scanning the group. everyone seems to be engrossed in conversation, giving you a chance to respond.

do you have a name? 11:07 am

not yet. he's a rookie. 11:07 am

he's stationed at the base you're staying at 11:07 am

check the files. should have transferred recently. 11:08 am

thank you. 11:08 am

don't mention it. 11:09 am

you're quick to tuck your phone away again, jolting when gaz suddenly addresses you.

"texting your boyfriend, eh?" he laughs, catching everyone's attention.

soap snorts and turns to you. "since when did you start dating?"

you wave them off, sitting up again as all eyes fall on you - even ghost, who is usually horribly uninterested in gossip.

"what are you two, schoolchildren?" you ask, earning playful noises of offense. "he's just a friend. not even a close one."

you're getting yourself caught up in a lie. a shitty one, at that. all it's doing is making people more interested in who you're talking to. at this rate, you'll get caught by the end of the day.

"bullshit— no one in this job talks to a person this much if they're not special." gaz counters, pointing an accusatory finger at you.

price chuckles. "c'mon, gaz. come off it," he lightly scolds the sergeant before looking at you. "just make sure he treats you nice, yeah?" he adds, both teasing and sincere at the same time.

"he's not my— yeah, okay. i'll remember that." you concede, slumping back in your seat.

the topic is dropped not long after, leaving you to relax as people talk around you. after a couple minutes, you can feel your eyelids start to droop, reminding you of how restless last night was. the trip's going to take a while, you might as well get some sleep while you still can.

⋆⋆⋆

everything is so hot. the sun, the ground, your clothes, the air— you.

you don't have any protective gear on, your sidearm secured in your loose grip as you stumble through the ruins where a city once stood.

that's right, you think. the city was destroyed in all the fighting. reduced to nothing more than rubble. you remember when there used to be buildings here; half-toppled and abandoned, but they stood as evidence of life nonetheless.

you falter, landing on your knee and hissing as it hits the solid ground below you. your vision starts to blur as your eyes water, forcing you to rub at them with your free hand in a desperate attempt to clear them.

when you blink rapidly, trying to force back the disorientation and bleariness, you notice a figure directly ahead of you.

an ally. a friend. someone that can help.

you force yourself to your feet and stagger towards them, sucking in a hopeful breath when they start to rush to meet you. the harsh sun— fuck, it's so hot— makes you squint, preventing you from making out a face until they're already pulling you into their embrace, strong arms holding you close to their chest.

"it's okay." their voice— his voice, reassures you softly, one of his hands coming to rest on the back of your head, cradling you impossibly closer. "i took care of it, my dear. you're safe now."

hot tears streak down your cheeks, dirty with sand, dust, and ash, as you wrap your arms around his middle. you try to speak, but all that comes out is a hiccup and a pathetic sob, so you resolve to burying your face in his shoulder to muffle your cries.

you're tired. exhausted, actually. for once in this career, you want to be selfish. you want to be the protected one. fighting, losing allies, killing— it never ends.

he shushes you, but even in your state, you can tell the action is unnatural. gentleness, empathy, tender care... it isn't who he is.

you manage to lift your head enough to look at him, eyes glassy with tears.

makarov stares back at you, his callous gaze betraying the way he holds you. it makes you pause, confused, as you slowly recall why you're even here.

you were fighting konni operatives. there was a missile— no, something bigger. something that decimated the city and would have taken you along with it, had you not ducked into a shelter at the very last second. when you emerged, shaken and dazed in the aftershock, you encountered al-qatala and konni mercenaries alike.

bodies scattered in the streets, men wheezing for air despite blood displacing the oxygen in their lungs and leaking from every orifice, some still trying to fight even as they collapse in heaps of pure agony, writhing on the ground alongside their brothers in arms.

you wince when his fingers trace along the edge of your jaw, his forefinger hooking under your chin and forcing you to look into his eyes after your gaze drifts away.

"their lives mean nothing," makarov whispers, barely audible over the sound of your heart pounding against your ribcage. "not compared to you. you're better, stronger, than them. you will serve me well. you will help me usher in a new age."

he runs the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip, slightly chapped from the dry heat. on instinct, you part your lips, and he moves his hand to cup your face before leaning in to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

it's wrong. this is wrong.

you shouldn't be here. you shouldn't be doing this.

the kiss is a distraction, keeping you occupied as his other hand falls from its spot on your hip. you don't even notice the change until a gunshot rings out, and pain equally as burning as the kiss courses through your veins.

you can't even muster a proper cry as you pull back, one of your own hands flying to the epicenter of the pain, right in the middle of your stomach. your fingers brush against the spot, and you whimper when you lift them back up to your face. dark red stains your skin, dripping down your wrist.

"i just need to fix you first. under my guidance... you will be perfect, my dear." makarov mutters, catching you and holding you up when you crumple against him. he coos at you, sympathetic yet mocking, as he scoops you up in his arms, the world around you going dark.

⋆⋆⋆

you wake up with a start, shifting to the edge of your seat as you frantically rub at your eyes. there's an ache deep in the pit of your stomach, making you press your palm against the same spot as your dream.

this time, when you look down at your hand, you see nothing. a shaky sigh escapes from you at the sight - or, rather, the lack thereof.

"y'all right?" ghost asks, eyeing you from the seat across from you.

"yeah, yeah—" you respond, shaking off the lingering effects of the dream. "we almost there?"

price comes over, having been talking with graves some feet away, and pats your shoulder in acknowledgement. "about to touch down, actually. let's go."

you disembark alongside the rest of alpha team, taking up formation with price and graves, with the few shadow company operatives behind the three of you. reaching the building isn't a difficult task despite the many mercenaries standing between it and your team; as much as you hate to admit it, the shadows are skilled in the field, even with their misgivings.

the building is another high rise, like the one you infiltrated weeks ago, half-crumpled from the effects of the fighting in the city. price leads the group as you all enter it through a sizeable hole in the wall, clearing out the first floor with trained precision.

the group of shadows form a perimeter just outside as you investigate the interior with price and graves, finding it... empty?

"thought you said this was the nerve center," you mutter, turning to the men as they search around, equally as perplexed as you. "there's nothing here."

price shakes his head, standing up from where he was crouched over some rubble. "there was something here. they must've moved."

"they knew we were comin'." graves says with a frustrated huff. "probably just protecting it to keep up the charade. the real control center could be anywhere in the city."

the two start for the exit with you in tow. "could be outside of it for all we know. we need to contact the other squads." price replies before pausing at the threshold and angling his head upwards. you stop several feet back and send him a confused look, before a low rumbling echoes throughout the building, sending dust and small debris falling from the floors above.

the rumbling stops for a second, until a louder, harsher one follows. larger pieces of wreckage start to loosen and threaten to fall, small bits clattering against the ground.

"shit, the building's too unstable— it's gonna collapse—!" price shouts as a metal beam crashes into the ground less than twenty feet away from you.

while price and graves are able to duck out amidst the falling debris, you're forced to dive backwards after a piece of the floor above falls right into your path. you search for a way around it, but as the violent shaking increases and sends more collapsing down all around you, you realize that cover might be your only option.

you scan the room quickly and dive under a pile of slabs and beams, sturdy enough to not collapse under the weight of falling wreckage, but with just enough room for you to squeeze in underneath.

it's only seconds after you find cover that the thundering sounds of heavy rubble crashing down all around you fills your ears, forcing you to cover them with your hands as each crash makes you flinch.

the worst of the destruction is short-lived. a couple minutes pass by before you're willing to move, the occasional piece of the upper floors still collapsing around you every now and then. you let out a trembling breath once you emerge, pure adrenaline coursing through your veins.

the exit. you hastily search for it, but all hope drains from you when you find it and see that it's completely blocked by the wreckage.

"petra? can you hear me?" price's voice crackles through your radio.

you go to respond, coughing harshly due to all the dirt and dust floating in the air. "i hear you— i'm all right," you tear your eyes from the exit and look for another path. it's a big building, surely you can find something. "just stuck in here." you grumble into the radio.

"we're gonna try to find another way in, see if you can meet us somewhere." he says. you can hear graves barking orders at his men in the background. "be careful." price adds in a rushed tone.

you drop your hand from your radio and clutch your gun close as you carefully traverse the field of debris, mentally thanking whatever higher power that the building only partially collapsed on top of you, instead of crushing you completely.

every movement out the corner of your eyes makes you stop and aim your weapon at it; it's highly unlikely - but not impossible - that you're not alone. anyone could've snuck in after the collapse, or hidden themselves like you did. al-qatala, konni, shepherd's men— you have a lot of enemies and very few allies in the area.

you spin around at the sound of something shifting, but only see a few pieces of wood hitting the ground. you're getting too paranoid. you try to steel yourself, breathing deeply, before a smooth voice makes you choke on the air that gets caught in your throat.

"you are very unlucky, aren't you?"

you turn again, gun drawn and finger on the trigger, but stop short upon seeing a friendly...

well, you see makarov standing across the room. it's an enemy that doesn't seem all-too interested in killing you - for now, at least.

"how did you..." you trail off, lowering your weapon.

apparently understanding your question, he vaguely motions behind himself. "there's a breach." he says, glancing over the destruction as he approaches you.

you squint at him as he draws closer, briefly tightening your grip on your gun. he stops several feet away, though, so you allow yourself to relax just a bit, lowering your weapon.

"i figured you'd be staying far away from al-mazrah, it's an active war zone after all." you comment, earning a dismissive look.

"i don't mind getting my hands dirty," makarov utters with a lofty grin tugging at his lips. "besides, we need to talk."

you cock your head to the side, curious. "and, you couldn't call or text me about this? that's been working out so far." you chuckle softly.

he steps closer again, standing a little over an arm's length away. "i happened to be close by." he responds. "this is also something better discussed in person."

you nod, hesitantly slinging your gun over your shoulder to cross your arms over your chest.

"after our last exchange, i managed to gather more information from my... source." he punctuates the last word with a half-assed attempt at a conciliatory smile. "the mole planted within your group reported to shepherd recently; he's aware of our communication." he continues, before you interrupt him.

"wait, no one knows about this, not even my squad." you assert, taking another step closer to him. you're just under an arm's length away, now.

"there was an agent within the group assigned to your care when you were captured. one of the two men that accompanied us on the first day - he listened in on our conversation and delivered the details to the general." makarov speaks in a hushed tone, one you can just barely hear over rubble crumbling somewhere nearby. "the agent on your end tracked you after you reunited with your squad. something of yours was bugged, they heard us that night."

how could he... most of your belongings were clothes, which you know for certain weren't bugged. the only other item that traveled home with you is your cellphone—

"shit," you mumble, practically tearing your vest pocket open and grabbing your phone. there's nothing obviously wrong with it at first glance, but once you pop the case off and check inside, your suspicions are confirmed.

there's a small tracking device flashing red at you, mocking you, and you rip it out before tossing it on the ground and stomping on it.

"he's heard everything," you say, twisting your boot to scatter the broken pieces. "fuck, if this gets out— i can explain this to my team and make do with the judgement, but if shepherd tells any of his friends in their cushy government positions, i'm dead."

makarov shifts, looking past you, but you don't even notice the action thanks to the adrenaline reflooding your system. "that would be an issue," he mutters, reaching for the holster at his hip. "i suppose i could protect you."

you snort, dragging your gaze from your boot to his face. "i'm not joining your side, even for this."

a thin string of red light shines from the darkness behind you, aimed at the back of your skull. makarov follows it to its source, all but ignoring your rejection, as his fingers wrap around the handle of his desert eagle.

a loud gunshot rings out, echoing against the walls. you instinctively reach for your stomach, preparing yourself for the pain you felt in that dream, body tensing up as it flies into survival mode.

the pain never comes. a heavy thump makes you turn, however, watching as a soldier collapses to the ground. unmarked uniform. one of the general’s men.

"shepherd has not earned your blood. if anyone is going to kill you, it will be me." makarov lowers his gun and meets your muddled gaze. "i suggest you reconsider my offer, petra, and give me a call when you make up your mind."

you’re left in that state as he sidesteps and saunters past you, seemingly disappearing into the darkness himself. you’re sure there’s another exit that you missed, one he’s taking to avoid running into your squad.

his offer. joining him for protection.

you'll never follow makarov or his ideals, much less join him for such a selfish reason. if you can kill shepherd, then you can destroy any evidence and get yourself out of this mess. with graves' cooperation and your team to help, that possibility is well within your reach. the only crime you'll have to answer for is severely disappointing your teammates, but they'll understand.

except, there's no guarantee that graves will help, and the rules of engagement prevent you from taking effective action against shepherd. he may be on the run, but he's an american general - killing him could land the one-four-one in hot water with the government.

that'll only lead to more restrictions, more eyes on you, more questions— there's nothing you can do to stop it.

you need someone without limits. someone the government doesn't have their hands on.

you need makarov.

a series of heavy footsteps alert you to a new presence, snapping you out of your trance. you lift your head in time to see price, graves, and the shadows appear from around a large pile of debris in the same direction that makarov originally approached you from.

"petra!" price calls out, jogging ahead of the group and stopping just in front of you. "you broken?" he asks, placing a firm hand on your shoulder and dragging his gaze across your form, searching for any injuries.

"no, i'm fine. nothing major." you mumble, struggling to find your voice all of a sudden. "just, uh..." you lose it again, your tongue darting out to nervously wet your dry lips.

"something wrong?" he murmurs, quiet enough that graves and his men can't hear from their positions farther away.

you can feel every beat of your heart, rapidly thumping against your ribs to the point of making your chest ache. only price can give you approval to do something so risky, so stupid. he'll understand. he knows the job isn't perfect, but you do what you have to do—

"i have something to confess, captain."

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[hoseokhasmyheartxx]

For the writing prompt! 2 and 135 with Namjoon!😏☺️

Come Home With Me | KNJ

*Pairing: fuckboy!Namjoon x f!Reader *Word Count: 2.4k *Genre: SMUT, fluff, FWB-to-??, non idol AU *Warnings: EXPLICIT SMUT, MINORS DNI. jealousy, lack of communication, honestly they’re both idiots; dom!Joon, reader just goes along with it (isn’t really sub/switch/anything); piv sex, counter sex, bathroom sex, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, breast play, nfcm, some fluffy moments scattered throughout because I can never write anything without the feels *Summary: Jealousy is an ugly emotion, especially when it comes to friends-with-benefits. Too bad you can’t hide yours any longer. *A/N: welp this is the first thing i’ve written in literal months, so bear with me if it’s terrible. i finally got some inspiration one night and decided to just go with it. also sorry for the formatting, posting on mobile sucks.

Prompts come from this post!

Main Masterlist

Who would’ve thought that you would end up here.

Staring, frozen, watching the man you love shove his tongue down another woman’s throat at a party thrown by your best friend.

The worst part of this? The worst part of all this is that he doesn’t even know you love him. Sure, you’d been fooling around with him for the better part of a year now, but you’d agreed from day one that it wasn’t exclusive.

Kim Namjoon wasn’t an “exclusive” person. He didn’t do relationships. Everyone knew that. And you weren’t any different. There was nothing special about you that would change his ways. But the knowledge of this fact didn’t change the way you felt, the acid in your throat threatening to come up.

You spun around on your heels, bumping your shoulder against the corner of the wall to your right as you fled from the room. Hissing out a few curse words, you then silently cursed yourself as you knew there was no way he hadn’t heard you. You chose to forget it, making your way back down the hallway leading to the main room.

“_____,” a deep voice from behind you called. You continued walking, ignoring Namjoon’s plea for your attention.

You only made it a few more feet before you were shoved from behind into the bathroom at the end of the hall. You stood still, silent as the door clicked shut behind you.

“_____,” Namjoon repeated.

You slowly turned to face him, not at all wanting to have this conversation. Peering up at him, you watched for any sign of any emotion on his face, but he was unreadable, as always.

“What?” you asked flatly.

“You weren’t supposed to see that.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his statement. Of course you weren’t supposed to see it. That’s why he did it far away from you, or anyone else who may have seen. But, as luck would have it, you did see it.

“Look,” Namjoon sighed, “We aren’t exclusive. But even so, I’m not trying to flaunt any hookups right in front of your face. I’m not that much of an ass.”

You scoffed. “Oh, thanks so much for your consideration. I’ll make sure to ask you if you’re bringing someone the next time Jimin has a party so I know to stay home.”

You moved to step around him to exit the bathroom, but were stopped by his large hand grabbing your waist.

“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?” Namjoon asked, eyes boring into yours.

“No.” You averted his gaze, refusing to look at him any longer. You weren’t in any position to be jealous when you knew he wasn’t yours. But you were, and you hated yourself for it.

Namjoon lifted his other hand, gripping your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look at him.

“Don’t lie to me. Are you jealous?” he repeated.

With a shaky breath, you nodded.

“Why?”

“I just— I just am,” you choked out.

You watched as Namjoon tightened his jaw, glaring down at you.

“You are the one who said this was just fun. You said you weren’t looking for anything serious. How can you be jealous?” he questioned.

“Of course I said that, Namjoon. You don’t do relationships. What was I supposed to say, that I expected you to change everything about yourself and make me your girlfriend?”

His fingers never left your chin, eyes never left yours.

“If you didn’t want something casual, why would you agree to this? That’s not fair to you,” Namjoon asked, stroking your cheek.

Your anxiety over him possibly finding out how you felt was ebbing. This was one of many effects he had on you. Without even trying, he could ease your mind, calm you down, with the slightest of touches.

“Because. That’s— that’s the only way I could ever have you,” you finally admitted.

He furrowed his brow, staring down at you still.

“You’ve always had me,” Namjoon said, voice lowered, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you against him. His lips captured yours in a desperate kiss, his other hand moving to grip the side of your neck.

You returned the kiss, hands coming up to fist his shirt. He backed you up against the bathroom counter, trapping you there, lips not leaving yours. His tongue swiped across the seam of your lips, pulling a small gasp from you as you opened for him. His tongue overtook yours, his mouth engulfing you in passion and burning you from the inside out.

As he pushed you harder against the counter, he broke the kiss, his chest heaving against you as he steadied his breathing.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

You struggled to form words, brain still foggy from his dizzying kiss. “I was scared you wouldn’t feel the same way.” You traced circles on his chest, avoiding his gaze.

“I would have. I mean, I do. C’mon, think about it. I don’t stay the night with my hookups. I don’t call my hookups in the middle of the day just to hear their voice. I don’t… I don’t do any of that stuff with anyone, except you. If you would’ve just told me how you felt… you would’ve been mine a long time ago,” Namjoon breathed out.

You looked up at him, small smile curling on your lips. Standing on your tiptoes, you kissed the corner of his mouth, working your way across his jawline and down to the space just below his ear. Nipping at his earlobe, you wrapped your arms around his neck to hold yourself steady on your tiptoes.

“Shut up and take your pants off,” you whispered in his ear. You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, knowing what was next.

Namjoon needed to be in control. Any hint of dominance shown from his partner, and it flipped a switch inside of him. His eyes darken, pupils blown out with desire.

Just like that, he ripped your shirt over your head, claiming your lips again as he reached behind you to unclasp your bra. His large hand immediately moved to your breast, massaging it as he sucked your lower lip in between his teeth. He bit down, not hard enough to really hurt but still enough to get your attention. You hissed, and Namjoon sucked your lip back into his mouth, easing the pain.

He lowered his head, wrapping his full lips around a nipple, beginning to lick and suck at the pebbled nub. You whine, encouraging him to continue. His sucks grow stronger, jolts of pleasure coursing through you, straight down to your core.

His fingers work to unbutton your jeans, pushing them down your thighs with both hands, his lips moving from your breast down to the flesh underneath it. Kissing down your stomach, he dropped to his knees, pulling your jeans the rest of the way off, lifting each foot carefully to rid you of your bottoms.

Standing in just your panties, with Namjoon on his knees in front of you, leaves you feeling vulnerable but highly aroused. The cool air from the bathroom vent makes you shiver, goosebumps pebbling your skin. His hands trail up your thighs, grabbing the waistband of your panties and tugging them off.

Suddenly, he’s lifting you up, sitting you on the edge of the counter, draping your leg over his shoulder. You gasp, reaching for anything to help you find your balance. Your hands settle on the countertop just as Namjoon pulls you forward, pushing your other leg away to spread your center.

Before you have a chance to get your bearings, Namjoon’s mouth is on your pussy, tongue warm against your flesh. You gasp, watching as he dives in. His tongue traces around you, avoiding your most sensitive spot as he looks up at you, cocky glint in his eyes.

“Fuck,” you breathe out as Namjoon’s lips finally claim your clit, sucking just a bit before he lets go. He licks broad stripes up and down your center, lips dragging against your clit every time he passes it. He holds your thigh tightly, keeping you still as you squirm underneath his ministrations.

His other hand comes up to your center, fingers tracing around your hole. You jolt, the new sensation only adding to your pleasure. He slowly inserts one finger, then two, chuckling against you. Pulling his mouth away from you, smirking, he teases, “This all for me?”

You nod, hand coming down to card your fingers through his hair. “Yeah, just for you.”

Namjoon begins pumping his fingers in and out of you, causing you to arch your back, your shoulders resting against the mirror. You pull your free leg up to rest your foot on the counter, spreading yourself more for him.

His fingers find your spot with ease. After all, he knows your body better than anyone else. You moan, tensing as his tongue reconnects with your clit. His movements become hurried, sloppy. The noises caused by his fingers thrusting into you fill the tiny bathroom, your juices dripping down his palm and wrist.

Your whines grow higher-pitched as you cant your hips, grinding your pussy against Namjoon’s tongue. He doesn’t relent, tongue working through your folds, hitting all your spots.

“Joon—,” you gasp, feeling the knot begin to tighten in your stomach.

“Yeah? Come for me, baby,” Namjoon growls, “Now.”

With a few more flicks of his tongue, you’re coming undone, falling over a precipice that you never want to be on again. Your muscles tighten, your pussy clenches around his fingers as your moans tumble out and you grasp at his hair, tugging him closer to you.

His big hands grip your thighs, fingers leaving indents in the skin. He doesn’t stop mouthing at your folds until you’re pushing him away, overstimulated and over exerted.

Namjoon stands, letting your leg fall from his shoulder as he meets you face to face, his hands resting on the edges of the countertop. He kisses you, his plush lips brushing against yours lightly before he rests his forehead on yours. Your breathing steadies, his presence calming you just as it always does.

“Baby,” Namjoon breathes out, his chest heaving.

“Yeah?” you ask, hands moving to the hem of his shirt, lifting it to remove the garment. He backs up, letting you lift the shirt up his torso and off his body with ease.

He kisses you again, desire glinting in his eyes. You watch as he undoes his belt and works his jeans down his thick thighs, still standing in front of you. His erection is obvious, tenting the front of his black boxer briefs. He palms himself, tipping his head back as he lets out a ragged breath.

“Let me fuck you, please.”

Stepping out of his boxer briefs, he closes in on you, hands gripping your thighs as he kisses you slowly, his tongue lazily working its way into your mouth.

“We don’t have a lot of time…” you trailed off, hands gripping his waist as you pulled him even closer to you.

“I know,” he mutters between kisses, “I swear I’ll make it up to you.”

You nod against his lips, pulling his body in between your thighs, gasping softly as his length makes contact with your core.

He grips himself, rubbing the head of his cock through your folds until he’s at your entrance. You brace yourself, mentally preparing. He pushes into you slowly, inch by inch, until he bottoms out against your pelvis. You take a few breaths as you adjust to his size, resting your forehead on his collarbone.

“Can I-?” Namjoon whispers, kissing slowly down your neck to your shoulder.

You nod against his shoulder, wrapping your legs around his waist just as he pulls out and thrusts back into you. You choke out a moan, Namjoon’s hips already snapping into you at a relentless pace.

His hands latch onto your hips, pulling you farther onto his cock, hitting deeper than ever. His cock drags against your walls, the angle allowing his cockhead to touch at your g-spot on every thrust.

“Don’t-,” Namjoon begins, struggling to steady his breathing as he continues, “Don’t ever question how I feel about you again. Understand?”

You whine his name, your mouth falling open as your head lolls back. You’re almost limp in his arms, letting him take you the way he needs.

“Understand?” Namjoon repeats, grabbing your chin to kiss you.

“Yes! Yes, I understand,” you cry out. You throw your arms around his shoulders to balance yourself, holding yourself up as Namjoon pulls you to the edge of the counter. His hips begin to stutter, telling you he’s close to his peak.

“Baby,” Namjoon repeats for what feels like the tenth time in the span of twenty minutes.

“Come inside me,” you gasp out, feeling yourself near your second high of the night.

Namjoon groans, pushing his cock as deep as he can. He stills against you, his fingers bruising the flesh of your waist as he comes. His face falls to the crook of your neck, his hot breath fanning over your skin as he pants, his hips jerking as he fills you up. He reaches between your bodies, fingers rubbing your clit in circular motions until you cry out, coming on his cock just like he wanted.

Your fingers dance across his shoulder blades as you breathe with him. Your chests rise and fall together, neither of you moving.

“We have a lot to talk about,” Namjoon starts.

You giggle and nod. He kisses you once more, slowly pulling out of you.

“We do, but we have a lot of time for that. Come home with me?” you ask, leaning up to kiss his jaw.

Namjoon looks down at you, pupils beginning to dilate in lust again. He caresses your jawline, pulling you closer to him.

“Let me make it up to you when we get there.”

You nod, following his lead to clean yourself up and make yourself presentable before exiting the bathroom. Before opening the bathroom door, Namjoon turns to face you, holding your hands at your waist, squeezing them gently as he smiles a soft smile.

Who would’ve thought that you’d end up here.

Staring, frozen, smiling up at the man you love, knowing that he loves you, too.

[bonefall]

do you have any plans for willow tail?

No solid plans, just little fragments that I'm fond of.

I do actually like the bunny bone idea, in some ways. I like how it starts. She sees Red Claw just sunbathing on the moor, can't stand the idea of seeing his ugly mug around, and comes up with a way to get him in trouble. It's so petty!!

"Ohh I'll get my revenge on him! First I'll eat my lunch, and then I'll CLEAN my lunch, and put it on the border, and say that he is eating our rabbits. That will make Wind Runner yell at Clear Sky, and he will yell at Red Claw, and he will never sunbathe here again aha HA HA it's BRILLIANT, BRILLIANT, BRILLIANT!" Ok Yzma. I love you.

Mundane bullshit I love it so so much. She just ate her lunch for the drama.

That's such an interesting idea for a conflict, y'know? I love it so much more than "IT WAS ALL FOR REVENGE." What starts as petty, easily resolvable drama escalates because Clear Sky is SO easy to offend, which makes Wind Runner dig her own heels assured that she's right, and then eventually Willow Tail can't back down because it's gone too far and she hates Red Claw too much.

And even Moth Flight. I wish they did more between Willow Tail and her, as friends and allies. They both hate Red Claw for getting people they love killed, it would have been a lot more interesting seeing the two of them commiserate and confide in each other.

(but if moth had friends, then you can't do the stupid celibacy rule because then the clan would. like. help her babysit a little. which they offer to do, btw, canon moth flight is just such a freakazoid that she rejects all help. its a bad book, brent)

It's also interesting the way that Clear Sky is, again, a monster in this book. He clawed her eyes out, for the crime of "stirring up trouble." Then he stepped aside and told Red Claw he could do whatever he wanted with her. It would be a shockingly violent thing even for someone who earned that level of brutality. I really expect no less from the SkyClan tyrant.

(it's not lost on me btw, that the writers will go to bat for Tom the Wifebeater and give him a redemption death but then show Willow Tail suffering and dying slowly on screen for Clear Sky's vindication. They don't see him as the demon they wrote him as.)

Anyway... time for Fragments Proper.

BB!Willow Tail

TO BEGIN WITH: BB!DOTC is the one arc that I have no intention to stay faithful to. I do not value "sticking close to canon" the way I do with the others, it is not a consideration. It's a total overhaul-- with Gray Wing being killed in book 1 and xeir roles taken by Thunder Storm's mother, a language barrier between Park Cats and Tribe Cats, and a totally different order to the formation of the Clans.

Moth Flight's Vision is now Moth Flight's Vow... and there's no room for Willow Tail's bunny bones drama anymore. It's a completely different story with a brand new origin for the Cleric's Vow.

So if the Bunny Bones drama remains, it'll have to go somewhere else

Though I do like it, I'm also nonplussed about losing it.

I feel like the Bunny Bones plot works best with Skystar as the antagonist, because no one else is nearly as easily offended as him... but at the same time, I have a really solid plan for him losing 8 lives to Star Flower's Ritual, and then his final picking a fight with the River Kingdom, winning a significant amount of territory.

But, it would also be VERY cathartic to have Skystar's final death be just after gouging Willow Tail's eyes out, with someone deciding ENOUGH IS ENOUGH and even if Willow Tail did lie, she doesn't deserve to be tortured.

I'd be inclined towards doing the Bunny Bones plot the way I described liking it; as petty drama that got out of hand, but really revealing Skystar's true colors.

Hmm... maybe I'll make it a Tiger Sky novella, and have this be the story about her deciding to leave SkyClan.

(INFO for those who don't recognize the name: Tiger Sky is the BB version of one of the Angel Fetus Children they gave Clear Sky. She is the daughter of Falling Feather, and half-sister of Thunderstar.)

Anyway-- depending on if Willow Tail ends up being a Park cat or a Tribe cat, her name could be very different. The Wind Coalition is Park-culture, so they're born nameless and earn titles over time.

It's likely she won't end up with Willow Tail as her name, but something more like Willowbark Weaver, or Willow Flayed Bare. Willy for short.

Windstar's Revelation, a direction given by Gray Wing the Wise in the aftermath of the First Battle, is to begin innovating and moving away from violence. So I can see Willy earning this title after demonstrating excellent uses for willowbark.

Her childhood name was different. The first name a Park Cat wears is [Mentor]'s Paw, and before that, they have a simple physical descriptor.

So first of all I need to pick a mentor for her, and I'll only figure that out after making a loose allegiance list

And second of all, her baby name was probably Tabby, and her brother's was Mottle.

Speaking of her brother, though...

I don't like how they broke Frog's back and then just had him die on the way home. I dislike the trend in this arc where several cats get disabling injuries (Moon Shadow, Frog, Tiny Branch, Willow Tail), only to die of them shortly after.

So I think I will be keeping Frog alive, especially to point out how they dealt with a paraplegic cat in ancient times in contrast to modern times, with Wildfur and Briarlight.

Which means he will also need a new name and chosen mentor, if he's a Park cat. But anyway...

Their ages might get shuffled, but at their very oldest, I want them to both have been young during the First Battle.

And that's what I've got, so far!

[whatsaneggimcis]

Signs everything I thought I knew was wrong

I needed to dump my thoughts and feelings somewhere because I feel like im annoying my support group. I think my egg finally cracked Wednesday and immediately I had to start researching and buying gender affirming things. Anyways, here's my list of signs that I wish I had seen like a decade ago, please be kind I'm very new to opening up like this

Another Girl in elementary threatened me with makeup and cross dressing and I wanted it bad.

I think this one is such a major factor in why I feel like this has to be real. Its well before puberty and well before I knew transitioning was a thing. Just a natural thought for someone who’s the wrong gender

Multiple times pleading with god to just make me a girl

Still cis tho obv

Thinking if I held still for long enough in bed, some sort of magic would make me a girl and fix this wrong body of mine

I still remember the dreams where im a girl, i legit became proficient at lucid dreaming just for it.

Ah fuck the egg_irl memes are hitting too hard

My favorite game character is Bridget, listening back to the song is hitting really hard actually

Legit had an anxiety attack and took a day off work because my transfem friend said “careful, i said the same thing before i came out”

Wishing i had magic to turn myself into a girl

Playing female characters just to feel cute

Putting on leggings in highschool, then sleeping in them

Some female mannerisms

Kinda hating my poor skin but couldnt do anything about it since thats only for women am i right fellas

Mild euphoria when someone says good girl

Envisioning myself as the girl during fantasies

Jealousy over a womans body

Ive never seen any man sit cross legged at a table the way i do, idk why that one pops up but i’ve seen plenty of other girls do it

Desire to steal womans clothing to cross dress

At current moment I have no desire to bite my nails because I want them to grow out, even though I was a nail biter for 27 years

In pre school, tried to convince another girl to swap clothes with me

In pre school, loved pretending i was at a hair salon and the other girls in the school would give me a haircut. It gave me ASMR

Speaking of ASMR, I like exclusively listen to makeup, nail and hair roleplays

Feeling like i dont want to transition because I could be ugly

After realization, I dont have nearly as much of an appetite, maybe subconscious bodily sabotage in the form of overeating

Not seeing any future when I tried to plan my life better, before I ever considered the option of becoming trans

Feeling hurt when my dad made somewhat transphobic comments about my trans cousin

Wondering what my parents would do if i woke up one day as a woman and had to explain that to them

Genuine euphoria at the idea of trying on womens clothing, but thinking that i was weird and kinky

Playing with stuffed animals with my best childhood friend, a fellow girl

Hating my balls

I bet it feels good to cry, its probably cathartic

Hating body hair god i hate this so much, I’m just bad at shaving it and dont want to be covered in razor burns and have to explain to coworkers why I shaved my legs and arms

Hating my nose

Adopting a super masculine persona

Forcing myself to have a much deeper voice to not feel any of my true feelings

Actually seeing a future after considering becoming trans

Being hurt by transphobic comments at work before I realized my egg status

Was I sending what they said to my friend because i was hurt by it and wanted reassurance?

When i started drawing again, i had no desire to draw “cool badass epic shit” i just wanted to draw super cosy watercolor paintings.

God damn it i’ll say it, I fucking love pastels. Both the art medium and the color spectrum

Repression of my desire to dance and sing, or I guess express myself in any format due to internalized transphobia

“Mens fashion is so lame, girls have it so good. Im cis tho”

Pure depression my entire adult life

Wanting genuine friend connections with women in a more feminine way

Never caring about going out and buying clothes because none of them worked for me

Trying to force myself to not look at girls clothes because “thats only what weirdos do”

On this topic, how the fuck did i think this shit was normal… i wasnt watching women or anything, its not like i was being creepy in reality. I just wanted to see the womens clothes. Why is that such a bad thing for someone to want

Being jealous of my friend since he was openly wearing his girlfriend’s sweatshirt

Dude i stared longingly at a pink gamer girl chair, still cis tho

Speaking of gamers, being super jealous of C9 Sneaky that he could pass so well and was totally fine with showing that whole side of himself online. Same with Finnster.

I think i hate my voice, ever since realizing this about myself i cant help but hear my voice and think its not me

Being afraid to see a therapist because im not sure honestly

Fearing crying, but that might not be internalized transphobia and actually just be a side product of the vice grip on masculinity in society

Daydreaming about becoming a girl

General body dysmorphia

I want to cry but i cant, why cant I cry why

[a-french-coconut]

Drew Tanaka (Part 5)

Her afternoon is rudely interrupted by a fire breathing mechanical dragon landing right in the middle of the cabins.

While Clarisse orders her siblings in a battle formation, Drew makes sure Lacy and Mitchell are nowhere near the beast.

"DON'T SHOOT, WE COME IN PEACE." Someone yells from the dragon.

"LEO VALDEZ," Nyssa screams furiously, lowering her hammer, " What were you thinking bringing him here, on Camp's grounds ?!"

"I fixed him ! He's not a threat anymore," Leo proudly proclaims, "and I find our way of transportation !"

Hesitantly, all campers lower their weapons, still eyeing warily the dragon.

"What's his name ?" Jason asks.

"Festus ! His name is Festus."

"Sooo, we are going on quest on Happy the dragon ?" He arches an eyebrow, amused.

Leo nods and gestures him and Piper to climb.

"Come on guys, we need to go. We have a deadline to respect."

Jason's demeanour grows serious and Piper and he rush to get their bags before joining Leo on top of Festus.

"Good luck heroes, may you come back to us in one piece and with your quest accomplished !" Chiron wishes to them.

"Woah, that's not creepy at all. " Leo grumbles, " Come on Festus, vamonos !"

Under the campers's applauses and cheers, they soar in the sky.

Good luck McLean

"If they don't die, it's a miracle." Connor says next to her, "they have no training and no critical thinking it would seem. Who the fuck brings the dragon that almost paralysed your brother in the middle of Camp, where it could had kill us all ?"

""Don't jinx them Stoll, they don't need your bad luck."

"Eeeh, you're right. Got a cabin to save from burning down, see you later."

Drew goes back to her daily activities, Piper's absence not really noticeable.

Well, mostly.

It would seem her dear sister managed to convince Mitchell and Lacy not to listen to her anymore, something Drew would be quite proud of if her authority wasn't being contested.

"Why do you mean you want to stop archery ? You can't do that Lacy."

"But I suck at it ! My arrows don't even touch the target !" her sister whines, "Nyssa lets Harley skip archery, why can't I do it ?"

"Because Nyssa has a curse to deal with, I do not. So as long as I'm counsellor, you're not stopping archery."

"But-"

"No, no point in discussing this." She firmly says, daring Lacy to contradict once again.

Instead, her little sister's eyes shine.

"I hate you ! You're the meanest sister ever ! Silena was always kind with me."

"Silena tried to kill you," Drew says with a strained voice, restraining herself from screaming at a twelve years old girl, "That's not what I would call kind."

"Silena wouldn't ever hurt me ! But you did ! Making me wear the shoes of shame and always forcing me to do things I don't want to do."

"I'm protecting you-"

"You're hurting me !"

The pain in Lacy's voice makes her falter and she truly sees her little sister for the first time in long while.

The way her eyes are wet with tears, when was the last time she saw them sparkling ?

Or smiling, showing those horrid braces of hers ?

Who braided her hair ? It's bad work, strands of hair falling out from everywhere. Drew could make a better one with her eyes closed.

So why didn't she ?

"Lacy, I-"

what ?

I'm sorry ?

"I'm going back to Hermes Cabin and you can't stop me."

Without letting her answer, Lacy runs out of the cabin, probably to beg Connor and Travis to let her sleep in theirs.

You're hurting me !

No, no, no, she doesn't understand.

She's shielding her from the future pain.

Right ?

You're hurting me !

You're hurting me !

You're hurting me !

You're hurting me !

Stop, make it stop.

"I'm helping you !" she screams to no one, in the empty cabin.

"I'm..."

protecting

"myself."

The realisation, the truth she had buried deep down, comes out, ugly and sharp.

Pushing Mitchell and Lacy away, Heloise and Thomas too, all of that to prevent another Silena.

She wanted everyone to not like her so that when they leave her, she would not feel the pain.

She knows she's been mean but-

Had she been cruel ?

To her siblings ? The ones she loves deeply ?

Surely not

Making Lacy wear the shoes of shame.

Throwing out Mitchell's clothes.

Even Piper, who didn't really did anything to deserve that greeting.

Had she become what she hears ?

A cruel and heartless bitch ?

"Hum, Drew ?"

Connor is standing awkwardly at the door, looking very nervous.

"Lacy just asked me to, hum, sleep in my cabin tonight ? So, I wanted to ask, is everything okay ?"

"No, I've just come to the realisation that I'm a poison, rotting everything I touch." She says drily.

Immediately Connor rushes to her side, gently seating her on her bed before seating next to her.

"That's not true, look at me, Malcolm and Will ! No poison for us !"

That makes her laugh a little but the weight of Lacy's words did not lift that easily.

"I've been a true nightmare to my siblings, Connor. I treated them badly because I'm selfish, maybe I should give up my position as counsellor." She says bitterly, "Clearly I'm not up to the task."

"Drew," Connor's voice is serious, a rare occasion, "you are allowed to make mistakes and you are allowed to be selfish. We went through a war and we all have a way of coping. And the others, they don't understand our pain. It's not their older brother or sister that stabbed them in the back after promises of never hurting us."

"But Lacy and Mitchell don't hate Silena the way I do." she says miserably, hugging her knees closer," I think there's something wrong with me."

"Nothing is wrong with you, Drew. You haven't been allowed to grief like you should have, that's all. Nobody allowed you to hate Silena when you have the right to. It's not the same for me. Even though Luke is seen as a hero, he is still despised for his acts whereas your sister isn't."

Slowly, the burden on her shoulders becomes lighter.

"You're good at this, Stoll."

"I had time to practice," he gives her a lopsided smile, laughing when she nudges him.

"Come on, I'll lead you to Lacy, you two need to talk."

"She hates me."

"No, she just doesn't understand why you treated her like this. And she's right, you made a complete 360° after the war. And while it's clear for me why, Lacy is young and had arrived just one year before the battle of Manhattan. She doesn't have the full picture."

Drew sighs but allows Connor to bring her to Lacy.

Her little sister is at the beach, half heartedly drawing in the sand.

"Go on, apologise."

"Okay, Isabella, I'm going."

Connor rolls his eyes but dutifully leaves her alone with Lacy who only registers her presence when she seats next to her.

"Go away."

Drew flinches at her sister's firm voice but doesn't let it deter her.

"I want to tell you a story."

She smiles softly when she sees her sister perks up.

"Remember when I told you bedtimes stories ?"

"Yeah, those were nice."

"Do you want to hear another one ?"

"Does it end happily ?" Lacy asks, still hesitating.

"I hope so."

When her sister turns to face her, Drew takes it as a cue to begin.

"It's a story about two sisters named Celine and Maria. Maria was the youngest and she loved with all her heart Celine. But see, she discovered that Celine was working with the enemy-"

"Who is the enemy ?"

"-Lucas, and was feeding him informations about Maria's friends that lead to their death."

"Drew", Lacy frowns, "that story looks a lot like-"

"Let me finish, please. It's important you hear it entirely."

"Okay, I'm listening."

"When Celine died and the truth was exposed, no one put the blame on her except for Maria, who felt betrayed and deeply hurt. And so, she made a promise. To never let anyone get as close as Celine was to her, so that she would never feel that kind of pain again."

"Oh, Drew..." Lacy whispers shakily, "does Maria have other siblings ?"

"Yes, she does and-", her own voice breaks, "she loves them so much. But she was too selfish and in order to keep them away, she hurt them. It's something she regrets and will never forgive herself."

"Is that the end ?"

"Yes, but who knows ? It can change."

"Can I change it ?"

"Go ahead."

"Maria doesn't forgive herself but her sibling does, at least her little sister." Lacy tells her firmly, looking at her in the eyes. "Because she loves Maria a lot and despite the hurt she caused, she just wants her big sister back."

As soon as Lacy finishes, Drew hugs her tightly, allowing for the first time in long period to cry in front of someone else.

"I'm sorry Lacy, I'm so sorry sweetheart," she sobs, cradling Lacy in her arms.

"I forgive you, Drew but please, don't ever be mean like this again." her sister quietly asks.

"I won't, honey. I won't." She says, softly kissing her sister's hair.

"Now, let's go back to the cabin. Mitchell must be searching us and I won't tolerate sand much longer."

On the way back, she sees Connor from afar who raises an eyebrow questioningly.

His beaming smile when she picks up Lacy to give her a piggy ride, her little sister laughing loudly, settles a sense of calm in her heart.

Maybe she isn't a so bad big sister after all.

DREW ARC REDEMPTION >>>>>

I'm still going to make her fight Piper over the counsellor position but don't you worry, it's going to make sense when it happens.

Their relationship is far from friendly and Drew is still sour about Silena despite talking with Lacy.

[eldathsgrove]

The Talk of the Town

I finally finished my art project!

Gift and process under the cut

As a treat, I saved the frame separately, so other people can use it for their toxic ships 👀 please tag me; I want to see them 👀

Now, I want to walk y’all through the process for this, because I think it’s hilariously odd

I can’t picture things. At all. I get the impression, like the brains reaction to having seen something, but no actual visuals, so…

There were at least two different version I tried to work through first; I really wanted to draw AAstarion with his corset visible, but I just couldn’t make it work

I started this one by turning these two into 3D models with Hero Forge, and posing them

With some paper on top of my laptop, I roughly traced their outline, and then drew a grid on top of it 👀

So…do you remember those pages in coloring books where you’re supposed to use a grid to redraw a picture? I always hated those, but that’s how I got the outline into my sketchbook 🙃

This is what I took Forever (months) fleshing out, and then, well…the border 🙃 each individual rose was its own grid, and the others I had to break down first. I wanted there to be another layer of flowers as the background, all Wolfsbane. I just couldn’t figure out how to do that one well enough 😅

I took the picture of the finished sketch, and traced over it in art studio

I only had three layers to work with, which was a pain in the ass, even though I was barely doing more than dumping colors

Astarion’s dainty face and pain in the ass hair were too delicate for my pencil, so they were done entirely digitally…by precisely pasting game and hair references I could use as guide lines to trace over. I don’t love tracing, but I could not figure out how else to do this; his face is impossibly pretty

Gortash’s mug, in sharp and obvious contrast, was not as involved of a process. I think he’s ugly cute. The only specific detail I made sure to include is the mole I saw someone mention getting obsessed with. I turned it into a little heart 🖤

Anyway, a whole bunch of cleaning up, selecting and cutting, a diy glaze, and here we are, just in time for the chapter it goes with 💪😭✨

@nyda-the-tav thank you again again for helping me figure out how to get the formatting functional; I hope my process didn’t give you an aneurism

[alixennial]

Can't remember if you ever talked about this so: of all the places Indie has been to, which one is her favourite so far and why? And which one is her unfavourite?

Have a nic day <3

Hello! I'm sorry it's taken me an age to reply, I've been pretty burned out these last few weeks but I always appreciate an opportunity to ramble about Indie's favourite things so thank you! 💖

Favourite place! She considers Limsa her home, and we've been renovating her house in Mist recently. There'll be plenty of pics when I get my act together, but for now here's a pic of her favourite spot in the whole universe - her garden with her own private sunset.

Predictably, another favourite spot is on the beach next to her FC home in Shirogane. She loves her sunset views by the sea!

Other favourite places:

Ishgard - it's beautiful and home to her Fortemps family. And with the newly enacted reforms and formation of the Republic, she has hope for its future, especially when you have the likes of Charlie de Durendaire willing to roll up their sleeves and help with medical supplies and patient care in The Firmament. Growth 🤌

The One Garden in the Doman Enclave which she still uses to launder Allagan Silver contributes to the upkeep of. It's important for people to have a place of quiet reflection and memorial. (Also I love how we could watch the improvements being made over time and wish they did more of that in game)

Loth Ast Vath in the Dravanian Forelands because it's where her bug kids live.

Oops, it's really hard to narrow down favourite places to just a few, never mind ONE.

Her least favourite places are (1) Ul'dah - she hates the power that the syndicate has and that they protect profits over people. It's ugly.

And (2) Eulmore; fuck that ostentatious hole, frankly

I could also list the whole of The First as Indie had a rough time there, though her main issue was with the everlasting light rather than the place itself or the people. How can you take time to reflect when the day never draws to a close? How do you know when to rest? Lakeland is so much more beautiful with night and day and weather… (caught this misty sunrise yesterday, it’s so pretty)

She is warming to The First now as she’s currently working through the Crystalline Mean quests. The people will be ok, right?

Honorary mentions to Baelsar's Wall and Amaurot both being neither her favourite nor least-favourite but both evoking very powerful FEELS.

Thank you for the ask and I hope you’re having a great day too. I rambled, I’m sorry 💖 It’s impossible for me to choose 1 of anything. Blame the game XD

[verycharismaticdragon]

On Air Island - chapter 3 - part 8

navigation: [prev] - [next]

catching up: ch.1 [full video] - ch.2 p.1 - story so far [transcript]

other: [character guide] - [to avoid sp⊘ilers]

Uh-oh? Somehow we are at the end of chapter 3 already? When I didn't come up with anything to wrap it up with yet?! What do I do?......

Um, first, let's get to today's episode! And I think this one kinda warrants a warning for internet hate verging on cyberbullying... it's not as severe as in some other parts of the game, but it doesn't hurt to at least be mentally prepared. All of it is contained to the chat, btw; it doesn't come up in the dialogue. With this in mind, let's tune in!

(the transcript is available below the poll, under keep reading)

Aaaand that's it for chapter 3! The plot thickens?........ Anyway, chapter 4 tomorrow, hopefully returning to the (utc +0) 3pm/15:00 timeslot.

As for the poll, actually, let me roll you a question about the format. In the last couple episodes, I did alternative translations for quite a few messages in the chat, and I'm not super happy with how I currently add them to the video (as an additional line when the message in question pops up). The possible solutions I came up with are: (1) directly 'replacing' the relevant messages with the alt tl in the video, while keeping the og tl in the transcript for those interested; (2) not adding the alt tls to the video at all, and only adding them to the transcript. To make this decision, I have two questions:

Transcript legend:

In-game text

Character speaking: dialogue line

regular chat message Donation: donation message

available donation messages

{ Alternative translation }

|| 🏅 award (achievement) collected ||

———— ———— ————

Alice: Hanse! Hanse, say something!

[player] donated 80 Ordinary Spade: I am all ears

Hanse: I, I...

Hanse: I'm here to say hello to many of you. { I came here because I wanted to say hello to many people. }

BeMySon: Ah… iceice33: cries Amouth: My heart hurts…

Hanse: I haven't really had a chance to do any personal activities. { Actually, I didn't have many opportunities to do individual activities. }

island: ugly sobs GeeksWay: Tears falling… KingCry: That’s right… He got no popularity compared to his looks and skills… sigh

Hanse: I'm really happy to be able to come out here and tell my story and communicate with many people in real time.

CatProf: Hanse is too kind… NoHanse: Haha, the renewal contract period is almost up, and they come out acting all confident. { lmao you came here because contract renewal is near and you're walking the tightrope, yet you speak so flashily. } onlyyou: The agency openly promotes other idols but leaves Hanse out. 1pmhanse: I am upset with how they treat him, he is a leader but got small part and everything, it just doesn’t make sense { yeah im mad that as the leader, he works a ***ton but they only give him small parts;;;; } IKnowHim: It’s funny how they blame him for the controversy in personality {lol it went downhill because of the controversy about his personality, whose fault is that} GetLost: The lack of popularity due to his looks and skills, lol. It’s all the agency’s fault { hes not popular because hes got no looks and no skills lmao. the agency’s fault lmao. }

Ezra: So, yeah, it must have been pretty upsetting at the end. { Then, you must have been very upset when the rankings were announced. }

Crack: It seems like the 213 fans can’t enjoy without blaming someone else { lmao lhs fans can't be fans if they don't blame others lol } OnlyYou: Even though the controversy was clarified and proven false, they keep bringing up old stuff. BeMySon: What’s with **? DropOut: Honestly, there’s no need to criticize. His popularity is **, so nobody even knows him, yet they’re still trying to insult him? 

Jin: … … … … …

BestSolo: Please don't use offensive language here.  ek_98_ke: If you don't like it, just move on. Why bother going to his personal broadcast to insult him?  GodIdol: At this point, he/she is just a fan  CloseEye: I will report everything!  So_yool: Laws are laws, and anti-fans are still considered fans.  Boring: <This message has been deleted by Cleanbot>

Hanse: Well… ... I can't help but feel upset and upset because my first result was last. { Um…… I couldn't help but feel upset and disappointed that my first result was last place. } 

Hanse: I just wanted to show my fans something good and do well.

Buddy23: sobbing real hard  HsWAVE: Don't be too sad  hanseria: My heart aches… moemoe: What's important now is stand our self up! { Now is when it really matters! Let's increase our efforts! } forreal: #Hanse #Sorry #WeAreSorry YDD: Let's try our best!

Ezra: Don't worry, Hanse. If you don't make any mistakes, you'll be fine until the end.

DUMMY: ? hansame: Eh? winkhans: What an obvious thing...

Hanse: What?

Ezra: It's a pun. I thought your name was A ONE? The only one, or the last one... or the last one. { It's a play on words. I heard your stage name is A ONE? The one and only, or the last one standing… that’s what it feels like. }

bANA: Oooh ABChanse: It's meaningful. Flos: So, the conclusion is that you'll support Hanse, right? LookOnly: It's something... really... touching... It feels like you're trusting Hanse...

Jin: That's a very positive interpretation.

Ezra: Just what you need when you're overwhelmed. 

Alice: Hmph......! I'm impressed!

oc'mon: cries dl61300: tears falling PorkSoup: I just become a girl crying in the middle of the night urnothot: Cheer up Hanse! Imfather: We'll never give up too HeIsKing: Let's stand together!

Ezra: Ahaha……  

Ezra: So, cheer up, Hanse.

island: Cheer charmse: Up HalfWMoo: Cheer HeIsGod: He suddenly spoke informally? danchu1: Up PinThief: Ahh— 

Hanse: ... ... ... ... ...!

???: aaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!

ABChanse: ?! IloveHim: Wh-what? outnow: What voice?1!? { What did I just hear? } ANINEFAN: It was like a scream? hihihan: ??????

Alice: Hic...

Alice: Ba, ba, what was that......?! { Wh-wh-what was that just now…?! }

KimPearl: Really huge { It was so loud } DevilMan: It sounded like a man's voice  hottest: What?? What is actually going on? imnewon: Hanse are you okay?

Jin: If I'm not mistaken, that sounded like Naoto's voice......

Ezra: Mm~ It sounded like that to my ears too.

hihihan: ??? im_thief: Whut BeASolo: Naoto? yummy99: Come to think of it, it's unseen { Come to think of it, we haven’t seen him } ChohiGod: Where is he going? { Where did he go? }

Alice: But we have a range of behaviour, don't we? { But there's a set boundary for where we can be, right?! }

Ezra: Why did the voice come from outside the base camp?

KimBokC: Didn't he go somewhere? MyBaby: Naoto is breaking the rules and going somewhere? It's fishy OhYeah: ikr, and it's Naoto not even Mr. Fact Uaenaa: I think there must be something

Jin: … … … … …

Hanse: Ooh, shouldn't we check it out first?

LockHim: Yeah OnlyFact: Confirm it BeASolo: No! Hanse will be in danger too then! hanyise: If there are some disadvantages from going out then let's refrain yummy99: Donations are not important now, someone's life is more important [player]: Let's go check it out right now.

[jennyandvastraflint]

Xena Reactions S3Ep4. Aka WOAH THAT'S A LOT OF TRAUMA FOR MY POOR GABRIELLE Part 1 😭

Ffs why is Ares here AGAIN

OH who is THIS

Discord?? She kinda 👀 (gosh her outfit)

Ares you are so mfing UGLY I hate your stupid beard

Call him out, Discord 😍

GABRIELLEEEE

Hehe she's doing philosophy

Gosh Xena is silly silly

HER SLAPPING GABRIELLE TO STOP HER

BRITANNIA

CAESAR. FUCK.

Oh that did something to her. Poked that trauma, hu

Damn her listing stuff

"You know her?"

Why is there a dude with only one god again

"And to destroy Caesar" EPIC MUSIC. OHOHOHHH. She's gonna go REVENGE

"Xena doesn't hate Romans. Just Caesar."

Damn, Xena actually telling Gabrielle stuff? 😂

"The gods I know are trouble enough"

Sdbfhhdhdd HE MATERIALISED AROUND THE SWORD

Jesus Ares, fuck YOOOUUU

oh I hate this Ares whispering in her ear. I'd genuinely rather have Joxer here compared to Ares... Like if I had to choose. Preferably I want neither.

Is this Gabrielle's boyfriend of the week 😑

GABRIELLE BELIEVES IN LOVE TO XENA THO

I love Gabrielle teaching sb what Xena taught her

GABRIELLE GENTLY ASKING WHAT'S UP ❤️

I love them talking 😊

They really said Damn we got a ship now, let's put like four episodes on a boat!

How's the view from up there

Ohhh, is she sending morse code

"Yes, sir. They're headed north" ehdhdhd

A chariot again. Damn makes me nostalgic for Callisto

OH A HOT WOMAN

Damn Xena and that woman definitely fucked in the past. They have divorced sapphics energy

I dearly love that you actually see something in these night scenes. As opposed to new shows

GABRIELLE NOOOOOOO!!!!

I love women btw.

"Because your hatred for him won't allow you to be elsewhere" Oh she read her like a scroll of parchment

AHHHHH XENA LIKE "No that's impossible"

Oh shit she's about to murder someone bc her gf isn't here (*cough* Xena and Vastra are so alike-)

oh fuck yea...

And her ex kneeew

"Nooo." ough

Stop manhandling Gabrielle my babygirl

Pls she's so FEISTY😍😊

YUCK. CAESAR

Hi Karlchen.

OH. GABRIELLE IS TRYING TO SELL HERSELF SHORT SO SHE CAN'T BE USED TO BLACKMAIL XENA

Shit r they gonna threaten to crucify Gabrielle

Ohhh, is Xena gonna infiltrate

EW. STRAIGHT AGENDA (I knooow it's just a cover but still)

Eepy Gabrielle

Uh oh. I hate how smart Caesar is...

NOOOOOOOOO THEY PUT GABRIELLE UP

NO. NOPEEEE NOT THE BROKEN LEGS That's so fucked up

Xena's gonna save her

HA. She knew they were gonna bring them there.

Haha, Caesar's dumbstruck face

GABRIELLE CAN YOU MAKE BIGGER HEART EYES AT XENA

"Timing. We've got to work on timing."

HER CATCHING GABRIELLE 😍

She split his spear!!!

AHAHA FUCKING LOSER GOT HURT.

Rip his banner!!!

Oh, now his massive ego is scratched

NOT GABRIELLE APOLOGISING FOR BEING CAPTURED 😭😭😭

Awww, poor thems

Oh fuck they're taking the temple

Their shield formation and Xena just jumps them... 😂

Mmmmm... Not sure I like that. I'm calling the temple is a trap honestly... This went too smoothly

Oh Xena is enjoying this TOO much

And of course Ares is back.......

Ares stop shouting.

"Trust me, Xena!" "Based on what?" YES

Uhhhh why does this have the vibe of sacrificial virgin.....

Is their one god Chaos

Innocent blood? OH FUCK Gabrielle's blood innocence isn't it

NOOOOO, GABRIELLE

Mmmmmmh...

O_O GABRIELLE STABBED HER. SHE JUST KILLED FOR THE FIRST TIME

This is gonna let the god come out

WTFFFFFFF

I hate this guy

GABRIELLE MY POOR GIRL 😭😭😭

SHE'S SCREAMING, SOMEONE GO HUG HER. XENA!!!! YOUR GF IS IN DANGER

Oh she is enjoying that revenge on Xena bit too much

"That's where Gabrielle is" HUAGGHH

SHE HUGS HER. SHE HOLDS HER AWWWW

"No, Gabrielle, you couldn't"

"Accidentally!!!" "No, I stabbed her"

POOR GABRIELLE!!! SHE'S HIDING BEHIND XENA. PROTECTIVE XENA.

"What have you done to her, you BASTARD!?" She's big mad

Oh fuck. They wanna welcome that god and there's a battle about to begin outside

GABRIELLE!!!! FIRE. MY POOR BABY

Xena is so frightened for her gf

She's hovering over flames

Damn what a thin stone wall

HOLD ON GABRIELLE

Xena was scratched :(

BOOB KNIFE!!!

Xena is so sexy honestly

"Great at WHAT?" OH SHE'S THROWING HIM IN AND SAVING HER WIFEY

"I got you, I got you" Aaaaaaah

THEY'RE SO CLOSE. XENA IS SO PROTECTIVE OF HER

Kaboom

OUGH THEY'RE SO

"It hurts inside" OUGH sobbing. Gabrielle got me sobbing

Damn those are some CGI'd ruins

Also they really just abandoned the supposed A plot of the battle. That was SO smart tho. Like, from a story perspective. It was brilliantly executed.

[sonic-love-island-official]

Shadow (Bio/Character design ramble)

Behold, my sweet baby. Boy, do I have a lot to say about him. And some things I want to say about him can't really be incorporated fully into the fic, so what better place to infodump than here ?

Info under the cut x

Shadow is a 28 year old ex-G.U.N. agent. He was 'born' within the ARK, but moved to Westopolis later in life to rediscover his (then lost) identity. He joins Rouge on the Island with the intention of being her moral support.

Being a more reserved character, Shadow arrives full of scepticism, but with an indescribable, intricate set of standards. Shadow is the kind of man who knows exactly what he wants from a partner and a life going forward. He is stubborn to deviate from his plan of settling down and hoping to raise a family with someone who doesn't make him feel uncomfortable in his own skin. Normally on edge or awkward, Shadow typically struggles to interact with new people, but once he becomes comfortable with someone, he lets his true colours shine (both to his benefit and detriment). He can be gentle, deeply caring, passionate, even. However, he can also be sly, sharp-witted and harsh at times. Regardless of how anyone perceives him, Shadow's strong sense of identity drives him to pursue what he wants to have in his future. But having something entails having something to lose…

External design choices !! (visual appearance - incl. formation of base sim, references taken, makeup choices, fashion style… etc.)

You will never know how much time I spent trying to perfect this man 😭 Again, I immediately took inspiration from his Sonic Adventure 2 character design because he is both so striking in appearance but also has this soft cuteness (which initially did not make it into his sim version, until later modding the game). Along with Rouge, for Shadow I had a distinctive creative vision and although I can never make a sim exactly how I imagine them in my head, Shadow's design came close enough that I can't complain too much.

The real tough thing with Shadow came down to translation. Shadow has incredibly sharp/angular features that replicating it accurately in the sims would destroy any realistic appeal for his character in a more human form. So, my compromise was to do the best I could, while still keeping Shadow's features relatively human enough so he wouldn't look like he crawled out of a nightmare. Of course, I chose to keep the angle of his eyes and brows, but softened the degree to something still recognisable and so it didn't warp any of his other facial features. I kept the red colour of his eyes too. I could have went down a more realistic route, but I just thought it was so iconic of his character that without them, he'd just look weird. Same can be said for his makeup, actually. I gave him a simple black liner that runs from the top lash line, into the bottom and through his waterline, pairing that with a subtle red eyeshadow that mimics the red, triangular accent in the outer corners of his eyes (looking at sim Shadow without either of those is jarring, believe me). His nose I made a little pointed, characteristic of all the male hedgehogs. As for everything else ? It was purely up to my interpretation and working within the limitations of the game.

I couldn't get anything that was similar to Shadow's upturned quills, so I went for a hairstyle with a little bit of volume, just so there was enough resemblance. The hair I used was from the Supernatural pack (which is notorious for ugly CAS items, in my opinion) and surprisingly I don't hate it as much as when I first picked it. The red streaks are in his hair, but a little muted in comparison to the reference pictures, due to the fact it looked ridiculously bad when I tried the accurate, bright red streaks. I also wanted Shadow's sharp features to carry through into the base structure of his face, hence why he has a more squared jawline than what is seen on some of the other characters. He used to have more prominent cheekbones, but that that feature was softened out significantly after the modding (again, another 'for the best' situation). Overall, Shadow version 1 (pre-mod) wasn't all that attractive but once we got that visual overhaul for all the characters, he looks quite Pretty (I call him 'babygirl Shadow' due to his softer features). His skin tone evened out heaps better than before and looks quite lovely in-game (4th screenshot) but looks off when taking model photos in Stylist for the gallery </3

Over time, I've come to really appreciate Shadow's sim version !! He portrays everything I wanted him to be. Displaying a lot of his iconic features, while also representing my further, more abstract intentions for his character. Occasionally he makes expressions that do make him look a little older than the other characters and depending on who he's with, he can look the total opposite and look sweet, gentle and youthful. Other times he looks straight up creepy and all of these things blend so well for his character to an extent where it's both joyful and comical to witness. Nevertheless, I adore him, could you tell ;-;

*I forgot to mention here that although Shadow's sim does not have many tattoos (again, the selection we're given in TS3 is horrific and impossible to work with), he does in the AU. The red triangle designs on his forearms and calves are carried over (except they're not solid, rather more detailed with fluid lines and coils), his/the symbol of the Black Arms adorns his chest and creeps up to his neck and he has a small flower tattoo in memory of Maria <3

Shadow's fashion falls under three categories:

Stereotypical 'bad boy' outfits (leather jackets, boots, torn up jeans etc.)

Outfits typical of the show (plain t-shirts, baggy pants, chains, sneakers)

Outfits I personally think Shadow would pick and feel/seem comfortable wearing (tidy button-ups, dress pants/straight leg jeans)

They're pretty interchangeable throughout the series but the idea is that Shadow morphs to the expectation of being a Love Island contestant and wears things to fit that, but over the course of the series, gradually drops the act and becomes more himself. In any case, it gives a lot of variety and opportunity to try different clothing styles on Shadow and that in itself is fun to play with. Sometimes we even surprise ourselves seeing what items actually suit Shadow and which don't.

Internal design choices !! (personality, characteristics, psychology)

I am such a nit-pick when it comes to how Shadow is characterised in both official Sonic media and in fanworks. The two things that annoy me most is:

He's stuck in this constant loop of reliving his trauma, finding a sense of closure and learning/moving on from it. Repeatedly. He learns these beautiful, relatable life lessons and then. Forgets it. And has to do it all over again. For no real reason. (06 made that annoyance seem not as bad, seeing as Shadow had moved forward in his life but still kept to his ideals… but of course, they had to go and ruin that for him, didn't they 😒 Leading into my next point-)

He's reduced down to Edgy and Has No Friends

I am so so sick of seeing both of these things ?? So, I'm mostly just serving myself by helping Shadow along in this AU to be neither of these things because it doesn't at all fit the premise of the series. Most of the characters are a wild blend of their portrayals throughout Sonic media, so shitty Shadow pops up on occasion (for justifiable reasons, though) but primarily I've cherry-picked his better portrayals to represent him in the series, like the more introverted, soft-spoken Shadow from SA2 and Heroes, as well as the more level-headed, matured Shadow seen in 06. Of course, I don't write all of Shadow's moments in the series, as this fic is co-written alongside my sister, but my best efforts go towards representing Shadow in a way that makes him seem like Just A Guy.

Shadow enters the fic in a completely different stage in life. He's put his past behind him and is looking towards a brighter future. Naturally, he hasn't let his past go entirely and more so made a sense of peace with it. Here and there, there are a few blips where that is not the case and shows some of his old wounds haven't fully healed, but that's to add the ✨realism✨. The idea for Shadow is that he was once in a far worse state than when he entered the Island, but he isn't perfect. He has his own arc to go through, but for once it's fairly disjointed from his canon-typical baggage.

Simply enough, I want to allow Shadow the opportunity to develop connections — to make new friends (Rouge is his one pre-established friend), to express love. He has so much potential to be soft and kind and selfless and loving, without being locked behind bars of Edge and past horrors. As an introvert, he expresses things in his own subtle way that isn't easily understood by everyone, but he's constantly making the effort to show he cares for the people important to him.

Fun facts / trivia :

Shadow is older than Sonic by three years in this AU purely due to the fact that Shadow's character is more lore-heavy than Sonic's. Additionally, they're both at different stages in life, shown by their behaviour and actions and that, I feel, should also be realistically represented in the ages given to them. There is so much discourse surrounding Shadow's 'age' (now retconned) and it's exhaustingg.

Shadow's time in the Villa reveals some interesting themes around social relationships, such as making/maintaining friendships as an adult (a topic I find incredibly real and unique to this project)

I couldn't fit this anywhere else, and it might be a little self-serving but I allude to the fact that Shadow is on the aro/ace spectrum, which is a wild contradiction from the expectations of the show. We've also kept the genders of his previous partners vague-ish. Firstly due to the Twitter Takeovers, where Shadow has never expressed a gender preference (I think that's correct ?) and that's a detail I wanted to remain loyal to. Secondly, I didn't want to tie him down to any specific gender preference ?? I thought it banging just to leave it as is, because it does give some moments within the series an extra impact. Nevertheless, Shadow specifically doesn't experience sexual attraction and rarely/infrequently experiences romantic attraction. Alas, there seems to be this mutual consensus that Shadow's a bit of a horn monster and… funnily enough, I agree with that too- So AU Shadow's sexuality is incredibly layered and somehow it all still makes logical sense :)

There is a lot of Shadow's lore that transferred to the AU in a creative/slightly more realistic way, but I can't talk about it here, else this post will be longer than what it already is

[mothwithapencil]

These stupid pics to get your attention

Rambling about Vega, his various mental issues and gay problems, featuring vegaryuken. Copied from a discord dm, edited in my notes app, pasted here to tumblr dot com for all the vegaheads and like, 2 other enjoyers of the ship to see. And hopefully tumblr won't ruin the formatting and scramble the entire post again. Enjoy

I think Vega has trouble correctly identifying his emotions. Like they get jumbled together and it's hard for him to recognize just what it is when he's feeling a bunch of things at once. And because he's Vega it all just gets translated into I Need To Fucking Kill You

Because of their 87 gay tension encounters Vega very obviously desires Ken biblically. But he also wants attention from him and when he doesn't get it he's Upset. And he gets jealous and angry at everyone Ken does give attention to (Eliza, Chun-Li, probably Ryu but we'll get to that later). So he tries to fight Ken to "win their affections" even though it's really just Ken that he wants. Intricate rituals just so another man will touch him etc etc. So there's too many emotions at play and it all gets blended into one mess. He wants Ken to give him attention and he's jealous of people close to him and hates them because he's not them and he hates Ken for not reciprocating and he's angry at himself for having feelings and caring about someone as stupid and ugly and beautiful as Ken Masters. Well. What can a Vega do with these overwhelming feelings but claw everyone to death about it. After all he does love killing and maiming and licking blood from his claw as a way to bring peace to his mind (← canon info)

Tldr he's angry and touch starved and wants to be loved and is a little bit of a whore. And he never was allowed to properly feel and regulate his emotions so he can't tell the difference.

He probably goes after Ryu too once he realizes ken is in love with him. But Ryu, big sweetheart that he is, is at one with his heart and emotions and is able to be like "Hey. Lets talk about this. What's troubling you so much. Lets sit down and breathe :)" and eventually gets him to be very very pathetic and spill everything. Its okay Vega it's not your fault

[stuffedsand]

Wahey milgram oc time my silly guya

013 - Shiratori Masaki

My boy

- 20

- prisoner number 013 (I slapped them into base milgram cuz I don't wanna make a whole new cast)

- to quote my own character notes: cringefail specimen of a man.

-- fun name thing! His first name means "true, hope" hehe

UNDERCOVER

"Under, oh so aware of all that you say

This makes me sick, so please, go away"

Votes (fabricated lmao)

T1 - INNOCENT

T2 - GUILTY

Songs of Prisoners

+T1 – what…what are you talking about?

+T2 – no…you-you’re lying!

Voice trailer (t1)

Oh uh… Shiratori Masaki, that's my name. 20, uni student. Uhh what else … oh, sorry if I forget anything, i, ah, my memory has never been any good

If I'm being honest…I don't know what the hell you're talking about! No one around me has died recently. At least…not as far as I can recall…

*Takai? Takai! Wake up! This isn't funny..!*

Voice trailer (t2)

Hi, Es-kun, how have you been? Ah, Shiratori Masaki. You didn't forget our deal, right?

*Shut up! I don't want to listen to you and your stupid problems anymore!*

Personality

-- a timid yet stubborn man. It is very difficult to change his opinions on things. Polite, but very quick to turn defensive if blame is turned on him.

He can be a prick at times.

Extra notes

-- a man with really bad memory loss. During T1 interro, he makes a deal that he'll take MILGRAM seriously if Es can tell him who his victim is. And he has to believe it

-- not mentioned but his memory loss is a trauma response. Dead bodies are traumatic I don't think that's a contraversial take

-- the indirect murderer of the pair

Full body:

Please note -- his ugly fucking shoes were not an accident he has a horrible fashion sense

014 - Akabane Kazuko

The She

-23

-prisoner number 014

-based off one of my multifandom ocs (and my favourite of the 2)

--fun name thing! Her name means "gentle/kind/harmonious child". 子 is also(apparantly) male specific. I have fun reasons for that

UNDERCOVER

(pardon the artstyle change this was done on my tablet instead of my computer and was. Rushed💀)

Under, I don't care if I'm in the right or wrong

Songs of prisoners

Full of malice, we will waltz to our doom

Votes (edit)

T1 - guilty

T2 - (?)

+t1 – let's get on with it, shall we?

+T2 – ...you're not very good at this.

T1 – voice trailer

Hello. I am Akabane Kazuko. 24. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Warden.

I am interested in how all this will play out. But nothing will really change the impact of our actions. Remember that, Warden

* My final act… will take your breath away! *

T2 – voice trailer

Good day, Warden. Kazuko, you remember, yes? Seems your choices have caused quite the ruckus.

* You…You know what you've done! I'll make you pay for it!*

Personality

-- a calm and gentle woman. A showman at heart, she is elegant and loves performing magic tricks.

-- some are unsettled by her, but she does her best to be kind and friendly to those she speaks to

Extra notes:

-- Magician coded :)

-- because I can fabricate fan theories, es assumed they killed 2 people in trial one. They have only killed one.

-- the direct murderer of the pair

Full body: (outdated a lil, I changed her vibe. Design still stands)

Please note -- bowling alley socks

Interro qns (please give me some interro questions tho I'm very bad at thinking any up)

Also note: interros are formatted as

--

Question

Kazuko

Masaki

--

Cuz I wrote this when I labelled Kazuko as 001 and Masaki as 002. I'm changing it to reflect their new numbers but editing on Tumblr mobile sucks so I'm not changing the order </3

Q)Tell us your family structure

014 — mother, self, brother,

...it's just me now

013 — parents, me and my twin, Shiratori Takai.

Q)Is there people you hate?

014 — hypocrites.

Don't become one, warden

013 — people who always depend on you

Q)Which prisoner is the most similar to you?

014 – yuzuriha kotoko.

013 – hm...

Probably kayano. He looks like he doesn't know why he's here, too

Q)What was your murder weapon?

014 — what a bold question

It was a bottle.

013 — haha, I'll humour you for this one

Hmmmm...... My words, maybe? I've been told i have quite a sharp tongue

Q)What was your family like?

014 — kind, resilient. They were wonderful. I

loved them

013 — they're ok.

Which prisoner do you get along with the least?

014 — mr mukuhara. Nothing against him, he just reminds me of someone.

013 — …Kusunoki. No reason, but I do wish she'd stop trying to talk to me. It's annoying.

Q)How has your experience been within MILGRAM ?

014 — quite good, considering we're all in here for murder.

013 — uh… good? I still don't believe you saying we're all murderers.

Q)Do you have regrets?

014 — yes. I should have done something sooner

013 — no? I did argue with my brother recently, but it was nothing, really. I'll apologize and everything will be fine

Q)Is there a verdict you hope for?

014) all I hope for is your honest judgement. I want to see how you choose to judge

013) Well, since I don't think I've done anything… I'd hope to be forgiven, of course.

Who was your victim to you?

014) nothing.

013) eh? Warden, I don't know. We made a deal remember? You tell me!

What is your father like?

014) i dont consider him my father.

013) uh…he’s my dad. What more do you want me to say, really...

What do you think of the prisoner paired with you?

014) Shiratori? Not much opinion. I do wonder what he's done to be here, though.

013) Ms Kazuko..? Shes intimidating, if I'm being honest. Not scary, just...intimidating

[lemotmo]

Hey lovely, I saw your anon question for me. The answer is boring, lol, but here it is.

I have not worked in television before. The company I work for has a section that deals with print media and my course load in school involved a lot of PR in the media classes so I'm familiar with the structure and format. That's all. So while that means I can spot potential patterns in the promotional stuff and say 'oh it looks like they're doing this or that' it doesn't mean the show will follow that pattern completely. They called us all out on Instagram so I would actually look for them to mix things up for a bit now because I would imagine some theories they read at least included some partially correct guesses.

As for your blog, things are getting really ugly so I think it's going to be rough for the foreseeable. My box is a dumpster fire. Wishing you peace and calm.

Ali 💗

Hey Ali! 💓

No no, nothing you say will ever be boring. I'm sure of it! LOL!

Thank you for answering the anon question.

Oh I can only imagine your poor inbox right now. It must be suffering. Don't let it get to you and if it does get to be too much? Take a break, okay?

Mine is doing okay at the moment. I have some stragglers trying to hate, but I delete and block right away. I'm hoping it will stay this way. *crosses fingers*

Have a great day! 😁

[eerna]

so far, how would you rank all of the tfota universe books, if this isn’t too difficult to ask? :o

Not me having premonitions about this ask yesterday.... so you're just in time bc I ranked them in my mind

5) The Stolen Heir - Not that I think it's bad, but it's def a two-parter and I have no frame of reference for where the story is going and can't really say if I am gonna like it once it's concluded. BUT it had inconsistencies and a predictable twist whose execution didn't make up for the predictability so I'm pretty sure this would be a number 5 book either way.

4) The Cruel Prince - Again, not because I dislike it. In fact I think that this is the one I've reread most? It's just that I don't have as many intense emotions about it as the rest of the books. I still go feral over certain things (the DUELS the SWORD GIFTING the JUDE SEES CARDAN BEING MEAN TO TARYN SO SHE PICKS HIM UP AND SLAMS HIM INTO A TREE)

3) The Queen of Nothing - I know this book is bullied usually but I just. I just love it so much. I'm a fluffy bitch. I love that the first half is all the ugly feelings coming out and then the second half is so romantic and fairy-tale-like and. AAaaaaAAA I loved it as the conclusion. These books were never plot heavy and I def didn't need an epic conclusion so I don't mind that it's short. The thing that prevents me from ranking it higher is the lack of a Taryn character arc, she just flipped a switch and became normal because she got Eva'd and tbh I needed a journey for that kind of a 180 and love her too much to ignore it.

2) The Wicked King - I just think it's neat to watch Jude fall from the heights she climbed to in book 1 because of her inability to trust others. And I understand her, she has every reason to mistrust everyone, so it's not annoying to watch her flail around trying to be a one woman army. Also it's the only book I've ever read where my reaction to the ending was both "I WANT THIS TO BE A FAKEOUT" and "I DON'T WANT THIS TO BE A FAKEOUT" so congratulations on that

1)How the King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories - Because I feel like this is the rawest TFOTA experience possible. It's a storybook with illustrations. A STORYBOOK WITH ILLUSTRATIONS!! The perfect format for this series imo!!! And I really love the story, I love that it's about Cardan's relationship with narrative and self image and only a little bit about Jude. I love that it focused on stuff we had no idea about and those we only heard about in passing instead of just "here's what Cardan was thinking during THIS scene". And I love Cardan and his POV was so chill and filled with denial compared to Jude's and hhhhh lovely