#he was willing to give up the safety of the world and the future of the fire nation to save her from Azula's lightning

[socksorstockingz]

I feel like a good number of the people who complain the loudest about Wyll's character are also the people who are less willing to engage with him on a deeper analytical level.

If you just look a little harder at his character, he has incredible if subtle depth, not in spite of but because of his maintained morality and heroism. From his introduction, Wyll comes off as the classic dashing rogue, wanting only to rid the world of evil and save those in need. However, once you begin to learn his story, you realize that this heroism, while genuine, has always been defined by others. Be it by his father -- a hero of legends and a grand duke of Baldur's Gate -- and his teachings, or by Mizora's patronage granting him power he decided to wield for good (or at least as much good as he could do while still being yanked around by Mizoram), Wyll's life has always been defined by people who had authority over him. Wyll believes that, to live up to his father's legacy, he must also be a hero of the people, and justifies taking Mizora's deal to himself by explaining he thought he could only save people through her (though to be fair Mizora definitely took advantage of his panic in the moment when he believed the archdevil Tiamat was being summoned).

However, throughout the story of Baldur's Gate (given you follow the "good" route for his story) though his heroism never wavers, it becomes less defined by others' influence. After sparing Karlach and becoming part-devil, Wyll initially despairs that his new form is one of evil, totally ignoring the tieflings around him who also share similar traits. But, as he grows accustomed to his new form and bonds with Karlach, he realizes he can still be the hero he's always wished to be, and that saving Karlach was another decision he would not regret. His development is especially prominent in Act 3, in which a major part of the plot revolves around Gortash's hold over his father, and whether or not Wyll can save him. I know a lot of people dislike the fact that there isn't an option for Wyll to make his decision on whether or not to break his contract or ensure his father's safety, and I agree it would be nice to have that option, but, as I see it, Wyll is again plunged into an impossible situation, just like the one that caused Wyll to take Mizora's contract in the first place, and, at this point, he is still stuck between his past and his potential future. Because, because of Duke Ravengard disowning him after seeing Wyll had become a warlock, Wyll never got closure on his relationship with his father -- the man he loved and admired so dearly, both as a father and as a symbol of hope and justice in Baldur's Gate. The man Wyll looked up to as the person he believed he must be.

But could Wyll ever be the man he wished to be if he stayed on Mizora's leash?

If you choose to encourage him to break his contract, Wyll seems to spring back from his decision somewhat quickly, but in a "no time to process this must keep going or else I'll collapse" type of way. However, from this point, whether or not you're able to save Duke Ravengard from the Iron Throne, Wyll is left with something he hasn't had for so long: closure. Even if his father resents him, or even if his father is dead, at least Wyll can let go of that fleeting regret from all those years ago. And, once you finish the quest revolving around the undead guardian of the city Ansur, Wyll embraces a new mantle: the Blade of Avernus. A title merging both his past heroism and his future potential.

At the end of the game, if Karlach and Wyll are in your party, Karlach's heart will be on the verge of giving out, and, if you tell Karlach to return to Avernus so she won't die, Wyll promises he'll be by her side, fighting against the demons that oppressed them. And, in the epilogue, Wyll proudly proclaims that he makes a pretty good Ranger, showing how he's grown and adapted after losing the powers afforded to him by Mizora.

tl;dr: Wyll's arc is basically him going from a "hero by legacy" to a "hero by choice," and I think it's wonderful that he's able to maintain his morality while learning to move on from his past.

[prisonhannibal]

!! DONT SKIP !! donations urgently needed They are only at €5,561 out of €50,000 goal

I was contacted by Nader to draw pictures for and help spread his brother Abdulsalam Al-Anqar’s fundraiser to save their family. Nader is a 17 year old boy who lives in Gaza with his family: parents Ahmed (54) and mother Iman (49), brothers Abdulsalam (26), Mohammed (14), and Omar (21) and Abdulsalam’s wife and their one year old daughter Iman. Imagine it was your sibling, your friend, your son, who should be in school or with his friends, who instead has to hide from bombs and ask for help online to save his family. His family have suffered through one year of genocide. All of you are their hope to get to safety.

This fundraiser is vetted by @gazavetters, number four on the spreadsheet here

Abdulsalams daughter Iman is only one year old and has lived most her life in a war zone. She is suffering from malnutrition. It’s every fathers worst nightmare to see their child starve and not be able to feed her. Please help him feed his daughter and get her to safety. No child should grow up hearing the sound of bombs. Every child has the right to food and safety. You can help give Iman the childhood she should have, where she can sleep in a safe bed at night with a full stomach.

Their father Ahmed has cancer and needs surgery and medication. It is not possible to get the treatment he needs in Gaza. every day his illness is left untreated, the cancer will continue to spread through his body, so he very urgently needs money for treatment and travel. If you help them get to their goal, you are saving their fathers life. Don’t let this family who have already lost so much lose their father, husband, and grandfather

Nader has showed me pictures of this explosion close to them, thankfully they were able to get away. Every day they stay in Gaza their lives are at risk from israeli bombs. Every day and hour counts. I know there are compassionate and kind people who are willing to help. every euro helps, YOUR donation will bring them one moment closer to safety. With love and hope I’m asking you to give what you can, I believe in the kind people of the world and I beg you to not let them die. If you can’t donate, please share so it may reach people who can.

Never forget that palestinians are not numbers on a list of deaths. Please think of each of them, think of their names and faces and know that you can help them. I think of them every day. I think of the hopes and dreams they should achieve, I think of their education, their future, and the love they show when they work hard every day to get help. You may feel powerless to stop this genocide, but you have the power to save Abdulsalam and his family. I dream that the day will come soon where they may use their days to rest and recover from what they’ve been through, where they can share a meal and laugh and the children will play, instead of having to use their time to beg the world to listen and help them. We can make this possible.

50 000 euros is a lot of money for one person to give, but for all of us together, it can be done. Please don’t look away.

(drawing above by @neechees)

Thank you for reading their story. Please don’t keep scrolling without sharing

here is the link again to their fundraiser

tagging for reach:

@90-ghost @heritageposts @gazavetters @neechees @butchniqabi @fluoresensitive @khanger @autisticmudkip @beserkerjewel @furiousfinnstan @xinakwans @batekush @appsa @nerdyqueerr @butchsunsetshimmer @biconicfinn @stopmotionguy @willgrahamscock @strangeauthor @bryoria @shesnake @legallybrunettedotcom @lautakwah @sovietunion @evillesbianvillain @antibioware @akajustmerry @dizzymoods @ree-duh @neptunerings @explosionshark @dlxxv-vetted-donations @vague-humanoid @buttercuparry @sayruq @malcriada @sar-soor @northgazaupdates2 @feluka @dirhwangdaseul @jdon @ibtisams @sawasawako @memingursa @schoolhater @toesuckingoctober @waskuyecaozu

[gloomwitchwrites]

Dog with No Teeth // Chapter Four

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings: post-apocalyptic au, swearing, dubcon elements, touching, kissing, dirty talk, sexual content, jealousy, possessive behavior, manipulation, mild degradation, oral sex (female receiving)

Word Count: 4.5k

You make yourself an offering. You and Ghost give into your base urges. Soap comes knocking.

Chapter Three // Chapter Five

ao3 // main masterlist // dog with no teeth masterlist

Warmth at your back. Solidness against your thigh. A comforting halo of safety.

Home.

Where there is a hammock on the porch. Where the garden calls your name. Where you sit amongst your archive, losing yourself in the endless books.

Inhaling through your nostrils, you exhale through your mouth, yawning slightly as you stretch your leg muscles, the tension melting away, feeding into the moment of peace.

You’re floating. Content.

There are no marauders. No gunshots. No skull-faced lieutenant dressed in black.

A dream is all it is—a distant nightmare that has passed into memory. It will no longer plague you like an itch. Freedom is in your hands. Vast. Open. A field of endless flowers.

Beside you, something moves, and all that peace is yanked from behind your eyelids.

One eye opens, searching. As you turn your head, a sliver of sunlight cuts through your vision. With an annoyed groan, you retreat from the light. You sniff, and the place smells wrong. It doesn’t smell of home.

“You’re moving too much,” grumbles a male voice.

British. Gruff. Familiar.

We’re taking her with us.

You don’t belong to me.

Your eyes snap open. The wall is an off-white with a hint of yellow, not the florals you’re used to. Above you, the ceiling is the same. This is not your bedroom. This is not your space.

Not a dream, then. Which means—

Ben.

The blood and bullets return, creeping in until it consumes, forcing you back to a moment you long to forget. Unable to contain the pain, you release a little whimper, sounding like a kicked dog.

A large hand gently grasps your upper arm. It’s warm—a little rough. “What’s wrong, love?”

Lieutenant Riley. Ghost. Captor.

A wave rises—laced with grief. Last night, Ghost insisted he could not take you home. That he would not take you back. Home has been ripped from you. By him.

The hand upon your upper arm squeezes in reassurance, urging you to turn toward him. Part of you resists. Refuses. But the pull of comfort is a siren’s song, and there is a man here willing to give it.

You roll onto your back, only for Ghost to push up onto his elbow, leaning over you. The middle of his brow is creased with concern, his whiskey-brown gaze roaming over your face before checking the parts of you above the sheets.

“Are you hurt?”

The tenderness in which Ghost asks surprises you. His grip shifts, cradling your cheek, thumb gently brushing back-and-forth across your skin.

Ghost’s head tilts, gaze roaming over you with an assessing look. “I was rough with you.”

You swallow, saliva sticking in your throat. “You were,” you agree.

His fingers curl slightly, catching on the small hairs on the back of your neck. It’s just a light tug—a redirection, but you surrender to him, allowing Ghost to draw you in.

“Are you in pain?” Ghost’s thumb brushes over your bottom lip.

You shake your head. “Not the physical kind.”

The corners of Ghost’s mouth slightly turn downward. “I can’t take you home.”

“I know,” you reply, voice cracking. Your eyes burn, tears threatening to claw themselves up to the surface. “You said that.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and it sounds like he means it.

The future is uncertain, laced with the unknown probability that you will likely never return to the life you knew. But this new world shaped you—made you understand that you don’t always have a choice.

Whatever happens—whatever life you’re about to be handed—you will survive.

You always do.

“I want to believe you. But I don’t trust you.”

Ghost leans in further, the tip of his nose nearly brushing yours. “You shouldn’t.”

Piercing. Sharp. A hollow point on impact. The pain runs deep through your veins, seizing your blood.

This man is no savior—no sanctuary. But he is all you have now.

What will you do after processing, when you’re reintegrated into society? Will they dump you onto the street? Force you to fend for yourself?

Your answer is cradling your cheek, asking if you’re all right.

Survival. Always survival.

“What do you need?” asks Ghost, a husky bite in his voice.

The pain will swallow you up if you allow it, shredding your resolve until you waste away from despair. Dust. Smaller than dust. A scattering of atoms. A small drop in a large ocean. Yet a life raft floats in front of you, asking you what you need, inviting you to grab hold.

Placing your hand flat against Ghost’s chest, you splay your fingers wide, gently caressing. Ghost groans low in his throat—the sound nearly a growl.

“I want to forget for a bit,” you whisper. “To not be afraid.”

Ghost shifts closer, his grip tightening to a possessive hold. “Do I frighten you?”

“Yes,” you gasp as Ghost’s lips linger just shy of your own, teasing the promise of a kiss.

“Do you know what you’re asking for? With me?”

No.

“I don’t care,” you reply, sounding more desperate than you mean to be.

This is a power play, a way to draw him in, to want you enough that you’ll be protected once you make it to the safe zone. Nothing about Lieutenant Riley’s behavior says that he’ll force himself on you, but his actions haven’t entirely been pure. He might be a bad man, but he isn’t the worst of them.

“Won’t lie,” he growls. “You’re a bloody tempting thing.” Ghost’s thumb drops to your throat, pressing lightly against the pulse point.

You press yourself into him, showing interest. A low groan escapes him, his pupils dilating with arousal. Showing a bit of vulnerability with Ghost might result in nothing. Give him your body for the morning, allow him to rut and fuck to his contentment, only to toss you aside once you arrive at the safe zone. It’s a real possibility. A true fear.

Yet there is hesitation speaking in your ear—whispering.

He comforted you during the executions.

He placed Ben somewhere Zac and the others will find him.

No one tried to take advantage of you with him around.

Small acts of kindness. Moments of gentleness. Each is a confusing justification for how you’re feeling. Ghost is not to be trusted, but you might be able to rely on him in this unknown world.

But you also remember his boot on your back, the way he shoved you against the armored truck, how he joined you in the shower uninvited. They negate the good, and you’re left with a neutral reservation of how to approach this man to your advantage.

So you fall into what you know.

“Then take the offer,” you sigh, offering your mouth.

Ghost lingers in the moment, his gaze dropping from your eyes to your lips. Thumb sliding up your neck, Ghost presses it to your bottom lip, dragging it down to admire your teeth. Releasing, it pops back into place.

“And what are you offering, hm?” he muses, snuggling closer to you.

The boxer briefs he wears hide nothing, outlining every inch of what he has to offer. There is no mistaking his interest.

“Me,” you answer, all breathy and soft. “You can have me.”

“And I make you forget for a bit?”

You nod, and Ghost shakes his head. “Do you really want this?”

The answer is unclear like swamp water. Ghost isn’t shoving you down into the bed. He’s not forcing your legs open to slot himself between. But he isn’t pushing away or denying you. Either would be preferable. At least you’d know where you stand.

This back and forth is worse.

“Don’t you want to kiss me?” you entice, tilting your chin.

“Yes,” he replies automatically. “Badly.”

Badly is a growl, bordering on desperation.

Oh, fuck.

Ghost’s grip on the back of your neck tightens—almost hurts. You attempt to move and find that you cannot. “You called me a selfish bastard last night. Now you want to have it off with me?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” you counter.

Ghost smirks. “No.”

“You’re familiar with a woman hate-fucking you?”

His smirk becomes a knowing grin. “A good hate-fuck is my specialty, love.”

You roll your eyes, the palm against his chest no longer a caress but a barrier. Pushing at him, you attempt to scoot closer to the wall—to create some distance.

“No,” he says, the singular word full of authority. Ghost surges forward, rolling you beneath him, trapping you against the bed.

“Get off me,” you snarl.

“Thought you wanted to forget?” he chides. Ghost’s knee slots between your legs, forcing them open a bit.

The only thing between your bodies is the shirt you wear. Nothing else. Can Ghost sense your arousal even though you deny it yourself?

“I do,” you answer. Ghost arches a single eyebrow. “I did,” you correct.

“I don’t believe you,” he teases, brushing the tip of his nose against yours, lips dangerously close to falling upon you.

Like a flint strike, a spark snaps into existence. Ghost’s hand delves downward, fingers featherlight as they skim over your bare thigh, only to curl under your knee. He urges your left leg out and then up against his waist. Through his boxer briefs, Ghost’s erection settles where your pelvis and hip meet.

“What would I find if I touched you?” asks Ghost, his hand sliding higher. “Would you be wet for me?”

“No,” you lie.

Ghost clucks his tongue like he knows the truth. His hand moves higher. Higher. Higher. With a roughness that makes you moan, Ghost squeezes your upper thigh, fingers digging into your skin.

“Should we find out, love?”

That large hand of his shifts to your inner thigh, creeping closer to your exposed sex. There is no underwear to create a barrier, and the shirt you wear is bunched around your stomach. As his thumb brushes over your labia, your hips involuntarily rock into his touch. Ghost’s response is an answering groan, his eyelids fluttering slightly as he nuzzles the side of your face.

“Are you wet for me?” he asks, voice a whiskey-bite of a caress.

Breath heavy, chest heaving, you open your leg wider, giving Ghost complete access. It’s just a touch, brief and tentative.

“You are wet for me,” he sighs, thumb pressing to the entrance of your pussy.

You can no longer deny—no longer pretend that his closeness isn’t affecting you. You hate this man. You want to push him away, to claw out his fucking eyes, to scream and curse him with all your energy. But he smells nice, his touch gentle, and the intimacy in which he holds himself over you speaks to a desire within him that seems to go beyond the bonds of simple arousal.

It makes no sense. It’s absurd. Infuriating. Confusing.

You are breaking. Fracturing. Is this even survival anymore? Are you simply giving in?

Just a small twist of his wrist and Ghost’s thumb ascends to gently circle your clit. You gasp with pleasure, head falling back to expose your neck. Ghost dives in, running his tongue along your throat.

Fuck. Oh, fuck.

“A hate-fuck doesn’t have to be rough,” croons Ghost. “Can take you just like this.” His thumb plays with you, circling and circling until the soft tingle of pleasure becomes a building, pulsing thing that vibrates under your skin. “Make you beg for me,” he breathes.

With his other hand, Ghost grasps your throat, forcing you to look at him. He holds you close, lips just shy of touching.

“I’ll fuck you slow. And you can tell me how much you fucking hate my guts as I rearrange yours.” Ghost presses his thumb directly against your clit, making you shiver. “What do you say, love?”

“I think you talk too much,” you murmur, purposefully goading Ghost to action.

“Then let’s put our mouths to better use.”

He moves first, closing the distance, pressing his lips to yours. Acceptance is all you can do—all you can offer. You’ve started this game, insisted on this, and now there is nothing but to follow through. You need Ghost to want you, to keep wanting you.

Grasping the back of his neck, you meet him with equal need. While you need him on your side, you also need to let go, to release some of this tension and pretend that your life hasn’t been upended.

His hand between your legs gently strokes, slowly building you towards your release. You gasp against Ghost’s mouth, and he chuckles, going in for one more kiss before descending, peppering your neck with affection.

Your hand roams over his muscled back. There is no consistent smoothness to his skin. Scars are present. Some clean and thin and solid. Others jagged. Rigged. And you briefly wonder where he obtained them all.

Ghost’s tongue tastes the hollow of your throat. “This needs to fucking go,” he growls, tugging at your shirt.

He ceases playing with you, both of his hands grasping your shirt, pushing it up your body. A sudden wave of apprehension rises. The shirt is a barrier, an illusion of safety. And there it goes, right over your head, tossed to the floor.

Ghost’s grasps the sides of your ribcage, planting a kiss between your breasts. “Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, turning his head to tease the underside of your left breast with his tongue.

“Lieutenant,” you mewl when he sucks a nipple into his mouth.

You fist his hair, tugging Ghost up your body. He makes a pleased sound as he rises to meet you, seizing your mouth with a kiss that steals your breath. His strength is a powerful thing, yet the way he kisses you—touches you is almost reserved in its intensity. There is no intent to harm, to make you fear him.

Ghost breaks the kiss, easing his weight onto one arm. He reaches between your bodies for his boxer briefs, shoving them down and over his thighs, kicking them away. There is nothing between your bodies, not even the sheets.

Sitting up, Ghost settles between your legs on his knees. Every inch of Lieutenant Riley is on full display. Solid, thick muscles. Criss-crossing scars. Tattoos on his fingers and an entire sleeve down his left arm. Whiskey-brown eyes with pale eyelashes that pierce right through you.

This is a wraith. A Sentinel of Hell. Dangerous. Fierce.

And you’re beneath him, panting with the anticipation of bringing your bodies together.

“Tell me you hate me,” he commands, voice gruff and laced with lust.

“I hate you,” you murmur as Ghost reaches out and caresses your inner thigh.

His hand roams upward, smoothing over your stomach. “Again.”

“I fucking hate you,” you say a bit louder.

Ghost fists his cock and pinches one of your nipples between thumb and index finger. “Again,” he growls. “With more venom.”

“I hate you,” you moan. “You’re a selfish fucking bastard. And I hate you.”

Another pass of his hand, fingers tracing lines down your body, sending little sparks of pleasure through you. It’s blissful agony, and though you do hate Lieutenant Riley and the situation he’s put you in, his touch is welcome.

Your legs fall wider.

“Bloody hell,” breathes Ghost as he slides his hand up and down his cock.

In other situations, like this, when you were simply trying to feed yourself or put a roof over your head, the men would already be on top of you, grunting like feral animals for a few thrusts before finishing. There was never any pleasure in it. Never any desire. They would quickly fall asleep, leaving you hollow like an abandoned burrow.

Predators. Every. One. They all leered—sneered at you like you were filth, as if the only place you belonged was beneath them.

Lieutenant Riley doesn’t gaze at you like that. There is appreciation in the way he takes you in. A longing. A…yearning that makes you question all his motives for taking you in the first place. Under his attention, you feel wanted. Desired.

Another stroke, and a bead of precum blooms. You lock onto it, gaze focusing in as more emerges from his slit. As if sensing your thoughts, Ghost wipes it up with his thumb. Reaching out, he presses his thumb flat against your skin between your breast, drawing a line of cum downward.

“Open your mouth,” he commands.

You comply, and that thumb slides past your lips and over your tongue. A slightly salty flavor flowers. Now you know his taste.

Ghost drags his thumb over your tongue, then your bottom lip, and to your chin. “Grab your thighs. Draw your legs up. Keep yourself open for me.”

Refusing his authority and pushing back is natural at this point, but in this, you submit. And you’re glad to.

Ghost lowers himself, lips finding yours. It’s not a tease of a kiss, but an embrace, surrounding you with lustful need. You’re going to enjoy this. Deep within you, you understand this, and you want to explore this primal intensity.

Another kiss. Lower. Down your neck. Over your breasts. Across your stomach. Descending. Further. Further still.

His tongue teases, and a little cry escapes you.

“LT!” You nearly come off the bed as someone pounds on the door. “You awake, Ghost?”

“Shit,” mutters Ghost, his warm breath brushing against your inner thigh.

Releasing your thighs, you sit up slightly, staring at the door. There’s a stranger here, wanting entrance. The lusty haze over your eyes evaporates, your head clearing like a rainstorm surrendering to the sun. You went too far. Ghost has his head between your thighs and you were holding your legs open for him, enjoying every second of his tongue.

“Fuck,” you whisper as a spike of panic rises.

You start to draw inward. Even your legs are retreating, pulling away from Ghost.

“No,” he growls, large arms hooking under your thighs. He drags you back. “We’re not done.”

The stranger pounds on the door again. “Ghost!”

“Piss off!” he shouts over the top of your thigh.

Whoever is on the other side of the door laughs. “Captain sent me.”

With a deep sigh, Ghost rests his forehead against your stomach. “Stay here,” he murmurs. He lifts his head, lips glossy, and there is so much hunger in his gaze that it momentarily spears you. “I’m not done with you.”

Jesus Christ.

Ghost pushes off from the bed, and you remain the stagnant deer, frozen to the spot. The pounding comes again, the door rattling loudly in its frame. He strides forward, steps purposeful and pounding.

Disengaging the lock, Ghost yanks open the door. Bright sunlight pours in. “What the bloody hell is it, Soap?”

Soap. You know that name. He sat beside Lieutenant Riley in the Humvee.

Without the plain black balaclava on, you have a clear view of Soap’s face. His eyes are a lovely blue, his dark brown hair is styled into a short mohawk, the sides shaved but not bald. In his arms is a stack of neatly folded clothes.

Soap’s eyebrows rise toward his hairline. He whistles, taking in all of Ghost’s nakedness. “Damn, Lt. What a greeting.” He shrugs, smiling like an idiot. “Feel a bit overdressed.”

“You’re taking the piss,” mutters Ghost. “What do you want?”

Soap opens his mouth, clearly intending to deliver a message, but his gaze snags as if caught on a fishing hook.

“Fucking hell,” he breathes as he focuses in on your nude body.

You snatch the bedsheet, covering yourself quickly.

“Eyes on me, Sergeant,” growls Ghost. There’s no kindness in it—only authority.

Soap’s gaze lingers for a few seconds, eventually shifting back to Ghost. “This an open invitation, Lt?”

“No.”

“Sure about that?” asks Soap. He starts to lean to the side, peering at you around Ghost’s shoulder.

Ghost steps into his line of sight, cutting you off from his view. “Put one foot inside this door and I’ll fucking kill you.”

Soap snorts. “Okay, Lt,” he laughs. “I’ll back off.”

Tucking the sheet around you, you scoot down the bed, leaning forward to listen in.

“What’s all this?”

“Clothes,” answers Soap. “Clean uniform for you. Things for her.”

Ghost grunts and extends his arms. Soap surrenders the clothes to him. “Should grab breakfast before it’s all gone.”

“We’ll do that,” mumbles Ghost.

Soap shrugs, and then a wickedly mischievous grin spreads over his face. “Unless this is your breakfast?”

Ghost’s answer is to slam the door in Soap’s face.

There will be no continuation. It’s clear from the heave of Ghost’s shoulders before he turns around to face you. And it’s not like you want to anyway. The fleeting moment of desperation and craving for human connection is shattered. Reality has made a home in your bones, sobering you against the lust you felt only minutes ago.

“What did he bring?” you ask, sliding to the edge of the bed.

Ghost walks up to the bed, dropping the stack on the edge. He starts to sort it, dividing everything into two piles.

“There’s pants and a long-sleeved shirt for you.” He tosses them into your lap. “Socks. A jacket.” Ghost goes through the clothes one more time. “Nothing else.”

No bra or underwear. That’s fine. You can go without for now.

As you start to turn away with the intent to dress yourself, Ghost’s arm rises, his large hand grasping the side your neck. You’re forced back around, staring up at him. He takes a step forward into your space, but you don’t break eye contact. You don’t dare look away.

Everything is falling back into place.

You hate this man even if his mouth made you moan. All you know has been ripped from you, and Ghost is leading you toward a huge unknown without even considering what you want. It’s wrong. It’s fucked up.

It’s a drowning.

In an act of defiance, you attempt to jerk out of his hold, but Ghost remains firm, squeezing until you comply.

“If you want to belong to me, just say the word. I can make it happen.”

You remain mute. Silent.

Fuck him. Fuck all of this.

You are not a toy. Not a piece of property. You are a person, and that should be enough. At home, you were an equal, and no one dared lay hands on you. But this is not home. This is…society. What’s left of it. The very dredges of humanity.

And it’s like scraping the bottom of a shit pot.

Whether Ghost likes your silence or not is unclear. When he releases your neck, he doesn’t ask again, and he doesn’t make conversation. He completely turns away from you, dressing like you’re not even in the room.

Tears form, threatening to spill over, to make you appear weak and frail before him. Angrily wiping at your eyes, you drop the sheet and give Ghost your back. He’s already seen you naked. Fuck—you were holding yourself open while he tongued your pussy. What’s a bit of skin?

You dress quickly, wanting to fix your hair in the mirror before you leave. But as you turn around, you find all your thoughts leaving you. Ghost is a masterpiece of a human, and that ember from earlier sparks again, insisting when it shouldn’t.

His pants are black camo. On his upper body is a long sleeve tactical shirt, solid black in the front and back while the sleeves are black camo. Ghost reaches for his gun, attaching it to his thigh. Next are his knives which he lays out on the small desk nearby. You observe but say nothing as he laces up his boots and slides one of the knives into it.

You expect the skull mask, the eye black. Instead, Ghost slips on a plain black balaclava. On his upper bicep is the flag of the United Kingdom and of the United Nations. Neither of those should exist, and you don’t entirely believe what Ghost said last night. There are still questions lingering in your mind, and though you desperately crave answers, this doesn’t seem like the time.

Ghost clears his throat as he adjusts his belt. “Let’s get some food in you.”

A bit of bite comes to the surface. “As I recall,” you begin. “You were wanting to put something else in me just a few minutes ago.”

Ghost stills, his hands still on his belt. “Are you already on your bullshit today?”

“Fuck you,” you mutter.

Guiding the belt through the loop, Ghost tugs, tightening it. “You said you wouldn’t cause problems.”

“How am I causing problems?” you reply, extending your arms outward as if the problem is a physical thing in the room with you.

Ghost shakes his head, giving the belt one more tug before securing it. “My control is thin right now, love.”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not your ‘love.’ I’m not anything to you. We’re not friends. Or lovers.”

Ghost chuckles, placing his hands on his hips. “What would you like me to call you?”

“Use my fucking name.”

Just a few steps and Ghost is on you. You stagger backwards, falling onto the bed as he cages you in. “It is taking everything in me not to rip off your clothes and bend you over.”

“Fucking try it,” you snarl.

Ghost is completely calm, unfazed by your outburst. “You’d look so pretty full of me.”

You know he’s goading you. And you fall for it. “I don’t want anything to do with you.”

“I’d keep you here,” he continues. “Fucking breed you until you’re dripping.” Ghost pushes in, and you have nowhere to go. His face is so close, the fabric of the balaclava scratches your skin. “Put a baby in you. Then you’d truly belong to me.”

No. No.

“You’re no better than those men you killed.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, bird. With me, you’d be protected. Cared for. You’d want for nothing.”

“You don’t even know me,” you reply. “Every word you say is a lie.”

Ghost shakes his head. “I don’t lie.” You scoff, but he continues. “And you can’t take back what happened this morning.”

With both hands on his chest, you shove at him. Ghost doesn’t budge. He is a rock. Immovable.

“You wanted me,” he murmurs.

“Shut up,” you stammer, shoving at him again.

“So wet,” he purrs. “And it was all for me.”

“Stop,” you plead, giving him another shove.

Ghost pushes off from the bed in one fluid movement. Grasping your wrists, he yanks you up and onto your feet.

“I’m not your enemy,” he says like his word alone is enough for you to agree.

It’s all fucked. All of it. You need to survive, to make sure you’re safe for whatever comes to greet you, but you’re afraid. Fearful, like a cornered animal.

Lieutenant Riley is your enemy as much as he is your protector. It’s maddening. Unfair.

I don’t want to go with you. I want to go home.

You lick your lips, trying so desperately hard not to fall apart in front of him. “Then show me,” you plead.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @suhmie @z-wantstowrite @kylies-love-letter @keiva1000

@iloveslasher @ravenpoe67 @sadlonelybagel @nishim @arrozyfrijoles23

@voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff @sageyxbabey @xllizs @miaraei

@weasleytwins-41 @eternallyvenus @chaostwinsofdestruction @cherryofdeath @ninman82

@fern-reads @waves-against-a-cliff @beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx

@jianyi22 @sethell @atpeacee @konigssweatyhood @dreamingoftomorrow

@katerinaval @morguethemagpie @galactict3a @sarah-the-bird-nerd @mikachu-bitez

@unclearblur @kurochan3 @sans-chara @all-by-myself98 @hisuccubus

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@youre-a-wallflower-charlie @tiredmetalenthusiast @sporadicpizzainternet @tessakate @mistresssolana

[dyingswanpavlova]

Stranger Danger

Part 1

Pairing: The Salesman x Reader

Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Helplessness, Manipulation

I think there are no more warnings for this chapter, but so far, I'm sure there will be Noncon in the future. I'm just saying that now already to make sure people who get triggered by that know it.

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Your father always warned you not to get into a stranger's car, but he never mentioned what you should do if you need help and the stranger seems like a good guy.

You remembered your father’s words like a mantra, safe and gentle, but no less stern.

Don’t get into stranger’s cars.

Looking back, you always assumed he saw you as rather silly or slow. He hadn’t warned your sister half as much as he had you. You were weak-willed. You were naïve. You trusted anyone, no matter how many times they fucked you over – your father knew. And yet, he couldn't help you. No one could.

He had been there to protect you most of your life. Many things you never needed to do yourself – take out the trash, build any furniture or even walk to school. He was there to do these things for you, even long after you moved out. You never saw anything weird in it, though you assumed some people might have. Yes, you were a little naïve, silly even when it came to trusting people. But why would you not? Your parents were good people and you grew up in a perfect world.

Of course you weren’t some kind of internal deadbeat. You knew how to cook and clean, you got your school finished and you got yourself a job. It wasn’t like your parents just did everything for you, but you always knew that they were there.

You had always depended on them and you weren’t shy to admit that. You loved your parents.

Your mother was the epitome of motherly love. Whatever it was about, you and your sister came first. She didn’t think about herself, up to point where it got really annoying. Whenever she got something, like a perfume set or a gift card, she’d offer it to you. You and your sister, you had to forcefully make her go and buy something for herself. It was just in her nature. Her own parents had been like that, giving everything to her and her brother, before they thought about themselves and so she simply continued with the cycle.

Your father was a little different – at least his upbringing. His parents hadn’t loved him. Not because he wouldn’t be lovable, no, he had been no more than a little boy. But his own mother was a selfish hag who cared only about herself, leaving him to live with her parents, after she left your grandfather. Your father didn’t have a relationship with him until he was over thirty. He got raised by his grandparents. They loved him, yes, but they simply weren’t his parents.

The devil – how you liked to refer to your grandmother – snuck her way back into his life, right after he got married to your mother. You’d spent most of your childhood watching her eat away at your mother’s soul, keeping her small and belittled every step of the way. So, it was safe to say, your mother was unhappy – but she never took that bitterness out on you.

Your father, surprisingly, turned out to be a good father. Great, even. It was mostly your mother’s influence, but you could the spark of a great person, hidden behind all that suppressed anger.

You and your sister got really lucky with your parents, you knew that and you appreciated it. Appreciated them. You’d spend many nights of your childhood sleeping curled up between them and they never complained. There was always space for you. You had always felt the safest that way, not only as a child, but even as a teenager.

At some point that stopped of course, but you never felt any less safe around them. You had your problems like all families, but one thing was always a priority: your safety.

So, when your father told you to never get into a stranger’s car, you believed him and you listened. It wasn’t exactly that anyone ever tried to kidnap you. You got lucky in that regard as well. But the problem was, you had no idea what exactly would happen if someone did.

Of course you weren’t an idiot and not a virgin, either. You had sex with a few people, most of them regrets. Except for one. Your ex-boyfriend. The only meaningful thing you had ever had or so you thought.

You’d fallen in love with him like people did in movies – quick and relentless.

If he had asked you to die back then, you probably would have. Just to please him. That was how much you loved him. But of course he didn’t take advantage of it, not like that. He was a good person. Your parents raised you well in that regard – you recognized good people. And when you loved, you loved. So, you loved him for years.

But at some point life got in-between you, just like work and everything else – and in the end, you were alone. The love had simply not been there anymore, not in the way you both wished it had. Looking back, you still had no idea if there had been a main reason or many small reasons. Whatever it was - you broke up and now you were alone.

At twenty-five.

Probably not that bad, right?

But to you it felt like you were thirty-five, divorced with five children to raise on your own.

How were you supposed to start anew? Meet someone new?

The thought was almost ridiculous to you. You had never really been alone, it was a foreign concept to you. There were always either your family, your friends or your boyfriend.

But maybe, you thought, maybe you needed a change.

Maybe you needed to be alone, at least for a while. Really on your own.

You needed to face the struggles you had been spared so far. Maybe, you needed to build your own wardrobe. And if it took fucking weeks. Maybe you needed space.

A new space. For yourself. On your very own.

The thought had sounded tempting back in the day, but now, as you struggled to see through the dark, getting lost on Was this even a road? Oh God, had you lost the road? you weren’t so sure anymore.

You couldn’t tell why you had picked Seoul of all places. You hated big cities. You had grown up in a small town, facing the same people every day.

Safe.

Being young, you had hated it and only ever waited to grow up and move to a big city to live the fucking life. But the older you got and the more you understood how the world worked, the less tempting it became.

A small town sounded just perfect.

It wasn’t even really safe there, it wasn’t safe anywhere being a woman. But a big city sounded even more insane.

And yet you thought, that was just the way. Maybe you needed a little excitement, just to get back on track and finally feel alive again.

Being seventeen, life had felt endless. Up to the point where it almost annoyed you. Couldn’t you ever grow up enough to make your own decisions?

But now, being twenty-five and being able to make your own decisions, you had quickly realized: making decisions sucked. Probably not for everyone, but for you it sure did. Because somehow you felt like you always made the wrong ones.

So, you needed something new. A change of color, a new perspective, anything.

You were twenty-five, for God’s sake. But you felt like you were about to die.

So, you quit your job. It wasn’t the most sane decision, probably, but you soon realized you wanted more than the boring life of a retail worker in a small town with no chance at anything new.

SNU.

That was the way.

You’d do something reckless, something entirely insane.

Psychology maybe. Or neuroscience.

You had a great interest in many things, but you never finished anything. You just…existed. You didn’t burn for anything.

Until that one day that you called a landlord in Seoul, the day you sent away your university application…

And got accepted. By both.

Your family was devastated. Seoul wasn’t the end of the world, but sure enough it was far away. Too far to see them every day.

Your mother was especially bad. She had been crying more than you could take and so had you. You had begged and assured that you would come back – you just needed to do this. For you.

Eventually, she accepted it. But you saw the pain in her eyes and it was killing you. Even your tough-as-nails sister had cried. But what stung worst?

Your father.

Your father was a good man and he sure was a good father, but that didn’t mean he was soft. Looking back you had only ever seen him be strong for you. Crying? You had only seen him cry once. When his father died. And he didn’t even cry because of that, no, he cried because he had to leave you and your family behind to go to the funeral. He was only gone for a week, but it had been bad enough. The way he sat by your bed, his eyes red and stinging, in the middle of the night. You were still a kid back then, but the look in his eyes haunted you.

When you told him you would move away, he had protested just as much, but begrudgingly accepted it. That was until the day came.

He stood before you, his hands holding onto your arms just a fraction too tight – and you saw it. His red-rimmed eyes, his concern, his pain.

He was in pain because of you. They all were.

You would never forget that sight.

And yet, you went ahead and left.

They weren’t angry. Only heartbroken. But God, would you have preferred their anger.

Of course your father arranged everything with precision. You, him and a few of his friends had taken your stuff to your new apartment. Your mother had insisted to help you clean it. So, you’d spent days scrubbing and cleaning, while your sister stood-by, shooting you playful glares as she pretended to clean your windows, until your mother scolded her.

The apartment wasn’t big, but it was enough. It was yours.

Covered in paintings you liked and a few things from home you needed to keep you grounded. Family pictures all over of course. Your mothers oven cloths. The blue mug your sister bought you when you were still little. Your father’s black, worn-out jacket. It covered you almost whole and you needed it. You needed it all, because you needed them.

It would have been a good idea if one those times you went there, you had been the one to drive. But of course your father didn’t let you, because he didn’t want to make your life any harder than it was. So, he drove – and you had no idea how to get there on your own.

It wasn’t an all too long drive, only forty-five minutes. You went early enough, by three pm, but you somehow managed to fuck everything up and get lost anyway. So bad, that of course, it got dark outside.

Your life was a tragic comedy.

 It didn’t help that your battery was at fifteen percent. The clever thing would have been to call your father. But you didn’t want to, not yet at least. You didn’t want to be such a baby. And what would you have told him anyway?

Dad, I’m too dumb to read Google Maps. Can you come and pick me up?

He would, of course. But you could already picture your sister making fun of you for the rest of your life. You knew, in the end, she wanted you to be safe as well. But you wanted to make it on your own, just this one time.

But when you heard that God-awful sound, you knew you were in trouble.

Something about the engine wasn’t right, it made these sounds sometimes. But so far it had never smelled like smoke.

The moment you smelled it, you didn’t hesitate to hit the brakes. With wide eyes, you stared at the road ahead of you. No sight of a fucking city, just darkness and you were trapped here.

The panic you felt was unlike you had ever felt before. Everything else had been peanuts, but this was real. A real problem.

Your fingers curled around the steering wheel tightly and you took a deep, shaky breath in order to calm down.

“Fucking shit.”

You reached for your phone, already in dire need of whatever help you could get. So, you did what you had to and you dialed your father’s number.

But he didn’t pick up. Not by the first try, nor the second. Your mother had lost her phone only yesterday and your sister was most likely still at work. And there you were. Trapped.

You stared down at the phone in your hand, your eyes wide and your breath stuttering in your chest.

Should you call the police? And what would you tell them?

Please track my phone, I don’t know where I am and I don’t know how to drive a manual car.

Fuck.

You flinched when you saw the light in the rearview mirror.

Fuck. Fuck.

You were in the middle of the road – if one could call this muddy puddle a road. You quickly reached for the key and turned it in order to take your car to the side, but nothing. You turned it again and still.

Dead.

“Fuck!”

You kept yanking at the key, desperate to make anything work. Your brain was clouded, it was almost as if you suddenly forgot how to start a car. You pushed every button and pedal there was, but nothing happened.

“Oh, no…”

Your grip on the wheel tightened and you looked into the mirror again. The car behind you was waiting, almost patiently. You couldn’t see the driver, but your panic was making you nauseous.

You raised a hand as if to symbolize your apology – that you were doing your best. But still nothing.

You fumbled for your phone again, calling your father countless times.

“Pleasepleaseplease- Fuck!”

Your fingers were trembling.

Oh God, this was so embarrassing.

You looked into the mirror again. No honk to be heard. Whoever there was behind you was more patient than you were, because you began to hit your phone against the wheel, as if that would help you, anyway. You tugged on your hair and released a frustrated shriek.

“Fuck!”

It was only then that you saw it. A movement in the corner of your eye. His form approached your window in the darkness, gently tapping his knuckles against it. You flinched so violently, that he immediately took a step back. His eyes widened and he held up his hands, as if surrendering.

You stared at him like a madwoman.

Fuck. It couldn’t get any more embarrassing than this, right?

You swallowed and rolled the window down the tiniest bit. You could never know.

“I’m sorry.” You croaked out. “It won’t start. I’ll be gone in a minute, I promise.”

“It’s okay.” The man’s expression softened. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He raked a hand through his dark hair and looked back at his own car, before he met your gaze again. “What happened?” He suddenly frowned. “And what’s that smell?”

You sighed deeply and slumped back against the seat. “I don’t know. I just now smelled it and it won’t start. I don’t know what to-“

You felt a lump in your throat and you quickly forced your gaze away. Of course you’d end up crying to a stranger, the one time you tried to make it on your own.

He exhaled a slow breath. “It’s okay.” He said in a soft tone. “Take your time. I’m not in a hurry.”

His voice was so gentle and reassuring that the lump passed. You took a deep breath and tried to start the car again, but still nothing. You shot him a helpless look.

His expression was a mixture of concern and mild amusement. Not in a mocking way, the situation was just so…ridiculous. You couldn’t blame him.

“I could try, if you want me to.”

You bit your lip and glanced back down at your phone. What were the facts? It was dark and he was a stranger. But what else? You were alone and trapped. So, if you didn’t want to end up here all night…

You eyed him almost imperceptibly. He was a handsome man, maybe in his late thirties or early forties. He was wearing a suit and a mild smile. He didn’t exactly look like the axe murder type.

He caught your gaze and his expression softened further.

“I could also call the car service, if you’d prefer that.”

No. He wasn’t the murderous type.

But you didn’t want to cause more fuss than necessary.

You clutched your phone in one hand and your home keys in the other. One key between each finger, just like your father showed you. Then you shook your head.

“Maybe you could get it to work.” With a soft click, you opened the door. He took a respectful step back as you got out. Once you stood you realized he was even more handsome close-up. He was also much taller than you, but he didn’t really seem like the intimidating type. You took a step back, allowing him entrance.

He slid into the driver’s seat with a gentle elegance. He adjusted a few settings, before he tried to start the engine. The motor roared, but nothing more. And that burnt smell only ever got worse.

He crinkled his nose and shook his head. “Did that ever happen before?”

You shook your head. “I don’t think so. It’s my father’s old car, so I’m not sure.”

He nodded. “Can I take a look?”

You shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He slid outside and circled the car. With a soft click he opened the bonnet. You used the moment to check him out further. He looked like a business man, probably on his way home from work. He didn’t wear a ring though. You had, at least, expected a wife. Would have made him less of a danger, right?

Maybe he was divorced.

Maybe he was a single father and his bitch wife left him and the children behind.

You decided to go with that story. That made you feel less uneasy. He was a good person, in that case. Working hard and taking care of his poor children.

Your focus quickly shifted back to the car the second you saw the smoke rise from under the hood.

“What the-“

“It’s okay.” He said immediately. “Cars don’t just explode. They only do that in movies.” He shot you a reassuring smile, though his forehead was still crinkled in a small frown. “I’m pretty sure it’s only overheated. Do you have any coolant on you?”

You stared at him with wide eyes, that one look enough to give away how helpless you were.

That made him smile, but only halfway.

“That’s okay. Maybe your father keeps it in the trunk? I’ll go take a look.”

With a soft sigh, you watched him circle the car again and open the trunk with ease.

“Oh, are you moving?” He called over as he caught sight of the last few items you were carrying from home, like a few backpacks, a computer and a plant you would, no question, end up killing anyway. But your mother insisted you took it with you.

“Yes.” You said hesitantly. “I’m moving to Seoul.”

“I am from Seoul.” He said calmly, as he rummaged through the things in order to find something helpful. “You’re quite a bit off the road here.”

His words sent an unpleasant shiver down your spine. You couldn’t stop yourself from asking. “And what are you doing here then?”

You knew how stupid it sounded, almost accusing. But you couldn’t help it. You still heard your father’s voice in your head. A quick glance down at your phone showed you that still no-one had called back.

He pulled his head back and regarded you with an understanding smile. “I work not far from here. You might even have passed by. It’s actually impossible to miss. A great, grey building complex with a stallion up front. We sell Mercedes cars.”

You thought back to it and indeed. You remembered the horse.

“That’s where you work?”

He nodded. “Unfortunately, I’m not as good at repairing cars as I am at selling them.” His smile softened and he quietly closed the trunk. “I don’t have any coolant on me either, I’m afraid. That’s my company car, not my private one. It’s mostly to show off.”

That made your own expression soften. “No, no, that’s not your…I’ll call my father.” You were already dialing again. But, fucking shit, he didn’t pick up. He always picked up his phone and today, of course, he didn’t.

He stood opposite you and looked at you curiously. “Will it take him long to get here? I wouldn’t want to leave you here alone. I can wait with you, until he arrives.”

You looked down at the phone in your hands, a soft sigh on your lips. “It might take him a while. I just moved out today and I was hoping…” You looked at him with a tilt of your head and a careful smile. “I was hoping I would make it at least a day without having to call him.”

His expression softened even more, loosening his handsome features into something you really enjoyed looking at.

“I understand.” He murmured. “Listen, I could have the car service here within a few minutes. I will gladly pay for it.”

Your eyes widened in surprise and your head snapped up. That was a really generous offer and you simply didn’t expect it. Maybe it wasn’t really necessary to keep your guard up all the time. Maybe not all people were bad. Though your father did make it sound like most of them were.

“That’s very kind, but I cannot accept that. But thank you. Really. I’ll just…” You shrugged and smiled again, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’ll just call my father. It’s not that big of a deal.”

He regarded you with a thoughtful look and you suddenly realized, he must think I’m stupid. If I want to call my father, why am I not already talking to him? Fuck, because he isn’t picking up his goddamn phone.

Before you could say anything more though, he spoke up. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but you know, I could just take you to the garage.”

When you didn’t answer at first, he shrugged. “I don’t have any coolant, but I sure do have a tow bar.”

The thought of getting this done without your families help sounded tempting, but the thought of getting in his car still made you feel uneasy. No matter how nice he was being, he was still a stranger – and you knew what those could do. You had watched enough documentaries to know everyone from Jim Jones to Richard Ramirez.

“I…”

He held up his hands again. “No pressure. As I said, I’ll gladly wait with you until your father arrives.”

You took a quick glance at your phone and bit your lip. It was almost six. Until your father arrived, it would be at least seven. And you already heard your sister’s voice in your head.

I knew you couldn’t make it on your own. Silly little thing, moving to Seoul.

She had pulled you out of trouble more than once and she had never shut up about it. Eventually, you looked up to meet his gaze again. “I don’t want to be any trouble.”

He smiled at that. Soft. Reassuring. Almost trustworthy.

“I promise you, you’re not. I’m not exactly a knight, but I wouldn’t forgive myself if I left you here like this.”

A few moments later, you finally gave in.

How bad could it possibly end? After all, he had the ghost of a wife and his poor children at home, right?

[jobean12-blog]

You and Me

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

Word Count: ~600

Summary: It's just you and Joel...living in every moment you have.

Author's Note: I'm in my feels today and I heard the song "You and Me" by Lifehouse today and I've been thinking about the premiere of TLOU 2 tonight and I just don't know...I mean I know...but I don't. I'M FINE!...ugh. It's just a small blurb. Anyway, come feel stuff with me. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divide by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: There's a joke in here! And cookies! And softness but it definitely has an angsty feel-which is just mirroring my own feels.

💕PS NO spoilers obviously...

The streets are quiet as night approaches. Everyone is already locked up inside the promising safety of their houses.

You reach the edge of town and climb the ladder at the wall, careful with your footing, and when you reach the top you see him sitting on the small defensive outpost, only the shadows cast from the dying afternoon light surrounding him.

Step by quiet step, you make your way toward him, balancing the small paper plate in your hand and willing the wind not to rip it free.

“What are you doin’ out here darlin’?” he asks, his gaze focused on the expanse of land below.

You set the plate down and sit next to him.

“I made cookies.”

He glances at the cookies, then leans in and brushes his mouth over yours before grabbing one.

“Thank you.”

The cold seeps into your clothes and you note the heavy gray clouds moving in from the west.

“It’s already snowing over the mountains,” you say quietly. “I bet we get at least eight inches tonight.”

“Maybe more if you’re good.” The corners of his lips lift as he brings the cookie to his mouth.

“Did you just…make a joke? A dick joke?”

“You’re talkin’ about the weather,” he counters, taking a bite then holding it up to your mouth.

“Just thought you might want to talk about something…normal.”

You take the offered bite then watch him take another. A long moment passes before you rise to the challenge in his eyes and ask, “What are you out here thinking about?”

He’s quiet for so long the first flakes of snow start to descend, and you move the cookies out of the way to scoot closer to him, pressing yourself against his side.

“I’m scared.” His admission is all but a whisper and you tuck yourself closer.

He lifts his arm and curls it around you, the scruff on his jaw thick with days of unkempt growth and the coldness of his beard tickling your skin as he buries his face in your neck and breathes deeply.

You give him no reply because there isn’t one and when the cold finally chills you to your bones you both retreat, leaving whatever the future holds behind you as best you can.

The house is warm despite the chill still clinging to your body and when you come out of the bathroom to find him already in bed and waiting, it takes all your resolve not to throw yourself toward him.

He’s moved your discarded book to the nightstand, holding your page with one of his small knives. The thoughtfulness of his gesture makes a small smile play upon your lips.

He pulls the covers on your side away and holds them up.

“Are you okay?”

“I am now.” His voice softens to the tone he only ever uses with you, weakening your knees as he hovers over you and lowers his mouth to yours.

It’s a slow and gentle kiss but even so it heats you from the inside out and when he deepens the pressure you sigh into it, letting the rest of the world disintegrate around you.

Hours later, warm and sated, you lie awake in bed, the brightness of the blanket of snow outside the window making the walls in the room glow.

When you feel him shift and reach out you curl your body around his, and his arm wraps around your back and pulls you closer in a way that can only be described as instinctive, like he’ll be doing it for the next hundred years. You settle against his warmth and lay your head on his chest, above the most comforting sound in the world, his heartbeat.

[revelboo]

omg, your stories are so good!! Really love that you write for characters I don't usually get to see, like waspinator, the insecticons, etc. Plus you also got me interested in Sunstorm, Which is surprising cause I didn't used to give him a second thought, before. Now I'm curious about where that story is going. Can't wait to see what you do in the future!

You guys have challenged me to write for a lot of characters I’d never written before and I love it

Where I Belong Pt 12

Bluestreak x Reader

• Waking up tangled in someone else, it takes a moment to remember that Blue had never mass shifted back after telling you all of it. He’d just wrapped himself around you, grieving until he’d finally gone into recharge still clinging to you like you’re his security blanket. Now his face is jammed against your neck, one of the points of his chevron digging uncomfortably into your cheek and his knee is between your thighs, arms wrapped around you. And he’s still out, you can feel him venting against you and you don’t have the heart to wake him. Tipping your head back to try and avoid getting poked by his chevron, you listen to the hum of his internal systems.

• There’s a soft hand on his helm, arms holding him and he curls tighter against that warmth and safety. Slowly coming out of recharge without that hum of terror chasing him into alertness. Without the nightmares. “Blue, honey, I can’t breathe,” you say and he’s fully online. Head lifting, he realizes he’s wrapped around you and he awkwardly scoots back. Forcing himself to stop smothering you and to put some distance between you both when he just wants to bury his face back against you. Feel those soft hands on him telling him that he’s okay. Reassuring him. “Sleep okay?” You ask him, somehow not annoyed with him when you should be. Have every right to be.

• “Sorry. I guess I got a little clingy there.” He can’t even look you in the eye right now, too embarrassed about needing someone to hold him. Like there’s something wrong with him for it. And you wiggle closer, resting your cheek on his chassis. See his arm lift, hand hovering but not touching and you grab his wrist and firmly drag his arm down to drape over you. “You don’t have to,” he murmurs, voice small. Like he thinks he’s bothering you and it makes you more determined to stay right where you are.

• “What am I doing? You’re warm and it’s freezing in here,” you reply, relaxing against him with a yawn. Pretending that you’re not trying to comfort him, trying to help. Servos hesitantly playing with your hair, he forces himself to relax. Willing to play along if he can feel your heart beating against him, grounding him in the reality that he’s not alone anymore. Doesn’t expect you to stay. No one ever does, but wants to hang on to this feeling until you get tired with him. Until he becomes too much of a burden.

• “Thank you,” he whispers and that almost breaks your heart. Like the fact that anyone might just actually want to reach out to him, to stay beside him is unthinkable to him. Makes you want to hunt down whoever put that thought into his head and beat some sense into them. Because this sweet bot is beginning to mean the world to you and you’re determined to protect him at any cost.

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[jaijeijayjei]

I'm starting to realize people perceive Mel with the assumption that she has bad intentions, so that's all they see in her.

The writers have said Mel was written to seem as a one-dimensional manipulator, but in reality she is a multi-layered individual with complex motivations. Rewatching her earlier scenes with that in mind brings her into a completely new light.

(justification for these interpretations under the cut)

"Mel invested in Hextech for power and influence"

Or, she invested in them because she believed in Hextech's potential to change the world for the better?

"Mel pressured Jayce to reveal his new inventions so she can cash in on the profit"

Or, she understands Heimerdinger is stuck in the past and doesn't want him to hinder Jayce's progress?

"Mel sleeps with Jayce to make him more pliable"

Or, she genuinely admires Jayce and sees a way to be free of her family's bloody legacy by working alongside him.

"Mel turns Jayce into a corrupt politician for her own gain"

Or, Mel believes protecting Hextech's interest is more important than trade laws.

"Mel wanted Hextech weapons to make Piltover more powerful"

Or, she only wanted weapons as a last resort and for self-defense.

"Mel will do anything to prove herself to her family"

Or, Mel also wants to prove that ruling with diplomacy is superior to ruling with cold pragmatism and brute force.

Yes there are times Mel acts out of self-interest and a desire for power, but those aren't her only motivations. Mel subverts the "shady corrupt politician" trope, she is not defined by it.

I believe Mel is being genuine in her conversation with Jayce in S1 E5, about wanting to give back to the world. In her argument with Jayce in S2 E8, she explains why she invested in Hextech to begin with. She saw two brilliant scientists, capable of impossible things, rallying the hearts of a nation. Mel believed in Jayce and Viktor's potential to do good. Also, she has shown the wellbeing of Piltover (and in S2, the safety of Zaunites), are more important to her than personal gain.

Jayce specifically went to her for advice, and she gave it. Doesn't this imply Jayce views her as an ally or advisor as well as an investor? He clearly values her opinions.

During Mel's whole childhood, her family and homeland tried to shape her into someone she was not- a cold, pragmatic ruler willing to do anything to maintain power. Her way of ruling was scorned by her mother as "soft spined" and foolish, but with Jayce she found someone who believed in and appreciated her. Plus she was personally affronted when he left her in bed. It's more than likely she acted out of genuine attraction and admiration.

Side note: Jayce has already shown he's alright with breaking the rules for the greater good. He illegally experimented with magic, broke into Heimer's lab, and led an unsanctioned attack. Jayce and Mel are more aligned in this way than he realizes- Mel believes securing Hextech's future is more important than breaking a few trade laws. Jayce was in a vulnerable position, with a target on his back. She could have used that against him, but didn't.

Mel is a pragmatic pacifist, even from childhood. Mel is very much anti-war because she understands how destructive it is, having grown up in Noxus.

Mel's rift from her family is an ideological one- she values leading with diplomacy is disgusted by Noxus' brutality. If she can make Piltover successful, it proves that there are better ways to rule than what Noxus insists upon. Mel has also shown her morals are more important to her than power. She turns down opportunities to elevate her position tremendously by siding with her mother or advocating for an invasion because it goes against her moral compass.

[allmightluver]

@hhbluedynamite I’m going to make separate post here to address this. Tumblr mobile is a pain and I can’t add all picture examples I want to it here goes.

This has been a debate ever since My Hero came out,

“Why are All Mights eyes black?”

There’s been multiple explanations from how his borrowed quirk works to simply his own emaciated state. I’ve come up with my own theory. It’s said the eyes are the windows to the soul. I believe All Might’s eyes grow darker the more “weight” he carries.

For example,

When All Might was a kid, his eyes were normal. White. After losing his family, rendering him an orphan, white. Even after losing Nana, still he looked normal.

And after first releasing to the public.

This is because although he’d already been thru hell and back emotionally, he’s still normal. Even with his quirk.

Then, after he’d been in the game a while, they suddenly darkened.

Why?

Because by that time, the full gravity of his position, his responsibility and the realization he was essentially alone in that place, had fully sunk in.

Because he was so over powered above everyone else, everyone including the heroes left him to take care of almost everything they felt was too hard. And because he’s a selfless person at heart without a care to his own safety, he willingly allowed it to happen without asking for help. He didn’t want to risk losing anyone else. Which is also why he didn’t take on any sidekicks.

Until Nighteye.

Vigilantes showed us Toshinori when he wasn’t being All Might. And his eyes turn back into white in his more relaxed form, albeit with tired lines beneath them. However this is when he had Nighteye to count on. And Nighteye can see the future, so perhaps he would be safe, right? Well we know what happened there.

After he and Nighteye break up go their separate ways, we never see Toshinori with white eyes again. (Unless I’m forgetting so please tell me if I am). Now he’s injured, only a handful of people to trust, and none can truly understand what he’s going through. At this time he truly is alone, and the one thing that gives him joy is slowly but surely being fizzled out within him.

All Might’s eyes continued to remain black for years. Even after giving his quirk to Izuku. He still felt the weight of the world on his shoulders because he feared for Izuku’s safety. Blamed himself for every scar and Injury the boy suffered thru. Even though he was retired, nothing had changed. In fact it was worse now, because he could do nothing to help anymore.

And then he gains support items to face AFO for the last time. He’s a distraction, a willing sacrifice to slow the monster down, and he couldn’t be happier. We see the whites of his for the first time. All through the fight we see them, shaded albeit, but they’re there.

When he speaks to Nighteye asking if this isn’t the place he was meant to die, Nighteye confirms that it is. The fact that he’s still alive makes him raise the question, why is he still here then? I’m the mentor, Izuku is a ready and worthy apprentice. He doesn’t need me anymore. I’m supposed to be dead by now. His eyes seem darker here, as if the weight and his own depression have increased again. Perhaps begrudgingly accepting his fate.

But then here after Nighteye tells him he reads too many comic books, and that there’s no way he would go out that way, we get a closer look. Although his eyes are still shrouded in black because of his emaciated state. His eyes themselves are clearer, brighter. Even if Nighteye is only in his head, his words are still bringing him hope deep down.

While being tended to medically, his eyes are dark again, though I believe this is mainly due to him barely being alive and conscious at this point. And they’re still white, more than we’re used to seeing.

Finally after the war while they’re recovering, his eyes remain white, though they’re still shaded. The weight is still present. His work isn’t done yet. Izuku is losing his quirk, and he still feels like a failure in some sense because of that. Also because he and Bakugo almost died. And because of everyone who did die in the war all because he failed to stop AFO after three tries.

People who weren’t qualified to be heroes were even involved in this battle. And he thinks it unfair to hold such high standards when there are people who can still help, even if not at the extreme levels of the top heroes. He and Deku are proof of that!

In the last chapter several years later, we finally see Old Man Might! And his eyes-they’re so bright. ❤️

Of course they’ll always have a little shadow to them because of his sunken in appearance, but the tired lines under his eyes are gone. There’s not the black bags from pushing himself too hard, just the normal wrinkles that come with age.

This is Toshinori that’s been missing for decades. The man whose impossible weight has finally been lifted off his shoulders. He knows he can finally relax, he doesn’t have to be on alert or on call anymore. The world is safe without him.

He even found a way for Izuku to keep up his hero work with a suit similar to his own during the war (though most definitely suped up).

Finally, he can be at peace. His body, soul, and mind can finally begin to heal. He can work through all of the trauma he’s been stuffing down all of his life.

Finally, he can live.

[blouisparadise]

Today we have the third part to our long fic rec list! These fics are all 100k words or more. You can check out the first part to this rec list here and the second part to this rec list here. If you enjoy our rec lists, please be sure to like and reblog this post to help spread the word.

1) There’s No Way Out (But Down) | Mature | 100,210 words 

When Harry had woken up that first day with a light tingling in his fingers, maybe he should have known something was going to go wrong. Now, sat in an empty field in fucking nowhere America, covered in blood, he realises he couldn’t save everyone. He knows his limits, has had them drilled into his head from the moment he was old enough to retain words. He knows he shouldn’t mess with the natural order of things. He knows that what will happen will happen one way or another either way. And yet, he can’t control himself. For the third time, he settles his hands on Louis Tomlinson’s still heart and wills it to beat once more.

2) Invisible Strings | Explicit | 102,431 words

Louis has been struggling with his social anxiety for years now and is completely content with not leaving the house and having no social contacts. It gives him peace and safety. But when his new delivery guy, Harry, wants to get to know him Louis just can’t resist. Together, they find new, creative ways to communicate despite his anxiety. Soon their connection deepens and Louis doesn’t want his protected life anymore and instead tries to fight his social anxiety for the first time in years. But how can you change what became your personality over the years? And how can you feel safe again in a world that showed you exactly how dangerous it is outside? A story about finding your inner strength, healing and love that fights all odds.

3) Nothing Worsens, Nothing Grows | Mature | 102,505 words

Another roadtrip au featuring Harry as the misunderstood hipster, Louis as the bitter psych major, Liam as the one with the secret boyfriend, and Niall as the one who just wants everyone to be happy.

4) Halfway Home | Mature | 103,158 words

Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson were improbable childhood friends, much to Harry’s dismay. They were thrown together each summer when Harry was forced to visit Louis’ grandfathers’ ranch in Black Hills, South Dakota. With each passing year, their friendship blossomed into something more. When trail rides turned to stolen kisses, and tragedies turned to confessions until they could no longer deny the inevitable draw they felt for one another. Though life and their future plans soon set them on different paths. Ten years later, Louis is the proud owner of Halfway Home Wildlife Refuge. Harry returns to the ranch to escape the perils of his past in London, and though their memories still haunt Louis, he won’t let that deter him from his goals. However, someone has been keeping a close eye on the refuge, and possibly Louis specifically, and Harry’s return may have unleashed more than just old passions. There’s a hunter lurking in the Hills, someone who’s decided they’ve bided their time long enough.

5) If I Cannot Bend Heaven, I’ll Rise Hell| Explicit | 109,110 words

It blooms: In 1807, a boy falls for the wrong monster. It eats: In 1969, omegas began to disappear as rumors of the rising of a cannibalistic cult spread like wildfire. It grins: Now, one of the most powerful vampires of the West sits down for an interview to reveal all his sins. “Exodus 7:14-11:10, right before he sent the plagues, he said to Moses; ‘By this you will know that I am the Lord.’.” The vampire said with the ghost of a smile, small, almost intimate. “How can you annihilate something that you cannot touch, something you cannot see? How can you fight against a hungry God?“

6) Darling | Mature | 110,147 words

“Why do you call him darling?” I looked at Liam and felt my features soften. “Because he’s a darling. He’s absolutely the most precious thing I’ve ever seen. He’s a darling boy and I just want all of him and only him.”

7) The Healing Song | Mature | 111,851 words

Louis was carrying the large stuffed elephant like it was a baby, it’s trunk hanging over his shoulder and down his back and it’s front legs were resting around his neck, like it was hugging him. Said elephant was a present from Louis’ close friend Steve, who had thought Louis needed something to hug on bad days and had gifted him with a stuffed elephant the size of a one year old. Steve had been right. Some days Louis did need something to hug, and this elephant was as good as anything. Louis was having one of the rougher days. The harmonious state of the anxiety free life of a fearless Louis had ended the week after he met with Harry. It ended as abruptly as it had started. It was like pushing a button. Lights out. Almost as if the universe said “You’ve had your fun, crazy one, now go be sick” and slammed the door in his face.

8) (But) Baby We’re Everything  | Explicit | 117,618 words 

Harry and Louis broke up almost four years ago when their career paths took them different directions. Louis was hired at a primary school on the outskirts of London, and Harry went on to Cambridge to finish his degree and get his doctorate in education. But now, years later, Louis is a year two teacher at the same school he’s been employed at since the end of University, and Harry just so happens to be hired onto staff after finishing his postgraduate degree. Now that they’re back in each other’s lives, Louis has to face the secret Harry never discovered when he left years prior. Karma’s a bitch, isn’t it?

9) Our Endless Numbered Days | Explicit | 120,815 words

“Harry?” whispered Louis, his mouth dry, his nose pressing against the other’s warm skin. “Mh?” Harry’s humming was gentle, his fingers lightly caressing the younger boy’s arm, his chest steadily rising and falling beneath Louis’ cheek. A couple of seconds passed, and Louis looked up at him in the darkness of the cave, barely able to make out the expression on his face. When he tried to inhale deeply, his breath hitched. He struggled to find the words to tell Harry what he was thinking about. Another couple of seconds passed, and Louis listened to the reassuring beating of the prince’s heart beneath his cheek. He couldn’t. “Nothing,” he whispered, his voice weak. I think you’re half of my soul.

10) Streetlights In The Dark Blue | Mature | 120,867 words

Louis Tomlinson is an investigative journalist. He’s spent the better part of his life researching the psyches of serial killers, and publishing articles to provide a deeper understanding into their methodologies. His pen-name, Orion, is well known around the globe. An alter-ego that keeps his pockets lined, and his identity private. That is, until a letter arrives at his home address. A letter containing a symbol. One dubbed by a serial killer who’d vanished three years prior. The postage stamp? Bainbridge Island. He’d spent so long peering into the darkness, it should be no surprise to discover that something had been looking back. The island presents a host of mysteries. It also houses a nosy witch, determined to break down his walls. And an FBI agent hellbent on shattering his carefully constructed world.

11) Three Men And A Baby | Explicit | 122,978 words

Note: There is a BH mention.

Louis’ life had been going along just fine. Until one morning when his entire world changes when he steps on a piece of lego belonging to a young boy who has randomly appeared in his flat. And with that boy comes his gorgeous father. His flatmate Zayn has some explaining to do but he’s definitely not complaining, instantly feeling connected to these new additions. Over the span of a year, life gets crazy, frustrating, surprising and most importantly…filled with love.

12) Siren Calls Me Home | Explicit | 133,762 words

Harry’s father had warned him. King Edward of Erendor had whispered his suspicions that Prince Louis of Blackmont was descended from the sirens, monsters from cautionary tales Harry was told as a child. A cruel, cold-hearted, and vicious nature wreathed in a breathtaking exterior, with coy smirks and slow blinks used to bend everyone to his will. His beauty was as well known as his cunning, his greed, and his ruthless grab for power. Time only proved the rumors to be true, and Harry made sure to keep his distance from the prince, never once speaking to him, and doing his best not to even meet his eye. Unfortunately, the ghosts of whispered warnings are powerless when one is up against the very tangible experience of being in Prince Louis’ presence.

13) The Compulsion to Find Love | Teen & Up | 140,138 words

The most prestigious English third-level institution, Candling University, accepts omega students for the first time and Louis Tomlinson applies with bright eyes and brighter ambitions. There he encounters personal obstacles, traditional mindsets and a beautiful boy who inverts every prejudice Louis has ever known.

14) Prisoner | Explicit | 140,445 words

When Louis Tomlinson heard the jury’s verdict, the world crumbled before his glassy blue eyes. Sentenced to five years in prison for a medical malpractice he did not commit, he was transferred to a maximum security prison. His days were numbered, he knew. Harry Styles, his cellmate and the monarch of the prison. Sadist like no other. The fumes coming out of his mouth were pure, bitter, flaming poison. Louis swallowed, certain it would be the last time he would ever do so. His body convulsed and his legs felt tremulous. He could have peed himself from the fear. “When I asked for a cellmate to have fun with, I didn’t imagine they’d bring me a little lamb.” If God had created Adam, the devil had created Harry.

15) No Hello Just Goodbye | Mature | 142,502 words

Louis had 9 months to try and convince himself out of it, but he knew from the very moment he saw the dreaded 2 lines that he couldn’t raise the baby. Not when the conception took place against his own will. Adoption was the only answer. He had no problems handing over his child nor did he endure any sort of regret. Or did he? 4 years after giving birth Louis sets out to search for his baby but what he finds instead is something he totally didn’t expect…… Love.

16) Where I Burn To Be | Explicit | 143,346 words

There were very few people who managed to get under Louis’ skin as effortlessly as Harry had, and even fewer who had done it in only a day and a half. It was quite an accomplishment, really. They’d only interacted a handful of times and yet Louis had the insatiable desire to slam the locker into that frustratingly well-defined face that never seemed to hold any expressions other than contempt and arrogance. “That’s right. I do own the skies. And you wanna know why?” he sneered. Without his boots on, Louis was a fair bit shorter than Harry, his eyes pretty much level with Harry’s chin and his socked toes bumping into the boots of the other man, close enough that Louis could make out the tiny scar on Harry’s brow and the individual shades of emerald in his irises. He was handsome, but that only made Louis hate him more. Heart thumping heavily against his sternum and his hands balled into fists, Louis lifted his chin defiantly and plastered a coldhearted smirk across his lips. “Because I’m the best goddamn pilot here.”

17) Your Eyes Are Tired But Keep Them Open Cause You Wouldn’t Wanna Miss A Thing | Explicit | 144,281 words

Louis is an omega in an abusive relationship everyone forced him into; he’s miserable until he meets his favorite student’s uncle, Harry, a gentle alpha with a big heart.

18) Give Me A Way To Breathe (If You Can) | Explicit | 152,100 words

“By decree of the Five Tribes of England, all omegas aged eighteen (18) to twenty-five (25) shall be bred annually at the age of eighteen warranted that they have had one (1) fertile heat. During these years, all omegas must remain unmated and fertile in time for their scheduled breeding session. Alphas between the age of sixteen (16) and thirty (30) will be selected based on physical strengths and medically exceptional sperm quality to breed the omegas. All viable children will be given to selected families. No parental rights will be given to the alpha whose sperm is donated or the omega who bears them. Those who do not serve their tribe by this law will face exile.” Louis’ eyes scanned the breeding letter. Written in a beautiful, careful cursive was the name of the alpha who would impregnate him, and it couldn’t have been more pretentious: Harry Styles.

19) Life And Love Finds A Way | Explicit | 165,244 words

Post-apocalyptic world after a plague had taken out more than half of the world’s population. In the midst of the pandemonium caused by so many people passing away, the population that was left had turned greedy and started attacking each other for food and resources now that there weren’t enough people to farm or work essential jobs. After being shot by a looter while he was on patrol, Harry had decided to leave the police department and move away to find somewhere remote to live. What he didn’t expect was for an omega to weasel his way into Harry’s heart.

20) Inevitable | Mature | 185,917 words

AU where Louis and Harry used to be more than friends, but everything had to change the day Harry introduces Louis to his new girlfriend.

21) I Thought We Were Forever | Mature | 235,556 words

“I need time alone from you.” Louis’ heart skipped a beat. That he had not seen coming. “From me?” his voice shook. Harry nodded, another tear rolling down his cheek. “I don’t understand, H.” “It’s-” “You want to go on holidays on your own or something?” frowned Louis, so very confused. A long silence settled. “Look, there’s no easy way to say this.” murmured Harry and he looked so in pain. “I like someone else. Like Like like. At least I think I do. I’m not sure. That’s why I need time alone.”

22) Boss Bitch | Explicit | 386,901 words

Harry had always wanted to work for this successful mafia; the mafia that everyone knew, everyone feared. Led by none other than the pahntom “L'eue Courante”, whom everyone knew existed, but had no other clues who this person could be. The only thing known was a high heel the phantom once left. So this person had to be woman, Harry assumend. And man, was he wrong.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[planetaryaether]

I swear I have the capacity to be normal about things. with that being said I have many thoughtsTM about today's JF2 episode (#29).

Duncan volunteering to send his black lotus to Rythian as well is something that can be so personal. To over analyze it, although he says it is in case "the first one gets lost" they have no reason to think that items wouldn't get to their destined locations, so the choice reads much more as a gesture of friendship. After the events of Flux Buddies (no spoilers) Duncan has had to learn to face the consequences of his own actions in a way that he simply had not during Blackrock - which at the end of the day was the thing that drove a wedge between him and Rythian.

By not being able to accept that his actions led to genuine harm (intended or not) to those he called his friends signaled to Rythian that he cannot trust others/especially Duncan again. This perceived threat of future betrayal combined with Rythian thinking that Zoey had joined forces with Duncan and the nuke reveal all served to retraumatize Rythian, placing a wedge in their relationship that has not been able to be addressed due to the end of Season 2 and Rythian deciding to give up on any relationship (friend or enemy) with Duncan ('the opposite of love is not hatred, it is indifference' etc etc).

So Rythian choosing to send this task to the JF2 crew, almost certainly knowing that Duncan is among them, shows that Rythian has been able to grow since we have last seen him. He has been able to finally process, at least to a degree, what he has been through and perhaps is able to understand why Duncan acted the way that he did - that he never meant to cause harm but was terrified for his own safety both in the old and tekket worlds.

Duncan being the one, in episode 28, to want to listen to the message (as well as including the purple flag 'for Rythian') shows how much he has also changed. That he also understands, at least to a degree, where Rythian was coming from and why he did what he did AND that he doesn't hold that against him. All of this happening independently from each other until now. Rythian made the first move at reconciliation with entrusting Duncan (and the others of course) with a task that was important to him (but at the same time it is a task with a low level of responsibility so that if Duncan did not want to accept this peace offering of sorts, no harm would come to Rythian/Zoey). And Duncan, by sending his black lotus after barry has already sent one, is a clear acceptance of that gesture. More than that, it is returning a peace offering of his own. (and to REALLY over analyze, sending flowers is a sign of an apology with black/dark lotus flowers in multiple cultures representing rebirth).

Even if we never get anything else Blackrock related (which I am of course not counting on getting anything more), this serves as a wonderful epilogue to their dynamic, especially with some of the main themes of Blackrock being about the cycle of violence and the question of 'can you heal from your traumas before they destroy what you care about most?' (mostly focusing on platonic/romantic relationships) with the answer being that 'your actions will change the relationship from what it otherwise would have been, but if and only if both parties want to heal the relationship and put in the necessary time and effort to do so, then the relationship can survive'. And here we are getting a sign that both of them are willing to do something to salvage their friendship. It will never be what it was in the Old World, but the friendship is not gone, it just has a new starting point.

[lovenonymously]

the importance of well-written stories

watching Lovely Runner was like watching 4 K-dramas at once lol

well-written stories are so rare, you only understand that when you watch something exceptional. something unique. a once in a lifetime experience of watching it for the very first time.

this show gave me so many feelings. in truth, it was an experience. I'm glad I put aside my fear of sad endings and watched as it aired. for once, I took the leap and discovered that's exactly what this drama wanted me to learn.

usually, after finishing really good K-dramas or stories in general, I hit a slump where I cannot function. everything feels dull and boring. a different kind of grief at realising this was just fictional.

but not this time.

all I feel is light and happy. like I'm floating. I want to carry this feeling and runaway. I want to remember how this felt and hold onto it when I get down or get bad days.

lifetimes lived.

Sol was sunlight. bright and unwavering and unforgettable. 💛

living vicariously through Im Sol, from feeling her pain in the beginning to her sunny hope that Sun Jae gave her. all her struggles as she jumped through various lifetimes, loved and lived and loved again. crying with her, laughing with her, rooting for her despite all odds. it was a journey.

beyond her love for Sun Jae, Sol's choices changed her family's life too. they were less hurt and much happier in the future she helped them create. even giving her grandmother a chance to return to the past and relive her fondest memories.

Sun Jae was midnight rain. the comfort of a sudden shower in the middle of summer. 💙

apart from being a complete loser in love, Sun Jae was in love with Sol for a total accumulated time of 45 years.

yep. my reaction exactly ^

I won't lie, when they pulled the "he fell first" trope in Episode 2, I was wary. one, because if the writers were willing to pull such a twist in just the second episode, then who knew what else was in store for us? my guess was pretty spot on, the twists that followed had me gasping and yelling out loud. this show was unpredictable from beginning to end.

and two, because I was worried that Sun Jae's character might get reduced to just him being in love with Im Sol.

in that case, I'm glad to say,

I was completely wrong.

despite Sun Jae's love for Im Sol, he had a grounded personality of his own. whether it was OG Sun Jae (ep 1), who lived in the guilt of what happened to the girl he loved, or Timeline 3 Sun Jae (ep 15), who never fell in love at all, he was positive, kind, decisive and striving to live.

and i love that about him.

for two characters whose stories are so deeply interwoven together, having shaped aspects of each other's lives, Sol and Sun Jae displayed their unique traits exceptionally well as individuals.

I cannot emphasize how happy this makes me. Sun Jae is his own person, Sol is her own person, and they are destined to be together. beyond their desperation for each other's safety and well-being, Sol and Sun Jae are genuinely good people who deserved to be together. even fate and time bent to their will to make it happen.

"As you wait for the rain to stop, live another day."

when a story makes you feel happy, hold onto that feeling. bottle it up. write it down. come back to it on the days the world feels against you and when the times feel too bleak.

fictional though it is, for what it's worth, at least the story exists. it means there are still people out there writing and bringing such stories to life. it means artists and creators like you and I haven't yet forgotten what it's supposed to be like to live. it means there are still people who connect to such stories and learn good things from it.

and as you wait for more such great stories, live another day. perhaps, if you get bored, write the story you want to read.

in the end, it's quite simple.

as for me, I'll be here. crying, laughing, screaming, giggling and kicking my feet while being up to my eyes in second-hand embarrassment (because goodness, these two idiots are COMPLETE LOSERS IN LOVE) throughout these past 8 weeks was the highlight of my year ✨ I will always remember that I watched a beautiful modern fairytale romance in the summer of '24 that reminded me that I was young and full of love to give.

good stories truly do make a difference 🤍

[woozisguitar]

hiii! happy 200 followers!!!💓 i just wanted to drop by and say your latest prompts have been so good and spot on, super loved them!!

could i maybe request something inspired by taylor swift sunbaenim’s peace for idol!hoshi x non-idol!fem reader? if it doesn’t work them something a lil angsty with that pairing would be just fine as well! 🥹 thank you!!

thank you!!!! sorry this took a while 😭 also omg I love how perfectly peace suits hoshi I was so excited to write this! hope you like it <33

requests for 200 celebration post: open

our coming-of-age has come and gone suddenly the summer, it's clear i never had the courage of my convictions as long as danger is near

soonyoung knew what he was doing when he asked you out. well, at least he liked to believe he did. not one to care about the public backlash, he was one of the few who liked to live openly and talk about the people he loved. he knew there were a lot of negatives in this job; he also knew he wouldn’t trade it for anything. that was until he met you. you, who swept him off his feet like a hurricane and left him stranded in the middle of nowhere. someone he found himself looking for in every person he encountered. someone he was willing to fight against the world for. someone he never thought in a million years would say yes when he asked you out.

and it's just around the corner, darling 'cause it lives in me no, i could never give you peace

soonyoung knew no matter what he did to shield you, his life would catch up quickly. he knew all the possible dangers the dates held. he knew all the possible dangers you could have to face because of him: the stalking, the hating, all of it. he knew dating him came with this life, and for an outsider, it would never be easy. the long tours, the sneaking out— all of it. he knew from the start he could never give you peace.

but i'm a fire, and i'll keep your brittle heart warm if your cascade ocean wave blues come

still, a small, selfish part of him wanted you all for himself. he let himself indulge in the love you provided and hoped that his love for you was fierce enough to weather your stormiest days.

all these people think love's for show but i would die for you in secret the devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me would it be enough if i could never give you peace?

when the news of this affair broke, the first response was to believe that this was fake. a pr stunt. people questioned your love, the past, the present, the potential future. everyone felt the need to give their opinions, to advise him, to tell him what to do and what not to do. but no one ever asked him what he thought, nor what he felt for you. because if they did, he would have only one answer. “i would die for you in secret,” he told you on nights when your insecurities got the best of you and your anxiety made you fraught. he knew the details, the facts, the whole reality and retaliation it would come with, scared you to death. you were worried this was going to cost him his career, his future. and soonyoung was scared too, but what terrified him more was the idea of leaving you. of leaving this: the romance, the kisses, the touches, the peace. would it be enough if i could never give you peace? he asked himself every time he saw you smile in the safety of your home.

your integrity makes me seem small you paint dreamscapes on the wall i talk shit with my friends it's like i'm wasting your honor

a week after the news broke, you got to work. you asked soonyoung to let you talk to the management about posting a few videos. most of these were videos of soonyoung talking about how he loved his fans more than anything and asked them if they would release a statement. one where you’d be more than happy to answer any questions. he knew it wouldn’t fare well—these people had certain expectations from their idols, idols who prioritize them over their personal life. but still, your hope, your absolute sheer positivity when you said, "maybe we can change their mind," made him love you more. on a certain binge-drinking night with his members shit-talking about the industry norms, he thought of you and how he would never be half as brave as he is now if it wasn’t for you.

and you know that i'd swing with you for the fences sit with you in the trenches give you my wild, give you a child

soonyoung vowed that he would do everything possible to protect you if this went south. hell, he was even prepared to leave his career and move countries if it meant keeping you safe. he was going to have your back for the rest of your life the second you decided you were never leaving him. he dreamt of you one night: you, him, and a faint silhouette of a child running around a white picket fence house. and he wasn’t willing to give up on that dream just yet.

give you the silence that only comes when two people understand each other family that i chose, now that i see your brother as my brother is it enough? but there's robbers to the east, clowns to the west i'd give you my sunshine, give you my best but the rain is always gonna come if you're standing with me

the day the videos were released, soonyoung asked your family and his to come over. he figured if things went south, it would be better to be surrounded by people who loved them rather than facing it alone. and soonyoung will forever thank the gods who decided to shine the suns of you because the people were more than moved by the videos. he knew they wouldn’t accept this right off the bat, but it was a start. soonyoung was more than happy with a start. he knew this wasn’t the first and would definitely not be the last storm you’d have to weather together. he knew that the rain would always drench you as long as you were with him.

would it be enough if i could never give you peace? would it be enough if i could never give you peace?

soonyoung knew he could never give you peace. and for the first time, he debated that it’s okay if he couldn’t. maybe the peace he so desperately chased for the two of you would always be the moment in between your chaotic life where you’d look at each other and feel nothing but bliss.

and for now, that would be enough.

[mogitz]

Don't think about Lucien Vanserra witnessing the unspeakable: his world crumbling as the love of his life is ripped away from him and murdered right before his eyes. Don't picture his brothers holding him back, making him watch it all - every excruciating detail - as he's powerless to stop it.

Forget the image of him, broken and bleeding, dragging himself to the sanctuary of the Spring Court boundary, barely making it over the line before his knees give out beneath him. Don’t think about the emptiness that surely follows, nor the weight of his grief so heavy it's a wonder he could even stand to make it to safety in the first place. Don’t think about all the times on his journey he just wanted to give up altogether, but pushed on so that Jesminda’s death was not in vain.

Don't think about him having to turn against two of his own brothers, killing them in a twisted act of vengeance that feels nothing like the justice he sought. Resist the thought of him taking weeks, months, (years??) to mourn in solitude because Tamlin, though knowing loss to this magnitude as well, could not possibly navigate the depths of Lucien's grief. Thus, Lucien was left to weather his storm of sorrow and loss the same way Tamlin had weathered his own - alone - hiding away from a world that had taken everything from him

Don’t picture him upon the dawn-kissed roof of the Spring manor, where the dance of pinks and oranges and blues in the sky only seems to deepen his yearning for an Autumn forever lost to him. And don’t think about how in the Spring Court he has found some kind of solace... but never peace. How despite finding a home there, his soul remains restless, wandering, always running from the shadows of his past. Running from his future. Running from himself.

And please don’t think about how Lucien's gratefulness to Tamlin for giving him something close to a family results in a loyalty so profound that he'd walk into hell for him. Which he does - right into Amarantha’s clutches - only to come back less than whole, another piece of him stolen away.

That beauty he was known for? Gone.

Just like everything else.

Don’t imagine Lucien slowly piecing himself back together - inch by painstaking inch. Forget about the way he masters the art of sarcasm and humor, how he wields his wit like a shield to keep others at bay, to convince them, and maybe himself, that he's not hurting as much as he is. That beneath the quips and the easy smiles lies a well of pain and self-doubt so deep it's become part of who he is. That this levity he brings into every room is, in truth, the heaviest thing he carries.

And hey. Don't think about Lucien giving up any hope of being wanted, of being loved again. That his chance at having a mate, a true partner, was as dead as his former lover.

Or how, in a twist that must have amused fate itself, the Cauldron surprises him with a mate in Elain Archeron: his undeniable yet unwilling counterpart. How from nowhere, a bond snaps into place, redefining his destiny and sealing a connection that he'd long since given up on.

And don't think about how when Lucien's eyes meet Elain’s, somewhere beneath all the layers of loss and hurt and betrayal….  a spark of hope dares to ignite once more.

And then absolutely don't let your thoughts wander to his heart being trampled on, again, when he realizes that Elain - like everyone else - doesn’t want him. But at this point he’s not even surprised. It’s just another sharp sting in a lifetime's collection of disappointments and cruel irony. Don't dwell on how he's gotten so used to the taste of rejection and the feeling of being unworthy that he doesn't even think about trying to change her mind about him. Because, what's the point, right? Why bother when history has shown him, time and time again, that even just hoping seems to lead him to more pain?

Don’t think about how despite this, he still seeks her out just enough to show he’s willing to give it a shot if she is. How against his every instinct to protect himself, he keeps himself open to the slightest possibility of her, knowing it just leaves the door open to be hurt. And don't think about how every time Elain shies away from him, every time she looks through him or chooses to keep her distance, it just reinforces  his walls, makes him retreat a little more behind his carefully constructed façade. Because facing that rejection head-on, acknowledging it, would mean admitting to himself that he's still holding onto a sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, she could see past the surface. That she could want him, not despite of all he's been through, but because of it. That she could be the one to see him, really see him, and not turn away.

So, yeah, don’t go there. It's easier to laugh it off, to pretend it doesn't matter, than to face the possibility of another door closing in his face. Easier to keep up the act, to be the Lucien everyone expects - charming, sarcastic, unbothered - than to risk showing just how much Elain's avoidance cuts him to the core.

But don’t think about it. 

Because acknowledging that Lucien's humor and charm are just his way of coping? That means seeing the depth of his loneliness, the real Lucien who's been hiding in plain sight, waiting for someone to care enough to look closer. And understanding that? It's realizing that beneath the façade, Lucien's just waiting for someone to prove him wrong, to show him he's worth the risk, worth the love he's convinced himself he doesn't deserve.

And Elain, with her quiet strength and her own hidden depths, might just be the one to see the real Lucien. To challenge the walls he's built around himself, if only he could believe, one more time, that he's worthy of being chosen, of being loved.

But perhaps Mor is right - they aren’t ready. And Lucien’s not sure he’s ready to gamble his heart on hope again. Not yet, anyway.

So, really, don’t think about it—unless you’re ready to root for them, to believe in the kind of love that could be their light at the end of a very dark tunnel. Because Lucien and Elain? They could be something epic, a testament to the power of second chances and the strength of a love that comes when you least expect it but most need it. That their path isn’t just about two people finding love in an unfair world that has taken the things they both hold dear; it’s a journey of coming back to life after being lost in the dark for far too long.

So yeah, just don’t. It’s a lot.

[oshiawaseni]

The biggest obstacle when it comes to saving Shigaraki’s heart is Decay: If he so much as grabs someone’s hand… they’ll die. Which is a huge deal in a series that places so much emphasis on the act of a Hero holding a lost child's hand to reassure them that everything will be okay.

Shigaraki struggles with connecting to people because he’s never been able to perform even the most rudimentary of expressions for actually *connecting with other people* (such as a handshake)… it's a concept which has been shown to us time and time again in MHA. And if you are a subscriber of "AFO having given decay to Tenko" theory... this is probably the main reason as for why he gave him such a treacherous quirk that would never allow him to connect to another person.

No one has even hugged him since his mother died trying to… and she was his only family who cast aside her safety to give the love, comfort and reassurance that 5 year old Tenko needed back then.

So I think what's to come for Shigaraki is going to be about connecting with him in the way that’s been (impossible).

My theory is that Izuku could have a moment of reaching out to Shigaraki, just as Sailor Moon reached out with a hand for Sailor Galaxia to take… and in doing so, show Tomura his pure intentions to save him. I think this could be a main feature of the Izuku Midoriya Rising chapter!

This parallel works *really* well if Shigaraki is possessed by AFO at the time. The MC’s words and selflessness helping their enemy tap into the love which lives deep inside them. In Sailor Moon this dispersed the chaos in Galaxia… and in MHA it may tame AFO’s kosei/personality.

The full theory with videos can be read here!

When 407 came out, a LOT of us thought Izuku’s hand stood NO chance… even I was concerned! But I think this was actually foreshadowing a future chapter where Izuku reaches out to Shigaraki, knowing he’s risking everything to try reach into his humanity.

There’s also Yoichi’s words: “So why did you reach out to me that day, knowing full well of my ties to your enemy?” …Hori’s been cooking this theme of reaching a hand out to save those in need, no matter who they are. That everyone is a person with a human heart inside them.

So I think Shigaraki will reach out to grab onto Izuku’s outstretched hand, in a Sailor Moon-inspired moment of Tomura finally embracing the love in his heart… and this will free him of all his life’s built up pain.

One thing MHA teaches well is that pure love and compassion towards others, and the self-sacrifices made to help one’s community are the key to controlling one’s quirk. It’s the best expression of individuality in MHA. Kacchan had full mastery over his quirk by embracing love.

I think it’s enough for Shigaraki that Izuku is even *willing* to be decayed to reach into his humanity and show the compassion his mother once gave him when everything was falling apart around him. Izuku may even remind Shigaraki of Inko’s motherly warmth from the memories.

So Shigaraki will be able to control his quirk because his heart is cleansed, leaving only pure love inside. And so he won’t let Decay hurt Izuku when he grabs Izuku’s hand. Shigaraki’s soul could be truly saved by physically connecting to Izuku’s immense heart and kindness for others. No matter when or how it’s done, a handhold scene like this would be so beautiful!

MHA’s society may be incredibly broken and wrong… but the one right thing in the world is the connection between everyone’s hearts, all striving for a better future together. Their belief in hope and each other.

At the very end of her fight, Sailor Moon says that chaos "had gone into the hearts of everyone.” Because if everyone shares a little of the burden, it won’t all fall on one person’s shoulders. But, “It’s alright! The light of hope exists in their hearts also.” ✨❤️✨

[ecoterrorist-katara]

hi! curious as to what you think about the comparison of aang giving up cosmic energy for katara and percy rejecting immortality for annabeth? i genuinely do not think they are the same because percabeth knew each other for years and gradually evolved from friends to lovers, in which their feelings were mutual. most importantly, him rejecting immortality did not have any negative bearing on the future of the world. as for aang, he gave up the avatar state, which he needed to save the world/defeat ozai. he risked it because of his obsession with katara, who at the time did not reciprocate his feelings at all.

hi! I agree that Percy rejecting immortality comes across as very romantic because, well, he already saved the world! Plus he was able to leverage his rejection of immortality to help people like him. That said, while I don't find the cosmic energy arc in ATLA romantic, I can't find it in myself to blame Aang in-universe. It's one of those "damn this kid is 12, he's lost everything, and I can't believe he has to make these decisions" moments of the show that made me feel super bad for him, and even if I disagree with his choice I understand why he made it.

However! I do have a HUGE problem with the arc, and it lies entirely with how the writers made Katara a damsel. They never gave Aang the opportunity to see Katara as another hero, like him.

Katara is not a Chosen One like Aang, but she still chose to be a hero. In episode 1, Katara chooses to stand up for Aang against her community. A few episodes later, she gets herself tossed into prison to free Haru and earthbenders. She demonstrates again and again that she's not worried about her own safety, as long as she's doing the right thing and protecting others.

There's a bit of dramatic irony in Crossroads of Destiny where Aang has this vision of Katara struggling in chains and looking every inch the damsel...meanwhile we the audience know that Katara is alive and well and yelling at Zuko. Then Aang goes off to save her, only for her to save him instead. He has that moment of “I’m sorry Katara” where he tries to access the Avatar State, implying that he’s letting her go, as if this is a decision about him — as if the decision to save Katara was about Aang’s attachment to her, rather than their shared values.

Even after the Ba Sing Se scare, it never seemed to occur to Aang to ask Katara what she would have wanted, and I assume this is because it never crossed the writers' minds that Katara is anything but a character development object for Aang when it comes to their romance. Would Katara be willing to sacrifice her own safety so that Aang can defeat Ozai? Uh, yes, least of all because she's scrappy and she would've figured something out to save herself (recall this was neither the first nor the last time Katara ended up in prison — is Katara the only ATLA character who’s thrown in jail every season? I think so lmao). But even if she wants Aang to let the world burn and prioritize her over his duties as the Avatar, the point is that she deserves a say.

Katara will presumably one day need to choose between love and duty. These are supposed to be shared burdens when two heroes love each other. Sokka and Suki, a secondary ship, got a whole arc where Sokka learns he doesn't have to save Suki because she has agency and she also wants to save him! But what did Ka/taang get? Nothing of the kind. It’s not clear if Katara even knows that Aang was about to give up the Avatar State for her, because they never talk about it!

I think other people have talked at length about how in ATLA, Katara is her own character and her own person with her own journey...except when she’s written as Aang’s love interest. The cosmic energy/Avatar State fiasco is another example of that.

[diabolichare]

(3/?)

A temporary truce is made to deal with whatever is going on, Tfe Starscream and the Terrans decide to follow the Autobots back to the Ark.

"You are a Decepticon! Are you going to betray me and go with those weaklings!?"

"Those "weaklings" also didn't try to harm I and mine."

"..."

On the way back, Tfe Starscream opened a private comm line and told the Terrans to play along with him, don't tell anyone about the Emberstone and the future, the Decepticons and Autobots here are still in a war it would be a risk to everyone's safety. The kids agree, sticking close to the seeker. Jawbreaker - still terrified from the encounter with G1 Megatron - clasps his hand with Tfe Starscream's, the seeker lets him and even squeezes gently back. This is witnessed by the Autobots walking with them and wide optics and gestures are exchanged behind the group, the comm line between the Autobots is even worse.

Some bots try to make a conversation with them, the kids look to Tfe Starscream who gives them a side glance but nods. Hashtag has a grand time introducing herself to everyone, the rest of the Terrans follow her lead but still stay close to Tfe Starscream. The seeker's optics watched them interact, wings still hiking up in alert.

Everyone reaches the Ark and is ushered into the medbay. The group leaves some behind to guard Ratchet + the group while the rest when to debrief. Tfe Starscream wants the kids to get checked first but they bully him into getting checked instead, he did fought Megatron. Now that they're safe the kids relax and start to talk more with Jazz (who was subtly interrogating them in a friendly way). Tfe Starscream knows but he lets it be, only interjecting when the Terrans nearly slip up and say something not needed. Ratchet is watching the entire interaction while repairing him, taking note of how strangely protective the seeker is of these sparklings - the crazy theories about the sparklings being his are getting more convincing.

The Autobot High Command wants to talk to them, but Tfe Starscream tells them no which makes some of the bots annoyed. But he countered that the four of them got dumped in the middle of nowhere, in a completely different world and the sparklings nearly got kidnapped by Megatron plus Tfe Starscream himself just fought the silver mech. They are tired, anxious, and need rest. The seeker is willing to reenact what happened in the fight to anyone who stopped them.

OP agreed, backed by Ratchet, the rest of the Command grumbled but assigned the group a temporary room to stay. Tfe Starscream checks the entire room for bugs, after he's done he tells the Terrans to sleep - he will keep watch. Nightshade still has some questions about where are they and what's going on, Hashtag and Jawbreaker want to know too (also the people they know look so different - heck Bumblebee is their size!). So Tfe Starscream tells them, he has a theory that the device Nightshade made works but it transported them into the past, a version of the past since Starscream would remember if he ever saw a look-alike of himself fighting Megatron. The kids quiet down, then Jawbreaker said he never thought he would ever see Megatron being so aggressive, all of his siblings have heard about war stories from the people they know but to see it… That scared him a lot. Tfe Starscream pats his head and says don't worry he's still here to protect the Terrans. The group got a nice moment together.

Back in the Autobot meeting room, Jazz is updating everyone on what he got from their little guests so far + Ratchet's parts about Tfe Starscream.

"He's not a Starscream clone that's for sure, and still an active Decepticon despite the blue optics. His frame also has some firewalls and antivirus for things I know haven't got the cure for yet. Not to mention the screaming thing you told me about, there's no upgrade in his frame for that. It could be an outlier ability."

"What about those sparklings?"

"Didn't get a chance to scan them with Starscream looking like he's one blink away from ripping me apart. They look healthy from what I can see. His carrier protocol is active by the way, so either Starscream fragged multiple mechs or their sire has one weird family tree because Nightshade and Jawbreaker are Beastformers with different models. Or they're all adopted." The room exploded into chaos.

"Oh yeh, apparently they got more siblings back at home," everyone looks at Jazz "There's like seven of them in total." Someone choked in the back.

"They knows Bumblebee too, Hashtag asked about him a lot. They also familar with OP and Prowler. But she doesn't seems to recognize most of us..." The meeting goes on but the question stay in everyone's head: What has Starscream been doing in the future to get seven sparklings?!?

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