#i FEED of conflict (with few exceptions)

[fadewalking]

Man I hate playing peacekeeper in my friend group

[catchastarorten]

—100 loaves of bread.

Pairing: the salesman/recruiter x bakeryowner!fem!reader

Summary: it started with a few visits from him buying 100 loaves of bread each time from your little bakery, but overtime the two of you started to get familiar, little did you know about his ‘work’ and how he should’ve given the card to you but didn't...

Content: fluff, aggressive stomping on bread, him having a soft spot for you, trying to convince himself that he doesn’t care about you (it doesn’t work lol), a bit of reader's backstory, self-conflict and a bit of change of heart from him, English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, not proofread, sorry!

Word count: ~ 2.1k

You were wiping down the counter when the familiar chime of the bell above the door jingled. It was late in the afternoon, and the bakery was quiet, except for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the faint scent of freshly baked bread and sugar lingering in the air. You glanced up, already knowing who it was. He was here again—the man with the sharp suit and the briefcase who bought bread in quantities that always left you baffled.

“Afternoon,” you said, watching as he walked in with the same calm, measured way as always. He almost looked too friendly for someone who carried himself so formally.

“Afternoon,” he replied, stepping up to the counter and resting his briefcase at his feet. “I’ll need the usual. A hundred loaves.”

A hundred loaves of bread. It was such a ridiculous request, and yet, he never failed to make it.

You’d asked him once, early on, what on earth he did with all that bread. Selling it somewhere else for a profit? Feeding a small army? Storing up for an apocalypse? He had only smiled at you then, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and said, “Something like that.”

It had been weeks since his first visit, and by now, the routine was familiar. You’d load loaf after loaf into paper bags while he stood patiently, sometimes asking about your day, sometimes quietly observing the modest little bakery. Today, though, you felt compelled to ask again.

“Are you sure you want all of it?” you asked, sliding the first bag across the counter. “That’s… a lot of bread.”

He smiled faintly, reaching for the bag and setting it beside him. “You ask me that every time.”

“Well, it’s not everyday someone comes in and buys out half my stock,” you said, tilting your head. “It makes me curious.”

His expression softened, and for a moment, he seemed like he might answer—really answer. But then he only shrugged slightly, reaching into his pocket for his wallet. “Let’s just say it goes to good use.”

You frowned, unsatisfied but unwilling to press further. He always paid in cash, crisp bills that he counted out with precision. You noticed, as you often did, that he never left without dropping a generous tip into the glass jar by the register. He offered you a warm look as he slipped a few bills into the tip jar again.

“Keep up the good work,” he said. “Your bread’s the best in the city.”

You weren’t sure whether to be flattered or suspicious. He seemed genuine, but there was something about him—something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

Still, it wasn’t your place to pry. You handed him the last of the bags, and he left with the same polite nod as always.

The next time he came in, it wasn’t for a hundred loaves of bread.

You were behind the counter again, rearranging a tray of pastries, when you heard the door chime. Glancing up, you saw him standing there, his briefcase nowhere in sight.

“Not the usual today?” you asked, half-teasing.

He smiled slightly, stepping up to the counter. “Not today. I was thinking I’d try something different.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

He scanned the display case, his eyes lingering on a slice of strawberry shortcake near the center. “That,” he said, pointing.

You wrapped up the slice for him, and when you handed it over, he didn’t leave right away. Instead, he took a seat at one of the small tables by the window—a seat no one ever seemed to take—and unwrapped the cake with a kind of deliberate care. You watched, unable to help yourself, as he took a bite.

“It’s good,” he mumbled, almost to himself. “Really good.”

A flicker of amusement crossed your face as you watched him eat. He wasn’t as neat as you’d expected—a bit of whipped cream ended up on the corner of his mouth, and he licked it away absentmindedly, his gaze drifting to the shelves of decorative knick-knacks you’d lined the walls with.

“I never really noticed these before,” he said, gesturing toward a small ceramic cat perched on one of the shelves. “Did you make them?”

You shook your head. “No, those were my parents’. They used to run this place before me. They had a thing for collecting stuff like that.”

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “It’s nice. Feels… homey.”

You didn’t know why, but his words left you oddly self-conscious. The bakery had always been your parents’ dream, not yours, and while you’d taken it over out of necessity, you’d never thought much about how it felt to anyone else. But hearing him say it was homey made you feel a faint sense of pride.

“Thanks,” you said softly.

He stayed longer than usual that day, finishing his cake and ordering a coffee to go with it.

You found yourself talking to him more than you normally would with a customer. He asked about the bakery, about your favorite thing to bake, about whether you’d ever considered expanding. You didn’t ask about him—not directly—but you couldn’t help but wonder what kind of man he was.

By the time he left, it was dark outside, and the bakery was empty except for you. As you locked up for the night, you found yourself thinking about his smile, the way it lingered even after he was gone.

One day, as he was paying for a loaf of sourdough, he looked at you, his head tilting slightly. “Do you ever think about getting out of here?” he asked.

You blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… this place is great, but don’t you ever wonder what else is out there?”

You hesitated. It wasn’t that you hadn’t thought about it—leaving, starting fresh somewhere new—but the bakery was all you’d ever known. It was safe, familiar. And after your parents passed, it felt like the only thing that tethered you to them.

“Sometimes,” you admitted. “But I don’t know. This place… it’s home.”

He nodded, his expression unreadable.

For a moment, there was a silence between you. Then he smiled again, that warm, almost disarming smile, and slid an extra bill across the counter. “For the tip jar,” he said.

You watched as he walked out the door, his briefcase in hand, and wondered—for the hundredth time—what kind of life he led.

...

The bell above the bakery door chimed familiarly.

He stepped inside, brushing imaginary dust off his jacket, his polished demeanor there as always. But inside, his stomach churned. He had made a decision today—a decision that, for once, made him feel something like guilt.

He scanned the shop. You were at the counter, hands dusted with flour as you arranged freshly baked rolls on a tray. The soft glow of the afternoon light spilling through the window caught on your hair, and the faintest smile tugged at your lips when you saw him. That smile… It was a problem.

“Afternoon,” you said, just as you always did. Your voice was warm, even though he could see the slight tiredness beneath it. That smile didn’t reach your eyes as much these days, but you still tried, didn’t you?

He nodded, keeping his face neutral. “Afternoon.”

You weren’t supposed to matter to him. That was the rule. He had a job to do, a system to uphold, and people like you—drowning in debt—were just part of the equation. It shouldn't have mattered how good-hearted you were, how hardworking you were.

You weren’t special... at least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

He first started coming to your bakery for convenience, but as time passed, the lines started to blur. The bread looked good, better than most places in this part of the city, and you didn’t ask too many questions.

The loaves weren’t for eating, of course. They were for a little ‘social experiment’.

“Bread or lottery?” That’s what he’d ask them—the desperate, homeless souls he scouted in the park. It was always the same. He’d hold out a loaf in one hand, a lottery scratcher in the other. The bread could fill their stomachs. But the lottery ticket? That promised a chance. A gamble. A way out.

They always chose the ticket. Every time.

He knew what came next. The moment they realized it wasn’t a winning ticket after all. They’d just stared at him, some cursed out loud, some were just disappointed, their hopes bleeding out onto the pavement.

And the bread? He destroyed it. Stomped it into the ground until it was unrecognizable, crumbs scattering across the concrete.

It was dramatic, yes, but it served its purpose. It showed them the choice that they had made, the food that they had thrown away and destroyed, not him. It was necessary. Or at least, that’s what he told himself.

But the bread came from you.

That detail had started to bother him more and more. You put your heart into every loaf, every pastry, every crumb that came out of your oven. He saw it in the way you worked, the way you carefully packed the loaves into paper bags for him, the way you smiled when he left a tip. He had started tipping more, as if that would excuse him of the guilt of what he was doing with your work—it didn’t.

He had been keeping tabs on you. He knew about your debts, the ones you and your brother had racked up trying to keep the bakery afloat after your parents passed. He knew how hard you worked to stay above water, how you barely made enough to cover the bills some months.

You were exactly the kind of person he was supposed to recruit.

He told himself that’s why he started coming more often. He needed to assess you, to figure out the right moment to offer you the card. But the truth was, he liked being in the bakery. He liked the smell of fresh bread and sugar, the hum of the old refrigerator, the quiet way you moved behind the counter. He liked your voice when you asked him how his day was going, even though he never answered honestly.

And he hated himself for liking any of it.

The card was in his pocket today. He had been carrying it around for a while now, waiting for the right moment.

Today, he had decided, would be the day. After all, you deserved it, right? The games were brutal, yes, but they were also fair. A chance for people like you to escape the crushing weight of debt.

That’s what he told himself as he walked into the bakery. But when you looked up at him, your flour-dusted hands resting on the counter, and said, “So, what are you getting today?”—he froze.

He could feel the card in his pocket, its edges pressing against his fingers. All he had to do was pull it out, slide it across the counter, and say the words. But he couldn’t do it. Not to you.

Instead, he cleared his throat. “I’ll take another slice of that cake,” he said, his voice steadier than he felt.

You looked over to the display. “The strawberry one?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, his finger gently tapping the display glass that caged all the pastries. “It’s… good.”

You smiled faintly, wrapping up the slice and handing it to him. “Anything else?”

He hesitated, the card burning a hole in his pocket. But then your eyes met his, and something in them—something warm, something real—made his resolve crumble.

“No,” he said softly. “That’s all.”

As he ate the cake at the small table by the window again, he told himself that letting you go was the right thing to do. You didn’t belong in the games. You didn’t belong in his world. And yet, he felt something close to longing as he watched you work behind the counter, your movements quick and precise, your expression focused.

For the first time in a very, very long time, he felt human.

When he left the bakery that day, he slipped a few extra bills into the tip jar. He told himself it was just another gesture, another way to balance the scales. But deep down, he knew it wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be enough to make up for what he did—what he was.

And yet, he didn’t offer you the card. He didn’t bring it the next time he visited, or the time after that. He told himself he’d do it eventually, that it was inevitable. But the truth was, he didn’t have the heart to drag you into the darkness he inhabited every day.

You weren’t like him. And he wanted—no, needed—to keep it that way.

[essycogany]

Rare But Not So Rare Sonic Moments

Sonic Swooning Over Amy

So, Sonic’s been kind of the driving force of Sonamy recently. Let’s analyze that.

I’ll show Sonic having feelings for Amy in almost every media aside from Fleetway and the few cartoons she isn’t in. I’ll also present the “whys” in more detail then just “Amy calmed down.” While that’s part of it, I’d like to add my own can of worms. And possible headcanons too. Bear in mind I never grew up with Sonic, so forgive my mixed opinions.

While I love Amy having a crush on Sonic like the energetic sugarplum she is, nowadays Sonic’s oddly been the drive of their dynamic. Any examples of it beforehand? Let’s look outside of the games first.

Sonic X

This Sonic takes more time to himself. He’s introverted, so his feelings for her isn’t displayed as obviously as the others. In fact, most people think he didn’t like her in this show because of how much he runs away. He even manipulated her by flirting in one episode. In my opinion this show has Sonic running away from Amy more often than not. Hot take: Sonic and Amy never had a real conversation either. They didn’t…talk like they do now. Unless you count,

“Oh, Sonic I love you!” “Ah! C’mon, Amy. Knock it off!” No, it wasn’t constant but still common.

From my point of view, the conversations were short lived to none existent. It was the same in the earlier games too. Compared to how they talked to other characters or now, you might be able to notice. At least until Sonic And The Black Night were he talks to both The Lady Of The Lake and Amy. The two would also have visual gags of Sonic getting aggressively hugged by Amy. Or Amy falling on her face while trying. Aside from one moment in Sonic Riders where Sonic put Amy in danger, it wasn’t good or bad. Just cartoony for lack of a better term.

Maybe I’m just insane. You decided.

Anyhow, their dynamic in X is clearly built on actions. Like Amy giving Sonic a seashell bracelet and Sonic giving her a rose. Those little things. While I do prefer them being able to hold longer conversations, I don’t mind how X handles them. But let’s get to Sonic’s crush. I assume in Sonic X Sonic is conflicted. He’ll run away from Amy or try to pull from her on most occasions and others Sonic would constantly hold onto her when he doesn’t have to. For a long period on time no less. Amy’s the same way. One moment she’d be head over heels and other she’s bashful. Goes to show how young they were I guess. I have no clue as to why Sonic liked her back because there wasn’t much to go off of. Except the bracelet moment or her general kindness like feeding him one time. She was a bit much to him and most characters back then.

It’s possible Sonic just liked her and that was it, but I’d imagine due to all of the hand holding and small reciprocated gestures were enough to convey something was there. Straight forward and simple like the show itself. I headcanon this Sonamy being where the boyfriend gets dragged into a relationship and is fine with it. This version of Sonic’s attraction seems to be chaotic pink hedgehogs apparently.

Sonic Boom

Should I even explain it? Might as well because not only do I have something different to say, but these two haven’t been brought up much. Sonic and Amy’s romance mostly is played for laughs. Not saying their love for each other means less because of that, but the humor is the main reason they exist. Much like why in the main canon they started out the way they did. Regardless, I’ll dive deeper into Boom!Sonic’s affection for Amy to the best of my ability.

Boom!Sonic is egotistical, so whenever he thinks Amy’s crushing on someone else, it bothers him. Apparently he’s the only one she’s allowed to like. No “Radical Speedsters” or “Celebrities” can take her attention away from him. Like in Sonic X he tries to keep his crush to a minimum. Even though both him and Amy are terrible at it.

The moment in “Fortress Of Squalitude” a episode where everyone is a bit rude to Amy, close to the end Sonic says, “We may have a hard time saying it Amy. But…well you know.” Then she responds with, “Yeah, I know.” It’s such a sweet moment. Not as powerful as most moments with them but for Boom it’s very nice. Sonic and the others still value her as part of the team, but it’s Sonic who expresses it out loud. Goes to show how much he cares about her for even attempting to open up in this instance. Didn’t even have to finish the sentence. Amy understood perfectly. I also noticed how much he tries his best to impress her. When he needs to return her book back, finds her hammer in Archie, (Vector did it in the show and Sonic got jealous) shows off randomly or dreams about her, and stopped racing to get her some eggs in one episode.

The funny thing about this Sonic is how much of a people pleaser he can be. Especially since the towns people are very spoiled and ungrateful. He wants to be needed and that’s possibly why he goes out of his way to do special things for Amy like go out on picnics, implied dates, and comforts her. She’s very take charge in Boom and Sonic has no problem calling her out when he needs to. Much like Amy in the show and games. Sonic will even put effort into doing things he doesn’t feel like doing for her. How honorable of him. Sure, sometimes he tries to make her jealous and isn’t perfect, but he tries. I believe Sonic likes Amy because again like Sonic X Boom isn’t canon, so more outright reciprocated feelings are allowed in this case. Not to mention the dude likes being shipped with her in the show. Which is a win in my book.

Sonic enjoys bugging Amy much like a playful boyfriend. He probably admires her leadership, but I’m saying this by observation. It could be for anything. Maybe he thinks she’s cute when she’s mad and finds her temper amusing. It could also be for her stubbornness. Some people like each other because of how much they can relate to their partner and in Sonic Boom’s case they’re two cuts of the same cloth. Although still different, due to the show’s theme, they carry the same condescending, slightly self centered, hotheaded, stubborn, and humorous traits. But they’re still good hedgehogs with a heart of gold and usually makes reasonable decisions. Not to mention they’re both equally shy about their crushes. In Sonic Boom, Sonic and Amy is that married couple who doesn’t get along much, but when they do you’ll understand why they stay together.

Reboot Archie Sonic

I haven’t read the comics (unless you count watching a few dubs and internet reviews) but I’ll give my limited thoughts. Luckily there’s not much to say. Although most people believe it was unintentional, I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch that someone from Archie thought it was a fun idea to have Sonic crush on somone in this reboot. Maybe it’s unintentional but it doesn’t seem that way.

I’m basically using this part of the post to ramble about how Reboot Archie’s Sonic still manages to be a casanova. He’s like a mixture of his old self and how he is in the games. That’s also why he acts the way he does around Amy. Could it also possibly mean he’s meant to like her canonically too? Reboot Archie did have to follow a more accurate way of writing Sonic after all. Anyways, let’s run down the list of Game!Sonic if he was allowed to be down bad for Amy like they’re already dating. Which is how I view this continuity. It’s basically if Boom and X had a weird fusion and this version of Sonic’s crush was the result. Except here he manages to be more bold and upfront. He knows what he’s doing. Here’s a run down.

First of all, THIS. No joke, more of these interactions would send me to the moon. I would explain why but the panel speaks for itself.

Sonic says, “I was worried about you.” Which he hasn’t admitted to her before this to my knowledge. He states this by giving her a side hug. Along with other out of nowhere physical affection and flirting. Not to single out Sonally fans. Sonic and Sally clearly have a close connection people appreciate and I respect that. In any case, Sonic and Amy in Reboot Archie also matches energies so much. They’re both clearly running off the same brain cell. You’d think they were together. They’d be a chaotic couple that’ll do the most outlandish things and somehow manage to survive them. After willfully risking their lives they’d do it again because being normal and safe is boring. I promise you, this version of Sonamy would be a huge force to be reckoned with.

-I’d also like to mention my friend Salty showed an example of Sonic being jealous of Knuckles coming with Amy on a mission and it’s brilliant. Dude gets all bratty about it too. Archie!Sonic does not play around. The post in question.

Sonic Prime

Already talked about this in another post, but I want to mention it again. Prime!Sonic is the most sensitive version of the character, so it’s no surprise he displays his admiration for Amy freely and out loud.

This moment says enough on its own. Sonic’s like this throughout the entirety of Prime and even changes the tone of his voice when speaking to or about her. It’s so authentic and adorable and makes him stand out against other variants.

Amy’s crush on Sonic in Prime is up to interpretation, but I don’t think she likes him in that way personally. Like other characters, Amy tends to be done with Sonic’s childishness. Guess she thinks he’s probably too immature to be boyfriend material whether she has feelings or not. Sonic on the other hand, acts how you wouldn’t expect. I personally see him as his own interpretation, so I’m fine with it. If he wants to have goo-goo eyes for Amy in Prime, it’s cool.

Prime!Sonic has it bad and I wouldn’t be shocked if he’d be the one wanting to go out on dates. Maybe he’d cook dinner for her sense he cooks in the show. I’d imagine Amy declining at first, but does it after his constant begging. They’d be swapped version of most emotional to least emotional. Prime!Amy would be a girlfriend who feels more like a parent than a partner.

Unleashed/Black Night

No one can bring up Sonic Unleashed without the lovely Amy meeting the Werehog scene. I love how Sonic didn’t like Amy hugging him, but right after she left he solemnly mopes around for probably the first and last time. He’s never in any game slowly moped around disappointedly before. Proving he only has certain reactions when it comes to Amy Rose. At least in some continuities. Unleashed gives you a choice to go on a date with Amy or not. Then the next game Sonic Team followed through with it, but ended up having Amy mad at Sonic for missing it. At least Sonic tried. Not to mention his reaction to The Lady Of The Lake and him flirting is fun to watch.

See how Sonic still likes her back but it isn’t because she’s “calmed down?” She’s still the same excitable love strucked Amy. There must be something more to it. Other than the obvious answer with Sonic Team wanting to do something with the pear. I have no idea why but having multiple hints even in the past must’ve been done for the fun of it. “We created this love interest but then railed back to Sonic not reciprocating her feeling. But we still want to market them as a couple in some way.” This franchise never cease to confuse me.

Amy encouraging Sonic in one of the cutscenes could’ve been where he started liking her back. Not in the way he does now, but he admired her none stop compassion and might’ve wanted to return the favor. “Eh, she’s sweet. Maybe a date won’t be so bad.” The fact he went out of his way to get her a chilidog and flirted with a different version of her should tell you enough. Of course it would take a while before anything else happened. 

IDW/Sonic Frontiers

Yeah, after issue 2, Sonic’s never felt the need to run from Amy. From the comics to Sonic Frontiers there’s a lot of moments of Sonic being somewhat emotionally candid. Not by much, but close. I believe Amy’s the reason for that in a way. Sonic’s not afraid to hang out with her anymore. He even hugs her back on some occasions. “Ames” was a nickname from fanfics and Boom which became canon over time and he occasionally calls her that.

Sonic wishes to share an umbrella and spend more time with her. He also gets excited to see her more often. It’s like Reboot Archie but slightly toned down. At least up until the hard to trigger lines from Sonic Frontiers. The same game where he outright admits to being worried about Amy and smiles back at her with a Coco looking between the two. Then he supports Amy’s decision to leave etc. We all know where we are now.

Crazy how the more you look into this franchise the more tiny details you notice. It’s also crazy how much Sonic’s been into the love interest he originally was already supposed to love. To me, Sonic had a crush on Amy in Unleashed but fell in love with her in IDW. What makes Sonamy gripping though is how unique it is compared to most romantic relationships. Leaves it to be more entertaining whenever something unexpected happenes. It keeps you engaged.

Why Sonic Crushes On Amy?

1. Amy doesn’t want to slow him down. Obviously because of IDW issue 2’s love confession with Amy saying “I can’t change you. I don’t want to change you.” Amy joins Sonic and he includes her more often because of that. His speed is no match for her persistence anyways.

2. She shows compassion and love for those around her. Not just to Sonic, but everyone. She’s the definition of soft hearted. Even for people Sonic and his friends would be weary about. Think about now in the recent comics and games where Sonic’s trying it out. I do think it should be more of Amy’s thing then Sonic’s but it just goes to show how much she probably inspired him. Who knows? Even in the past he had respect Amy for her tenderheartedness.

3. Amy’s energy matches Sonic’s. Though sometimes she can be overly enthusiastic compared to him. Even before now, Amy’s always been adventurous and that’s probably something Sonic liked from the start. Not in a romantic way, but in a respectful way. If he were to have a partner he’d need someone to keep him grounded and be on the same level. No exceptions.

4. Her loyalty. No matter what Sonic does (including times she disagrees) she’s one of Sonic’s most loyalist companions. Obviously other characters are too, but Amy has her being a long time childhood friend/Sonic 06 and Unleashed going for her. 06 for trusting Sonic over Silver and Unleashed for still loving Sonic despite his transformation. Heck, before she knew who the Werehog was she wasn’t disgusted. Amy’s commendable for that.

From all these points here physical attraction isn’t included. What I like about both characters is their crushes don’t stem to how they look. Though it is worth mentioning Sonic has called Amy “Radiant” in TMOSTH, but that’s probably the closest we’ll ever get to an outright physical compliment. From Sonic at least.

- Side note thanks to @saltynsassy31 again, Sonic and Amy’s dynamic can be summed up as not a relationship but rather a situationship. Yes, it’s a real word. What does it mean? Basically two friends who has crushes on each other but doesn’t do anything about it. Just a fun detail for you guys.

Why Did Sonic Run From Amy In The Past?

I’ll make this quick, but the reason Sonic ran from Amy wasn’t because he didn’t like her. On the contrary. Sonic always could’ve ran at his normal speed to get away from her. Sonic’s the fastest thing alive. Why would he let someone he “didn’t like” catch up to him? I personally think he enjoyed the thrill of the chase. It’s why I believe he misses it nowadays. Though I do understand Sonic didn’t often treat Amy like a friend. Not in a way I can understand at least. Not that I think their relationship was bad, but from what I’ve seen, it was more told then shown due to Sonic and the gang not including her on missions. Amy normally had to catch up with them which was a running gag. Especially in SA2. It might be why some prefere her in stuff like Reboot Archie, Boom, IDW, and Frontiers. Because Amy’s friends includes her on adventures now. At least in my opinion. Correct me if I missed anything.

Final Headcanon

Since Sonic in the games has been the one to push the Sonic side of Sonamy much more then Amy does for herself, I’d like to think in most cases (especially as their dynamic grows) Sonic would start carrying other versions of him traits like trying to mess with her.

He’d want to get her to chase him more often and Amy would probably ask once or twice, “What’s going on and why are you acting weird?” He’d definitely play it off as him fooling around. Sonic doesn’t know much about romance, but he does know what Amy likes. Maybe he’d ask her out or go on a bunch of traveling missions. Anything to get her to pay attention to him again. After all, there’s been examples of the guy feeling ignored by her in and out of canon. It’s possible.

-There’s also a consistent detail where Sonic’s finally ready to open up but has to deal with Amy doing her own thing. Or when he’s face with different variants of her, he’s flirtatious with them. For the fastest thing alive, he has terrible timing when it comes to making his mind up.

Conclusion

Welp, there you have it, darlings. Examples of Sonic crushing on Amy more than some would think. It’s a Sonic character analysis and Sonamy post all in one. I know there’s more, but I think this gathers examples from the actual content.

Stay Creative! 💜

[wtfaniii]

Best Friend's Brother

Summary: Fleeting and secret romances are the best, you liked to feel that adrenaline but a moral conflict arises when you realize that your new lover is your best friend's brother.

Warning: Flirting, innuendo, reader is three years older than Jun-ho, drama and alcohol, I haven't corrected this yet and english is not my first language, sorry if there are any mistakes!

Hwang Jun-ho x fem reader

The sound of the music was muffled by the walls and far from your ears, the smell of cigarettes mixed with masculine perfume was a completely intoxicating weakness to your nose.

Your mind was in a whirl and barely had your ideas clear, but what you were sure of was that you didn't want to separate yourself from the owner of that delicious aroma, a boy taller than you had you against the wall kissing you with need while his hands explored your body.

Your mind pieced together the puzzle of your memories as you let yourself be kissed by this handsome man, your best friend In-ho had graduated from the academy so you invited him out for some drinks to celebrate, he and you got along very well, almost like brothers for five years.

However, you distinctly remember that he said something about someone not showing up to this little celebration at the bar so he left to meet up with his fiancée, you decided to stay, the night was still young and you needed some fun, from then on the memories are vague but your consciousness landed when you felt this man's hand slip under your skirt and caress your intimacy through the fabric of your underwear.

A gasp escaped your lips and him soft voice made your legs shake.

—¿How about we go to my car? —He whispered in your ear

You would have said yes right away, you didn't know who this stranger was but he was damn handsome and judging by the way he teased you with his touch he knew what was doing.

But you were too drunk now, you placed your hands on him chest and gently pushed away.

—Sounds good but I think have to go home... you know, I have to feed my cat —The words came out slurred and were barely understandable but you thanked heaven that the stranger understood you and moved away.

You adjusted your bag on your shoulder and walked awkwardly towards the exit. It would be a nightmare to take a taxi home, but you didn't want to call In-ho, you knew he wouldn't have a problem going for you, but you didn't want to ruin him special day by not knowing how to control your drinking.

When the cold air hit your bare legs you cursed under your breath, you didn't even have a jacket to cover yourself, with no other choice you started walking towards the subway because at least there you would have company during your trip home.

You had barely taken a couple of steps when a warm jacket fell over your shoulders.

—¿Don't you have someone to take you? —You recognized the voice immediately, it was the same stranger you were kissing a few minutes ago.

—I'll take the train at the station —You said without stopping walking and with him following you.

—It's late and I don't think it's safe to go alone.

Jun-ho noticed your stumbling as you walked and from the way you spoke he was sure that it was not a good idea to let you go alone, he knew the risks and if he could help you he was going to do it.

After he insisted a couple of times you agreed, you didn't know if he was doing it in good faith or if he just wanted to sleep with you, either way, you just wanted to go home and go to sleep.

You gave him your address and Jun-ho drove in silence, luckily he hadn't had much to drink so he had no problem taking the wheel, it was almost two in the morning and the streets were deserted except for a few people who were also going out for alcohol or to have fun, the two of you were driving in complete silence until the black-haired man's cell phone rang.

He answered the cell phone and heard his stepbrother's voice.

—¿Where are you? Mom just called me to see if I was with you, I lied to her to keep her calm.

—I went to the bar you told me about but you had left —He replied calmly, stopping at a red light.

—I thought you weren't going anymore, I wanted to introduce you to a friend.

—¿Was she pretty? —He gave a low chuckle.

In-ho sighed on the other end of the phone, Jun-ho was quite the nova hunter and that's why he wanted to introduce you to him, you were also too flirtatious and rarely looked for something stable, he was sure that both of would get along.

—¿Are you still at the bar? It’s already late —In-ho commented.

—No, I'm going to drop a girl off at her house and then I'll go back to the apartment.

—¿New lover?

—Something like that.

He wasn't going to lie, he liked you from the moment he saw you and he was certainly hoping to fuck you but he wasn't going to do it while you were in this state, he offered to drive you home in hopes of getting your number so could talk to you tomorrow morning.

—Fine, when you get home call mom —In-ho said for the last time before hanging up.

After a few minutes he finally arrived at your house, helped you out of the car and guided you to the door where you clumsily put the key in the lock.

—¿What now? ¿You expect to come into my house and stay overnight? —You asked sarcastically, you didn't expect such a nice attitude without the other person expecting something in return.

But to your surprise he shook his head silently and took a step back.

—I just hope you give me your number.

Curious, you thought, looking at him intrigued, he took out his phone and you added your contact.

You thought he was cute, attractive and chivalrous, it had to be fake, but you went with the flow anyway, making sure you didn't get your hopes up.

To your surprise the next morning you received a call from this guy, you honestly thought he wouldn't but there he was, asking you how you were and what you remembered from the night before.

There was a first date and then a next one, from that day on both went out to the movies, to dinner, to lunch or looked for something entertaining to do, there were stolen kisses, occasional caresses and flirtatious words in your ear but he never got into your bed, that excited you too much because you realized that his intentions went deeper than skin deep.

—He’s so cute —you sighed as you and In-ho shared an afternoon of movies and friendly conversations —He's attentive, he opens the car door for me and every time we see each other he tells me I look pretty.

In-ho laughed out loud.

—¿Who could be that unfortunate man who ran into you? —He joked, throwing popcorn in your face.

—¡Shut up! I'm going to be different with him.

Once again, In-ho laughed loudly, eliciting a groan of irritation from you.

Yeah, maybe you were a total slut sometimes, you'd flirt with guys and then dump them when you got bored but this time it would be different, Jun-ho touched your heart like no one else ever had.

Jun-ho was in the same situation as you, he also knew what kind of jerk he had been for the last two years but he wanted to change and was going to do it with you but In-ho didn't believe him at all.

None of the three of them knew how small the world was and that when In-ho found out there would be serious problems, with him because you were his best friend and with you because him were his younger brother.

[ghouldump]

Hiiiii I absolutely love your work thanks for feeding us with iwtv content!!!🫶🫶🫶🫶❤️❤️

I was thinking of a lestat x bi/queer fem reader, in which they’re just cuddling and chilling as they share their past experiences with lovers with no judgement and how they both came to terms with their sexuality, just something very fluffy!

That’s just a suggestion in case you needed ideas, don’t feel pressured at all! Have a great day🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

As You Are | Lestat De Lioncourt x Reader

ෆ summary in request above ^

“You sure you okay, ma chérie, you've been awfully quiet, Lestat said, his fingertips brushing against your hip.

It was one of those rare nights, after hunting, there was nothing else to do but to spend time with each other. You both spent decades without companionship, drowning in loneliness, before meeting each other and now you treasured quality time together.

“I’m okay, today is an old friend's birthday, and I can't help thinking of her,” you told him, climbing out of bed, you grabbed the folded photo from inside of your coin purse.

“You two are a little close be friends,” he said, making you laugh.

“She said people would say that,” you smiled, folding the photo back up.

“You’ve been with a woman, this friend of yours,” he quickly realized.

“Yes, you aren't the only one who doesn't discriminate,” you laughed at how theatrical he was. Lestat had been open about his diverse tastes and history, while you were oftentimes a closed book, listening to his stories, rather than telling your own.

“How did I not know this?”

“I guess it slipped my mind, I don't talk about it, I've learned things and healed, and have no regrets,” you shrugged.

“You cannot tell me that and not elaborate…”

“Well, early 1900s, I had obviously just been turned, I tried dating around for a bit, but nothing worked out, until Helen. I always felt things towards women, but you know how things were back then, I couldn't dare express these feelings to anyone. I probably would've gotten a lobotomy,” you said, making him snicker.

“I realized if I would be here forever, I needed to come to terms with myself. Helen lived in the same apartment building, and I, of course, began to flirt with her. She was like I once was, hiding her true identity, afraid of judgment from outsiders. We were together for some time, in secret. I eventually wanted to turn her, but she was too afraid, blinded by her own internal conflict. We ultimately parted, and she went on with her life. I didn't hear from her again, until I was invited to her funeral, by her children,” you told him, he listened attentively, his softened eyes staring at your face, as he held you close.

“Oh, ma chérie”

“For the longest, I struggled with accepting who I was, questioning what was wrong with me, but I eventually could see myself healing, as time went on. I dated a few others, but none could capture my heart like her, I wouldn't allow myself to fully enjoy and give in until I met you,” you smiled, pecking his lips.

“I thought I wasn't able to love again, after my Nicky, until you came along, and I suppose things worked out perfectly,” he said, his finger brushing against your face.

“We’re one and the same”

“I agree, although it does make things more interesting knowing you also have equally eclectic taste, we’ll have to explore this scandalous side of you,” he grinned.

“What did you have in mind?” you asked, laughing at the mischievous grin on his lips.

“Nothing, for now, I just want to love you, completely and unconditionally, as you are,” he snuggled against you.

“Yes, we can invite someone except not that banchy-singing whore,” you said, hearing his thoughts, questioning if you would be open to a third joining you two in bed, from time to time.

“Thank god, I thought I would have had to beg,” he said, wrapping his arms around you, as he rolled over.

[thekristen999]

Fuck It Friday

A day early, but I'm going to be busy tomorrow. I started something new despite my sleep deprived brain sabotaging me.

This is a snippet from my whump fic. Sometimes we have to feed the ID part of our brains. The boys will forgive me.

And for the record, I wrote this before that last Tim interview. :-P

...

“Hey,” Buck said, smacking his arm. “Seriously. You’ve been through hell and back. Maybe cut yourself some slack.”

Eddie looked off in the distance. “Doesn’t excuse what I did.”

“No one faults you for wanting a do-over. If the roles were reversed and I could kiss a loved one more time, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

Eddie gripped the armrest even harder. He didn't correct Buck about kissing Kim. He’d let her inside his home. He created the catalyst for Christopher's pain and anger.

Poor decisions didn’t absolve him of the repercussions, regardless of what Father Brian said. Eddie had taken his advice. He’d let go of his barriers and lived in the moment whenever possible, experiencing silly joys.

But wasn't he choosing joy now? Christopher was the biggest source of happiness in his world. This road trip was a step in finding it again.

Despite all his self-reassurances, a voice deep down cast doubt otherwise. Eddie rested his head against the headrest, trying to quiet all the conflicting noise. He tried to do the right thing but always seemed to fall short.

Silence filled the inside of the jeep. Eddie glanced over at Buck, his face obscured by shadows except for the dim illumination from the dashboard. Even in the low light, Eddie noticed his tight expression, the way Buck's fingers gripped the steering wheel, the forced sense of calmness, the heavy frown.

Everything about Buck screamed tension. Sorrow.

Eddie squeezed his eyes closed knowing he was partially to blame. “I’m sorry.” “For what?” “For—”

A loud bang cut off Eddie’s next words, the jeep jerking forward violently. The seat belt tightened painfully across his chest as the vehicle tail-hooked, swerving wildly Buck struggled with the steering wheel. “Hang on!” But they were going too fast.

As the jeep rounded a sharp bend, its tires suddenly lost traction, sending it careening off the winding road's edge. Tires screeching in protest, the jeep plummeted down a steep embankment, tumbling wildly through the air before crashing violently against the rocky ravine. It was like being on a roller coaster from hell. The jeep hit a massive bump, spinning it sideways.

Eddie braced himself for a rollover with the sudden shift in the vehicle's center of gravity. But before he could even shout a warning, a tree loomed fast in their path. ..

tagging a few people who might be interested...

@mellaithwen @homerforsure @tizniz @dangerpronebuddie

@epicbuddieficrecs @exhuastedpigeon @favouritealias

@spaceprincessem @spotsandsocks @thelikesofus

@elysynn @renecdote @diazsdimples @hippolotamus

@thebestbooksaround @tulipfromtheinternet @ci5mates

[soulfireblue]

i have so many thoughts about phil and sunny and tubbo and this is going under a read more because it got really long lol

disclaimer that i don't watch phil super often! i watch qsmp with a crow friend who keeps me updated on his streams, so he's probably one of the characters i'm most familiar with outside of tubbo, but that's obviously not quite the same as me directly watching his streams. also this is only my interpretation and understanding of the characters, of course!

Phil is a bit of a hermit and doesn't know the other eggs that well; Chayanne and Tallulah are actually more social than their dad is. There are very few people on this island that Phil is actually close to, and Tubbo is one of them. That's kind of a double-edged sword when it comes to Phil's relationship with Sunny.

Phil kind of tends to extrapolate his relationship with Tubbo onto Sunny, because he doesn't know her well enough to realize that what works for him and Tubbo is not going to work for him and Sunny. It becomes a cycle, because Phil unknowingly does or says something that hurts Sunny, and then Sunny avoids being alone with him, so he doesn't get to know her well enough to realize that the way he treats Tubbo is not how Sunny wants or needs to be treated.

This sets up a really interesting conflict and character dynamic here, especially because Tubbo is also extrapolating his own relationship with Phil onto Sunny. He doesn't really understand that Sunny has issues with Phil, because when he and Sunny are with Phil, he's usually focused more on his own interactions with Phil and the godkids' than Sunny's. Plus it's not like Tubbo and Sunny are often with Phil alone; usually Chayanne and Tallulah are there too, and there's not much reason for Sunny to be needing to interact with Phil one-on-one.

And while Sunny has told Tubbo a little bit about how they feel with Phil, he's also observed them having issues with Tallulah, Leo, and even Richas now, and he's also watched those issues clear up. There's no reason for Tubbo to assume that her issues with Phil are any different. The nature of Tubbo's role as a buffer between Sunny and Phil means that he hasn't been able to observe the interactions that caused the problem. If Tubbo's there, Tubbo's the one they're both interacting with more just due to the fact that he's more present in both of their lives.

But here's the thing with Phil being a hermit. The issue isn't just his relationship with Tubbo; it's also that his children always come first. We've seen that even before we met Sunny. He was completely convinced that he had to win Purgatory because no one would be looking out for his kids except himself, not realizing that the leader of Soulfire was trying to get back the exact same eggs. For Phil, it's extremely black and white.

And so when he's alone with Sunny, when he's looking at her as an egg rather than as Tubbo's daughter, he puts his kids first. He's happy to do whatever he can to help. He collected items for cookies for all of the eggs on the island for a reason! He cares a lot about the eggs, even from a distance. He's just not the type of person to wait to feed his kids until the other kids are fed too, because his first priority has to be Chayanne and Tallulah.

But his limit is anything that could put his own family at risk. Which is understandable! He has two kids to look out for. But Phil is extremely pragmatic, and so he tells Sunny exactly the truth. She can stay with him, but his kids come first. Tallulah has been hurt, so her feelings come first. He's very good at making sure his kids are taken care of, and he's very good at weighing the risks, and he's honest about it once he has.

Which would maybe be perfectly fine for some other eggs, but the thing is, Phil doesn't know Sunny. He's treating her the exact opposite of the way she needs to be treated, but he doesn't know her well enough to realize it. He's spent a lot of time around her without actually getting to know her, because there's always that Tubbo and Chayanne buffer. So he doesn't realize that they don't need to be treated the way he treats Tubbo. She needs to be treated the way he treats Tallulah. They need to be told that it's okay to feel scared and abandoned, and that they are loved, and that someone will always be there for them.

(Chayanne does realize that. He's a very good godbrother.)

I hope someday Phil will get to know Sunny better and realize better ways to communicate with her, though I do understand that there will always be the issue of his kids coming first, while Sunny desperately needs people who put her first. (And gosh, how awful must it have been for them to lose Creation, who called them rank one, and told them they were loved, and then left them just like everybody else.) They'll never have the relationship Tubbo has with Phil's kids, and that's okay. But I hope that Sunny can one day look at Phil and know that she is loved, even if it's not exactly the kind of love she's been searching for.

[sinsmockingbird]

This thought has been plaguing my mind all weekend, and I just needed to write something on it.

CW: SFW under the cut

I've had thoughts on surrogacy recently (strange, I know). Which lead me to thinking of becoming a surrogate mother for an [Insert Ship]. Really this idea can be used for any wlw ship, but there was one that stood out to me, that @sea-lanterns so kindly gave me thoughts for. That ship being IronAnne; Iron x Anne from PTN.

So, just hear out the idea I have. Maybe I'll expand on it more in the future if people want me to. Also feel free to let me know what other ships you think this idea could work with.

It wasn't exactly an- ideal situation in Iron's eyes, at first. She didn't like kids and didn't want them, she found them to be pretty disgusting and insufferable. But, Anne did want them. It was a conflicting situation for the doctor- she didn't want to have kids but she desperately wanted to see her beloved happy.

It took some time and convincing for Iron to give in, but she made it very very clear to Anne that she wasn't carrying it. It was a disappointment to the nurse but she didn't fight it, just happy with the fact Iron ended up agreeing and being more open to having kids with her.

The disappointing part was that Anne couldn't have kids of her own, due to health reasons and high risk of death during birth. It left the couple with few options, but in the end they decided to get a surrogate.

Anne would lend one of her eggs to the surrogate and they would then get an anonymous sperm donor. It was quick and easy- well everything except finding someone who they thought and trusted could carry their child. It was a long process of countless interviews with different people, but finally in the end, they found someone.

They found you.

The process went smoothly and in no time you were pregnant and carrying Iron and Anne's child. Because of this you moved in with the two, and they both took time in caring for you in anyway you needed.

Iron always made sure you and the baby were healthy with weekly checkups she could easily do from home. She may have been cold and quiet most of them time, you knew she was genuinely appreciative of you for agreeing to be their surrogate. She would make this known with small gestures, either with soft touches, or going out of her way to do minor things for you without a word.

Anne was quite the opposite. She was basically glued to your side, always telling you how thankful she was for what you were doing. She was kind and open, always helping you with minimal things, like helping you up from the couch, bathing you, or feeding you dinner during times the pregnancy got hard. She was so caring to you, always making sure you were alright and comfortable.

It wasn't a surprise that you'd fall in love with them.

At first you'd try your hardest to kerp your feelings at bay and push them aside. You were simply a surrogate, carrying their baby. They were a happy couple so obviously in love with one another that you didn't want to ruin anything between them because of your feelings.

But on one particular night, where Anne was being especially attentive of you, you couldn't stop yourself from kissing her. You had pulled away quickly, apologizing profusely to her. But Anne simply cupped your face innher hands, kissed you again and told you she had been waiting too long to do that.

You were relieved to know she reciprocated your feelings- but then you remembered Iron. You liked her as well just as much as Anne, but how were going to tell her that? How would she react to her lover liking and kissing you back?

Anne didn't hesitate to answer when she began talking about how her and Iron had begun to fall for you during your stay with them, that they weren't sure how you'd react to their feelings. But lucky for them you liked them back as well.

Telling Iron about what occurred and about your feelings, it wasn't long for you to join their relationship. It was perfect, they were perfect. Always showing you love in their own special ways, making sure to care and love you. They were also quick to accept you as a parent of their child, and you were ecstatic to give birth to their- no your guy's baby.

And once they were born, you couldn't haven't been happier to have gained two new partners and a child from deciding to become a surrogate.

[enaelyork]

This is all we are, a product of war I [Part I]

[PreWar Cooper Howard x F! War photographer reader]

Prompt

After her dramatic photo which won the World Photography Award, Y/N is propelled to the rank of essential war photographer. What could be more normal, then, than that the New York Times sent her to the Alaskan front to cover a decisive turning point in the war? If she is ready to face the hostility of the battlefield, she is much less prepared to fight Cooper Howard and his hostility, as well as everything that this meet will provoke.

Discl: Fallout fanfic in 2 volume : During the Sion War (I) and one year before the Great war(II). Eight years between the volume I & II.

Tw & others: 18+ / Angst / Violence / Slow burn / Before and after Barbs ('cause i like her) / Fluff / English not my native speak

Words : 1.9 k

Chapters navigation : 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

Tag list : @ghcstvibess , @thebumbqueen

You can ask for tag in comment ;)

She is dead.

I made her immortal.

Her face hanging above mine, the thin smile playing on her lips as her eyes close for good. An angel. That's what I thought as I held up the lens under her blank gaze. An angel who flew through the bullets and the screams. Her body collapsed on top of mine just after catching that last glimmer inside her.

Then nothing. Silence, nothingness.

Me, alive. She, dead.

Maybe because I made the wrong choice at the wrong time.

I don't think about it, I don't think about it anymore. At least, I try. The world looks at me as the one who symbolized in a single photo the horror of war. Others - most - believe that I took death as an opportunity to rise above the world.

But they don't know anything. They will never know.

-So, are you the photographer?

I raise my head towards my colleague. Inside a military truck that agreed to take us with them, there is a mortuary silence, almost as cold as the environment in which we have been operating for weeks. I guess from his accent that he is not American and that he crossed the Atlantic to follow the last decisive round of the conflict. As we all.

-You and I are the same.

-I can't believe you're here, next to me.

- I'm James Ford, The Telegraph. Your photo has gone around the world, my dear. Are you here to repeat your success?

He offers me a hand that I don't want to take, out of politeness I return his greeting before avoiding his gaze. Around us, the soldiers give us glances, sometimes bad, sometimes intrigued, often revolted.

There is nothing worse for them than hearing us talk about our business. Because that's the real problem.

War is our livelihood.

Each of us feeds off their misfortunes and perhaps most of them despise us for that very reason.

-It seems that things are completely in shambles on this part of the front, that your country is on the verge of losing the war, do you know more? I shake my head.

Of course I know more than I want to tell him. But our job is not to pass information on to a rival. It's about doing something with what you have, producing a report that holds up without needing anyone's help.

He thinks he is going to the decisive stage of the conflict, but I know that I am going to the place of our perdition.

The Bible was wrong. Hell is not just made of flames and demons. It is sometimes wet, windy and freezing. Full of humans ready to kill each other for a cause whose source they have forgotten.

-We stop here, terminus.

The marines barely glance at us when we get out of the truck, entering the polar atmosphere of the camp for good. It only takes a few seconds for a discerning eye to understand that nothing is at stake here, except the little pride these soldiers have left. Wrapped up in my anorak emblazoned with the word press, I take the risk of taking off my gloves to capture a few photos of these men consumed by despair.

Then I saw him.

He was getting out of a truck coming from the combat zones, carrying at point blank range one of his comrades who was visibly in poor condition. The desolation with which he tried to keep him alive gripped me to the core of my being, because that is exactly what I felt that day.

So, after taking a few steps, without greeting my colleague who was already moving away to the other side of the camp, I caught my reflex.

And I took a photo of him. Several times.

First I took an overview. Him and his makeshift companion, on the ground. Him, his hand outstretched towards a group of soldiers running with a stretcher. Him again, a zoom on his features carved in rock, his helmet held firmly on his head by a strap which dug into his skin. Him. His eyes of a color that the zoom could not define perfectly. A strange mixture of caramel and hazelnut. A warmth emanating from his gaze contrasting violently with the ambient cold.

Jostled by a soldier, I interrupt my session considering the chaos reigning around me. My journalistic gear immunizes me against the violence and animosity of the fighters; better still, they must guarantee my safety while some dream of killing me. It is therefore like a ghost that I advance towards the tent into which the soldiers have entered, haunting a place where everyone is unaware of my presence.

-I'm sorry, there was nothing we could do.

The soldier's shoulders slump when a doctor walks towards him, not even bothering to take off his gloves to give him a futile hug. Everyone here knows that one gesture won't replace any deaths, but they're trying hard to keep things warm.

One more photo.

That's what I'm for. Not just to show the horror, but to make people feel all the emotions that result from it. The sadness freezes on the memory card forever while the event floats away in a flood of torment that only peace can dry up.

It was at this precise moment that he became aware of my presence.

He gave me that look in the face like a slap.

A look that had, for a brief moment, bypassed all the barriers I had erected around me to feel nothing other than indifference. I was screwed, but I didn't know it yet.

-Are you okay, did ya get your pic?

Much more fascinating with your mouth closed.

- Would you have started again if that wasn't the case?

I realize I'm going too far. Sometimes I forget that my defenses are not those of others and that it still happens here that someone has feelings.

-Sorry, I shouldn't have. I am…

-No need to make introductions. I know exactly who you are.

Amazing. He knows who I am AND he hates me.

-Nice to meet you, Captain Howard. You and your obvious sympathy.

He didn't want to argue, that was understandable, but something pushed me to follow him when he turned his back on me to go to another compartment of the tent. He knew my name and hadn't even introduced himself, reason enough to convince me that I had scented the right target.

Like a snake, I had slipped into a corner of the room, ignoring the looks that instinctively turned towards me before returning to their main point of interest: a large makeshift table where a map of the region was placed. I have no military training, but what I saw there was not a shadow of a doubt.

We were going to lose.

It was there, between the pawns strictly aligned to the north of our position. The reds were going to get us and it was only a matter of time. It was for this reason that I was here, to see my country fall to its knees in front of it stronger than it for the first time in its history.

-We have to hold on until the new armor prototypes arrive. said a visibly exhausted general. So they have to be there within a week, maximum.

Howard remained profoundly silent, his gaze fixed on the table. Strange attitude for someone I thought was rather angry and nervous. He clung to this map as if persisting would allow him to detect the flaw, where no hope remains.

-I suggest we try for a breakthrough here. Continued a visibly confident captain.

This suggestion drew immediate ire from the main protagonist of my report.

-A breakthrough ? he replied, acidly.

-If we manage to progress this far, it will take us little time to act after delivery of the prototypes. We will take the reds by surprise and turn the tide.

-We still need to have the necessary soldiers for this. I lost half of my men in the last attempt.

The observation plunged the room into silence. It was just a polite way of telling him that a man here was just gunpowder. He understood it perfectly because I saw his eyes clouded with bitterness. His helmet removed, I discovered a man of war-worn beauty.

-We can provide you with men, Howard. Captain Brendol puts forward an idea that should not be overlooked.

It had darkened, again, I could see the depth of his distress from where I stood and it was sucking me in, literally.

-Cooper. I can hear that the situation is confusing you, but you're going to have to go back.

-So are we there? Bet on a hypothetical prototype whose real delivery date is unknown ?

-It's an order, Captain Howard. Gather what's left of your corp and we'll provide you with what you're missing. You leave tomorrow.

The discussion was over. The general packs up his things and Captain Brendol gives Howard a triumphant smile. He's the kind of man who likes to show off by proposing suicidal ideas, but not courageous enough to carry them through to the end. There was now only me left in the room.

And him, too, him and his hazel eyes that pinned me to the wall.

-You want to come with us, right? He had swept everything away. His resentment, his fears too, all of that had waltzed away the very moment the order was pronounced. Yet he didn't follow the others, content to stand there and consider me a negligible garbage.

-That's the idea, indeed.

-And it's bad. I'm not going to explain to you wha' you might see there, your mouth will water.

-Too late for that. You already make me dream.

His hand lands on the table next to us and his eyes focus on me like two knives trying to tear me apart. I jumped in spite of myself at the violence of his gesture and his intact will despite the fatigue that stretched his features. He still believes in it, I thought, and if I wasn't so captivated by his will, I would have taken a photo of him

-I think there are things the world shouldn't see.

-And I think just the opposite. I don't think they'll miss a thing.

I stayed there, clinging to my reflex with the firm intention of not giving up any piece of land to this man. It made me wonder which of us was more accustomed to war and who was going to win the one we had just declared. I probably exaggerated my initial intention a little to provoke him a bit more, which was not the idea of ​​the century when you had to find a place among soldiers at the end of their nerves.

But I feared nothing: he could not forbid me from following them. And he knew that just as much as I did.

-Do what you want. But I don't babysit. Me and my men will have other fish to fry to save your skin. But scavengers like you, people who take photos of those who die to win trophies, know that, don't they?

It was in this way, by literally sticking a knife in my heart, that he permanently sealed our lives. Because I will never forget Cooper Howard again, and not just for the meanness he showed towards me from the moment he laid eyes on me.

[wordbunch]

the fellowship in a college dorm

a/n.... uhhHHH this is a thing..... i have nothing to say in my defense. have fun 💛

warnings: mentions of alcohol and weed i guess? but literally just mentions.

Aragorn + Boromir: they actually bicker a surprising amount, but they’re the only ones allowed to talk shit about each other // every other night they accidentally end up talking until like 2 a.m. and having a heart-to-heart // neither of them likes cleaning but they will definitely grumpily do it when it’s their turn // Aragorn makes tea a lot and he has a collection with various tea flavors // also he is outside a lot so he isn’t even in the room that much and on the outside Boromir is like hell yes 😎😏 but actually he’s like 😔😔😔 // Boromir wants to have a pet but it’s not allowed so he feeds birds or stray cats outside // Aragorn will eat whatever is in the fridge, no matter how old, and miraculously never get sick // Boromir’s guilty pleasure are long showers // Faramir is the lil brother who studies abroad but likes to come visit and then he crashes in their room but he lowkey hates the mess and he gives the room a deep clean every single time // in return Boromir and Aragorn take him to cool places and buy him food and they act responsible when Faramir gets wasted (he is a total lightweight) // their room is right underneath Merry and Pippin and they often wonder WHAT is happening upstairs🤨 // generally they’re very decent neighbors to have except for when Faramir comes to visit, then they get up to shenanigans because they wanna be those Super Cool Big Brothers who do all sorts of “forbidden” things with the lil bro and living it up 🤪// surprisingly (or not??) Boromir is the one who always organizes things like ‘the secret santa’ for the dorm squad also he is the designated “bring the bluetooth speaker” guy // Aragorn likes to make and build DIY stuff + Boromir is prone to accidentally breaking things = bad combo // however it will usually get smoothed over with a beer or two, which is usually how they solve their lil conflicts 🍻

Legolas + Gimli: the LIGHTEST sleeper sharing a dorm with the one who snores like a truck and cannot be woken up, if not by a nuclear attack // Legolas immediately invested in ear plugs and he just lays down looking at the ceiling for hours on end while Gimli happily sleeps // Legolas tries to have aesthetically pleasing decorations and he definitely has quite a few plants on his side of the room, but he really. loves. stickers. so his aesthetic goes out the window pretty quickly, and suddenly there’s stickers everywhere // Gimli has posters of like, rock and metal bands on the walls and one pinboard dedicated exclusively to concert & festival tickets // he also likes to play loud music with open windows and sometimes Legolas wants to STRANGLE him, but eventually he realizes he will miss it when the semester is over (and he will miss the snoring too)  🥺🥺🥺// strands of fallen hair everywhere. everywhere. // also both of them have lots of hair products, but obviously for very different hair types so… chaos ensues if they accidentally switch them (accidentally? Merry and Pippin have entered the chat.👀) // Gimli eats all of Legolas’ leftovers // Legolas 100% asks super weird questions at like 3 in the morning and he most definitely has a 13 step skincare routine // once he was doing skincare in the middle of the night, because he can study well at night and then he needs to unwind, and fsr Gimli woke up and was scared shitless by Legolas in a face mask // Legolas lounges around in tights and always ALWAYS has a witty comment for any situation or person // out of everyone, they’re the pair of roommates with the biggest differences, but they bully each other affectionately the most and they bond A LOT over secretly talking shit about others; however, nobody else in the 500 mile radius isn’t allowed to say a single bad thing about their friends // Gimli will drink straight outta the carton/bottle/whatever, while Legolas uses fancy thrifted champagne glasses to drink WATER✨

Merry + Pippin: their room is the designated hangout place // more often than not there’s at least one more person in the room just chilling // also they got The Weed…so maybe that’s why?? ☘️☘️ // literally never a quiet moment // the room is a mess but it’s never dirty! it’s just organized chaos and both of them always know where everything is // posters, random trinkets, a collection of random bottle caps or something like that // Merry has fairy lights and quite a few books and he’s used to completely tuning out Pippin’s random rambling while reading/studying // Pippin sings in the shower (basically canon actually) and loses track of time and suddenly the whole floor is complaining about not having warm water // they go over to hang with Boromir when Aragorn is off to who knows where // they wear each other’s clothes almost always and have a pretty much shared wardrobe at this point // accidentally almost burned down or flooded the room more than once but they REALLY like scented candles!! // Merry has some miserable old acoustic guitar and thinks he is A Musician and Songwriter™ (everyone except Sam is like no <3) // pre-drinks before going out are ALWAYS in their room and then others accidentally leave some of their stuff there; the following week Pippin just appears in a band tshirt (of a band he doesn’t even know) that might have belonged to Gimli at some point… 🤫// when Pippin talks gibberish in his sleep, Merry records it and plays it during hangouts // Merry, Frodo and Legolas have a mini book club but a wildly different taste in books // when Pippin goes to someone else’s room, he will point at things on the shelves/walls and ask a hundred ‘and where’s that from’s’ 👀// so many times something (better than someone!) accidentally fell through the window and then Aragorn or Boromir caught it downstairs // they would really like a pet but they can’t so once Pippin caught a butterfly in a jar as a pet substitute, but felt too bad and released it almost immediately🥺 // Merry likes to play therapist for others but… take his advice at your own risk

Frodo + Sam: literally the quietest room ever, others sometimes wonder if they’re alive // of course Sam has as many plants on the windowsill as possible // Frodo has a nice little book collection and some old maps as wall decor and also he likes collecting nice stuff like postcards or magnets  // they have an air humidifier and scented candles and it’s the coziest room for sleeping 😌😌😌// so their friends will gladly crash there for a nap, especially after an exam or a party // also they have some nice herbal soaps // obligatory classical/instrumental music for studying // Sam obviously uses the common kitchen the most, and he always makes too much of everything and then feeds his friends, and even leaves some leftovers in the kitchen so that others from the building can freely take it 💖// Sam and Aragorn are those that are called when something needs a quick fix, like a leaking tap in the bathroom or sth // Frodo is one of those people that are like, resident advice giver, but Legolas is surprisingly nosy?? so he will just drop by (with an obligatory snack) to listen to whoever is spilling their woes to Frodo // neither Sam nor Frodo really have the heart to yell at Merry and Pippin when they’re being too wild, but ONCE it was just too much and it was during exam season, and they enlisted Gimli to help them pull a prank in which he pretended to be a security guard threatening to throw out Merry and Pippin 😈// Gimli has a really soft spot for these two idk, he’ll be like “if anyone EVER bullies you-” // Sam falls fatally in love with someone every other week and he will literally sit by the window and sigh and stare into the distance while Frodo is trying not to die laughing // they have a little projector that they bring for movie nights // Frodo made a groupchat for all of them… resulting in even more tomfoolery <3

-

i’ll be sappy for a moment and say i’m grateful for all the fun and crazy times i’ve had in my dorm life... it’s been good thanks 4 everything 🥰

✨ taglist my beloved ✨ @lotrnonsense​​​​​​ @starlady66​​​​​​ @queenmeriadoc​​ @entishramblings​​​​​​ @thesolarangel​​​​​��� @silversword7000​​​​​​ @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog​​​​​​ @averys-place​​​​​​ @valkyriepirate​​​​​​ @emmaarenstarr​​​​​​ @noldorinpainter​​​​​​ @asianbutnotjapanese​​​​​​ @adamgetawaydriver​​​​​​ @fenharel-enaste​​​​​​ @ironmandeficiency​​​​​​      @starryeyedrogue​​ @dinofromspac3​​  @wisheduponastar​ @lady-of-imladris​ @frodo-cinnamonroll​  (i sincerely apologize for putting you through this)

[weministertomonsters]

The Wedded Knight - 1

➤ Wordcount 1.7k

Dain Azulan walked into the gaping room and immediately wanted to stalk out as the offensively cloying scent of perfume attacked his sense of smell, causing him to give one big shudder. Like a dog shaking water out of its coat, except no one but him would see it that way. He was grateful for his mask, which helped hide his expressions and had often saved him from sneering in people's faces.

Mistake, the animal side of him growled. Too much flesh. Back out now.

Why didn't anyone tell me about the fucking banquet that I am apparently holding?! The human side shouted.

"Quiet," Dain said, and regretted it immediately when Whitlock leaned in and said,

"Pardon, Command? Yes, sir?"

"Never mind," Dain replied, nodding for the old butler's benefit.

Whitlock had worked for him for forty years now. Dain had tried pretty hard to scare him off, but the human had clung to his job like a burr on a shoe. Dain respected that. Decades later, they had finally come to a polite understanding of each other.

Whitlock learned to do his job quietly, stay out of the way, and keep questions like "Where did all that blood come from" and "That's enough meat to feed an army" to himself. Dain had learned to make some noise when approaching and to clean up to the best of his ability after a hunt.

Whitlock had all but broken down in tears when he discovered bloody prints stamped on the white carpet one morning. The poor fellow.

Before Dain could finish his internal war of conflict Baron Eastwood looked up from his cluster of bootlickers and noticed him.

"If it isn't the man of the hour!" He boomed, raising his glass.

The whole room went silent for a few moments, long enough for Dain's fingers to start curling into fists and his breathing to turn into more of a pant.

Stop looking at me, is what he wanted to shout, but thankfully all that came out of his mouth was, "Good evening."

Someone started clapping, and soon the room was giving him dutiful applause. He wanted to snarl at all the noise but forced himself to remember that he was in polite company. He settled for giving the collar of his shirt an absent-minded tug and walking into the room.

"If not for you, I'm fairly certain we would have never won the war," Baron Eastwood said, closing in on him.

"It was nothing. I'm honored to have been able to fight for this Kingdom," he said, which was a lie if he had ever told one.

Really, he just liked getting his hands wet with blood, but the room would clear out in minutes if he said that.

Polite company.

Baron Eastwood dragged him around the room and inserted him into conversations he had no interest in, but Dain was good about it. He had learned well, and those who didn't admire him were at least lulled into a state of false security.

Subconscious assurance that he was safe and level-headed. He wasn't going to gut anyone and wear their entrails like medallions, no.

Dain couldn't help but notice that no amount of charm would bring any of the ladies within five feet of him. As a person, he was intimidating enough, but his reputation and appearance- though most of the latter was hidden under clothing- made it so that no woman would even look twice at him. The best he would get were the working women, the ones desperate enough to do almost anything for some money and food.

That was fine by him. For once, he could help, even if it was just a pretense. Payment for pleasure. Enough money to give them a good life for their children.

He extracted himself from a group of elderly men and wandered to the side table. Most of them smoked cigars and the acrid smoke stung his nose, but not as much as the sour smell of curdling disease many of them carried. Dain had learned to keep his mouth shut about that too. No one wanted to know when they were going to die. He was a monster already, no need to give them further ammunition.

He downed two glasses of liquor and ignored the two whispering women who huddled on a chaise a few feet away.

"I wonder why he always wears that mask," one said.

"Perhaps his face is as monstrous as the rumors say it is," the other murmured.

"Is all of him so large?" The first wondered. "Even below the belt?"

They dissolved into furtive giggles. When Dain cast his eyes in their direction, they sat up so quickly that one of them dropped her fan, and it slid to the floor. Dain licked his teeth and perked up when he caught the scent of food. Just then, Whitlock announced the dinner and the guests flocked into the massive dining room. The table seemed to go on forever, and it was quite depressing to eat there alone.

Tonight every chair was filled, and Dain found himself half enjoying the scene; Crystal goblets dancing with wine, towers of roast potatoes and steamed vegetables, baskets of dinner rolls, and swan-shaped gravy boats. At the very least, no one could accuse him of being a bad host. Of course, he would be without Whitlock, who decided on everything from the dinner to the decor.

Dain took his seat at the head of the table and gave perfunctory answers until those seated near him stopped asking him questions, leaving him free to eat and let the conversations flow around him. Eastwood kept throwing him gleeful looks from across the table. Dain was not close with him- he wasn't close with anyone- but they had a good relationship with each other. Dain had learned how that kind of look on Eastwood often meant he had gone and done something Dain wouldn't approve of.

The dinner ended well. Dain stood at the front door and thanked everyone for coming, the rich food heavy in his stomach and his clothes feeling a little too tight on him. When the last person was out the door he all but tore his shirt off, growling a little as the tight collar dug into his neck. He yanked at it and a button came loose, bouncing to the floor.

"Hello hello," Eastwood said, popping out of the drawing room.

Dain froze with his shirt in his hands.

Thank the gods that you didn't remove your mask, the human side of him said cynically. Otherwise, Eastwood would be unconscious on the floor from the shock of it.

"Oh," Eastwood said, his eyebrows hiking up as he followed the vicious, carving trails of scars on Dain's torso.

Anyone with a bit of brain would know that this meant Dain was a man of battle. Or that someone had tried to do him in at several points. The truth was that it was both, and then some.

"Well," Eastwood cleared his throat and blinked, recovering fairly quickly. "I got you a gift. Consider it as thanks for winning the war and for coming home."

"A gift?" Dain echoed.

He bunched the shirt in his hands and the muscles in his arms flexed. Eastwood didn't seem able to look away from the imposing horror of him, a man who looked better covered in blood than not. A made killer.

"Ah, yes. According to Whitlock, it's in the kitchen now," Eastwood said, finally looking away from when the clock gave its midnight toll. "Christ, is the hour that late already? I must be getting home."

He started to the door, accepting his coat from Whitlock.

"Enjoy," he called, before ducking out into the night.

"What did he get me, a fucking pound of beef?" Dain muttered.

"Not quite," Whitlock said and grimaced.

Eyeing him, Dain marched to the kitchen. He had to take two different hallways before he found the place and he realized he had never been in it. The air smelled sugary and mild, like the lingering scent of baked goods long after an oven has cooled. He found it mouth-watering, even though sweet things never sat well with him.

"What did you make in here?" Dain asked because he knew there hadn't been anything of that sort after dinner. "Cake?"

"No," Whitlock said quietly behind him.

Dain prowled into the kitchen but his search did not take long at all, for he found Eastwood's gift immediately. A person sat sprawled at the kitchen table, head cradled in the crook of their arm, a half-eaten roll dangling from limp fingers. Dain took in their curly hair and pretty, layered dress and shouted,

"A woman?!"

The woman in question stirred slightly, and Dain found himself lowering his voice as he hissed,

"Eastwood has gifted me a woman?"

"Paid in full," Whitlock said in a thin, informational voice, and Dain was outraged.

"A slave, then. Where is the contract? Why didn't you turn her away?"

"She would have nowhere else to go, but back to the auction. To return so soon after purchase would drive her price down, I'm afraid," Whitlock said and added, "Besides, she was hungry."

"Gods," Dain said, fighting the urge to yank his mask off and run into the woods to blow off some steam. "What is Eastwood trying to aim for here?"

"Perhaps he thought the mansion was a little lonesome?" Whitlock commented, and Dain choked on a snarl.

"I am perfectly fine on my own!"

"What's happening?" A husky, sleepy voice uttered, and Dain felt his soul shrivel into a ball.

How often is it that you have women here? At a minimum, you should try not to frighten her. First impressions are important, the human droned.

Flesh! The beast exclaimed gleefully. Decadent, soft, fuckable flesh!

Dain opted to flee. He nearly ripped the back door off its hinges in his haste, stumbling as he yanked on his shoes. The mask joined the footwear by the fence along the property, left for Whitlock to take inside later. He wasn't quick enough for the pants, and the material burst around the expanding muscles in his legs. Another minute and he was changed, free to snuffle in the forest and hunt deer like the monster he was, excused from human worries for a few hours.

When he came back, he would figure out what to do with the woman.

────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────

Anyone remember the story I wrote under the same title? I've had this idea lingering vaguely in my head for over a year, and it finally made it into writing!

[seasaltmemories]

The Question of Dark Aono's Role

I don't want to make any definitive statements towards Dark Aono's role in the story on either a literal or metaphorical level. It feels like there is still a lot Shiina is holding back about him; however, I feel like for all the terrible horrors he could represent, at this it is pretty clear Dark Aono is not just a simple abuse allegory

Like I get why it might appear that way early in the story, we don't actually know Aono that well, and neither does Yuri, and stories of men turning "into completely different ppl" once locked into a relationship do exist, what Aono does with his limited agency speaks in direct opposition to that. When he feels he crossed a line, he isolates himself from Yuri and tries to stay away from her. In the cannibalism dream sequence he begs Yuri to run away from him even when she is determined to feed herself. Much of his greatest conflict is about being stuck in this monstrous role and trying to self-sabotage himself.

And like perhaps this could be a seen as a messy representation of the honeymoon phase of abuse, where apologies are made and the abuser is extra affectionate to make up for it, but I lean away from that bc we have much better representations of that in the familial stages. Midori and Hitomi both tend to follow up the worst of their wrong-doings with explicit apologies and excess affection, sometimes immediately after the incident. The Aono to Dark Aono cycling doesn't hit nearly the same beats, even when taking into account the supernatural elements.

While I don't want to lock myself into one interpretation before the story is finished, I always come back to the stairwell incident. Where Dark Aono is shocked in Aono when Yuri informs him he sounds like Midori for saying exactly what his Mother used to tell him. I think of how when he regains control, it is usually followed by shame and self-loathing, sometimes simply saying that his behavior was "weird' or outright calling himself a conman.

It is such a tricky situation bc to me Dark Aono has distinctive quirks and differences from our Aono in attitude/speech/everything, even when both characters try and manipulate others, they do it in very different ways. Yet for as drastic as the switch can be, he is never so clearly an alternate personality or entity taking over. Aono has stated outright that the further in the story he goes, the more aware he grows during this shifts, and many take place specifically due to Aono's emotional state rather than any outside taboo breaking. Dark Aono is both something alien, something intrusive, yet also a painfully familiar thing that clearly originates in himself

In the end I am reminded much more of how the aftereffects of abuse haunt even relationships formed years after escaping the situation. Aono was taught love is choosing one ultimate idol and doesn't realize how fucked up that is until he finds himself parroting the same words back to Yuri. Aono reverts to a child-like state and tries to prove both to others and to himself he is worthy of love when he realized he fucked up in some way. He excuses all his self-destructive self isolating coping mechanisms as necessary even while calling out those same traits in others

But as man-painy and gross the premise of "guy keeps hurting his gf even though he doesn;t want to bc mommy issues and that makes him sad" could be, what makes Shiina's writing compelling is she makes it clear that the one suffering the most here in the present is Yuri. Having sympathy for Aono doesn't make her situation any less worse, and from where volume 10 ends off, there are things Aono needs to answer for that can't be explained away by spooky occult shenanigans. I feel like Aono's ultimate role as either ally or antagonist will be determined by his choices in the end, no matter how many or few he has. There haven't been any easy answers in the story and so I don't except to suddenly discover them this late in the game. But regardless of how it plays out I can't help but already praise her for putting such an interesting and unpredictable spin on "dark alter egos" in a genre that can be overstuffed with them.

[kivaember]

re: drabbles: i would be interested to see any kind of take on what life in the PCA is like; the EKDROMOI and HC/LC-HM duos in particular always seemed like funny Just Guys Being Dudes dynamics

OH I LOVE IDEAS LIKE THESE... i ended up just going on a ramble dear god... uh i hope you enjoy! a bit of worldbuilding for PCA and RLF (with a surprise Flatwell mention!)

Thanks for the prompt!

When Erik had been handed his posting for Rubicon-3 (or "ISB2262" as most within the UEG knew it), his first dismayed thought had been: i've hit a dead-end in my career.

See, the PCA were not viewed favourably within the UEG's pilot corps for a multitude of reasons, ranging from their infamous reputation as "space cops" to the fact that their direct chain of command was an actual, literal AI called The System, and whom many within the PCA spoke of as if she was their divine god that had descended from heaven itself to guide them.

Also, there were no glorious battles with the PCA, no chances for winning spoils of war during inter-corporate conflicts or achieving swift promotions by looking good at the right moment. All you did in the PCA was sit on some quarantined rock - normally out in the middle of bumfuck nowhere - and weren't allowed to take souviners or salvage anything profitable from the surface. It was basically guard duty but for years.

At least with guard duty on solar colonies you had some form of civilisation to visit. On Rubicon-3? Civilisation had been razed into nothing but ashes after that catastrophic industrial accident almost fifty years ago, and the remanents were just a ragtag group of stubborn colonists who refused to relocate because this is our home! Nevermind that their home was basically a hole in the ground full of contaminated soil.

Needless to say, Erik's expectations had been low when he reported to the PCA's main base on Rubicon-3. The planet had looked ugly when he came in, the atmosphere riddled with enough chunked up asteroids to make navigating the mess an absolute nightmare for the autopilot and what little surface he glimpsed looking grey and lifeless. The oceans looked good, at least, but Erik didn't have gills, and he doubted he'd be spending any time on their blasted-out beach resorts.

His expectations had been this: he'll sit in whatever passed as their guard room watching the live feed from their defence satellites, bored out of his mind except for moments of fleeting excitement when some wildcat miner came barrelling towards the planet in delusional hopes of striking it big with a Coral deposit. The nights would be long, the days even longer, and he'll be cold, miserable and wondering when he'd be posted out so his career could start again.

Instead, reality had been this: piloting the most advanced MT he'd ever sat in, wielding the most powerful weapons he'd ever laid hands on... yet trapped in an endless struggle against ye olde BASHO ACs on a near regular basis like he was in Hell and this was the ordeal he was condemned to endure for the rest of his afterlife.

The Rubiconian Liberation Front. Erik had heard of them back on Earth when he was in the UEG's main pilot corps, but no one had thought them as any serious threat. Just a group of colonists who had hijacked a construction MT or two and occasionally threw rocks through the PCA's figurative windows. They weren't a real threat. They were just civilians with guns. They'd be scared off easily just by shooting a few warning shots their way.

Wrong.

They were like rabid racoons that refused to leave the PCA's dumpsters. Almost every night, Erik and his squad would be crashed out when the perimetres alarms would trip, and almost every night he'd be chasing after RLF ACs and MTs running off with whatever the hell they could carry. Telephone poles. Copper wires. Vehicles like jeeps or vans. One of them had ran off with a fucking HVAC system once and to date Erik was still baffled about that.

But that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was him.

Middle fucking Flatwell.

The RLF leadership was a bit strange, but every PCA pilot knew of Flatwell. He was a Gen Three and had been part of the Rubiconian militia as a qualified, albeit green, AC pilot when the Fires had hit Rubicon. Guy was likely pushing seventy and still piloted rings around the PCA like he was bioengineered in some fucking lab somewhere to be the bane of their existence.

The System - their chain of command, their AI - knew everything it could dig up about Flatwell. His AC schematics, his habits, his history, his fighting profile and even including some interesting yet bizarre factoids like 'has a legitimate Earth citizenship due to successful seduction of a high-ranking Arquebus executive' and 'suspected illicit affair with an intelligence officer within Arquebus HQ', which meant not only was Flatwell a demon in the AC, he was a demon under the sheets too, forbidden knowledge that Erik could've gone without knowing.

But forbidden knowledge or not, the simple fact was: Flatwell was a damn good pilot, and most of the PCA pilots were just average.

In high-tech MTs and using even higher tech weaponry, sure, but still average. But, when Erik had been new to the post, had been dazzled by these amazing MTs and beautiful plasma weapons, he'd charged headfirst into a fight against Flatwell without hesitation, ignoring The System's soft bleat for him to use caution.

Needless to say, Erik had totalled that shiny MT and ended up ejecting before even a full thirty seconds had passed. Guy was fast.

Fortunately, however, the PCA were a lot more forgiving when it came to totalled MTs. Back in the UEG that would've come straight out of Erik's paycheck, as all repair bills did (he was still paying off his previous repairs... just thirty more years and he'd be debt free!) - but the PCA had brushed it off. Turned out they had a pretty sweet fabrication system and could churn out MTs in the hundreds within hours. Where they got the raw materials for that, Erik wasn't so sure... but the PCA were a branch of the UEG, so it was probably legitimate and not at all illegal or suspicious.

(One of the first rules you learn in the PCA: do not think too deeply about how it functions for legal reasons)

But, while the posting was leagues more exciting than he had initially believed, and incredibly more dangerous, his initial dismayed thought still held true: it was a career killer, because here was another, hidden rule he hadn't known until his boots were firmly on Rubicon-3 and his transporter was flying away from the planet:

Once you're on Rubicon-3, you die on Rubicon-3. No transfers, to retiring, no early-release. The PCA's mission was lifelong and no amount of bellyaching or protesting wold change that. Erik had been sprinted through the five stages of grief before he accepted his grim fate.

Maybe he had died on the way here, he had thought. Maybe this was his punishment for contributing directly to the voracious war machine that was the UEG... how many unionised workers had he killed over the years? How many colonies had he visited to stomp down on burgeoning independent movements so corporations didn't lose a source of revenue? How many had he stomped down on, just for his own continued comfort within the callous galaxy that humanity had made for itself?

Rubicon. It really made you think about these things. Erik slowly began to understand why the PCA's relationship with the RLF was how it was. Yeah, they crashed out every night, and yeah, sometimes Flatwell was there waiting for them, but most times...

Erik would crash out with his squad and only chase the thieving RLF a few miles before breaking off pursuit. He told himself there was no point. What they stole could easily be replaced within a few days. It wasn't as if they were stealing weapons or whatever. If they wanted a fucking HVAC system or a bunch of telecommunication wiring that badly, then they could have it. No skin of Erik's nose, and the PCA didn't bill him for failure to retrieve stolen goods.

He didn't sympathise with them, and the RLF certainly didn't sympathise with the PCA. They killed a lot of each other over the years Erik had been posted here, and Flatwell was particularly merciless. But.

They were both stuck on this planet, either willfully or not. They were both on Rubicon-3 for the long haul, and one way or another, they were gonna share the same fate: they were going to die here, eventually.

They were never going to leave this razed shithole.

[cadybear420]

For Evie and Samara from this one

Tomato 2 and 5, cucumber 2 and 5, onion 1 and 5

Details below! <3

Tomato 2. Does your OC wish to have children of their own? Would they ever consider adoption? Or is it important to them that they have a birth child to carry on their lineage? If they do not want children then how do they respond to being asked about it?

Evie wants to have children for sure. She's definitely open to adoption and she and Aiden for sure adopt at least one of their kids (the TBB baby). She does also like the idea of birth children, but she would never want to get pregnant. And the fact that Aiden can't get pregnant + she can't get him pregnant is probably peak dysphoria for her because it's sort of the one gender-affirming thing she knows she'd never be able to have IRL (outside of LARPing). Unless womb transplants become a thing probably.

I'm not yet sure for Samara. On one hand, I can kinda see her and Caleb having kids, but I'm also not sure how much Samara would want that and I feel like part of her would be really scared or anxious about it. Hypothetically if they did end up having kids, they'd be ok with either adoption or birth but Samara (to the surprise of no one) is also averse to pregnancy.

Tomato 5. Does your OC enjoy preparing and cooking food for others? Is feeding other people a way they show love and nurture others? Or is making food something they avoid? Perhaps they tend to ensure they get the lion's share of any food they make, and grudgingly leave only the gristle and scraps for others?

Scott in canon seems to be an exceptional cook and loves preparing food for others, be it guests or people they're close with, so I definitely think both Evie and Samara would pick that up in some ways as well.

Evie (sometimes with the help of Scott) loves preparing loads of simple comfort food for when Aiden comes over. It's definitely one of the ways she expresses love/nurture for Aiden. Sometimes Aiden will joke about how visiting her is like visiting his relatives lol. Bonus: she also likes tenderly massaging Aiden's stomach after he's had a big meal.

Evie is willing to share, but she can sometimes be a liiiiiitle bit greedy if it's a dish she REALLY likes (eg. mac n cheese, cheese pizza).

Samara is ok at cooking on her own, but she far prefers to make food with someone else. Like her dad, or Caleb. I've mentioned before but I definitely headcanon she and Caleb start a family bakery business after they get married.

Samara sometimes enjoys large portions, but she doesn't really go out of her way to ensure she gets the lion's share.

Cucumber 2. Does your OC give much thought to looking after their own health? Are they careless with their own well-being? Do those around them encourage them to take better care of themselves? Or are they actually in need of others to push them into taking a few more risks - be they physical or emotional?

Hmm I haven't fully thought this one out, or at least I elaborate on it much better in other posts than I really can here. But for both of them I'd say: mostly yes but they also have lots of issues to work out.

For Evie, decision-making is difficult and sometimes she's avoided getting certain things done because she worries that something bad's gonna happen no matter what choice she makes. Like if she screws it up. Communication can also be difficult. Pre-Berry and sometimes even during-Berry and post-Berry Evie needs a push to take more risks.

Samara runs away from conflict due to her family trauma. She's good at growing around it in the aftermath, but dealing with it when it happens is a difficulty for her. She has trouble accepting that it's an inevitable part of life and that there are ways to properly handle it.

Cucumber 5. Does your OC feel energised by spending time with others? Do they struggle when alone for extended periods? Or do they find themselves depleted by too much social interaction and often find themselves in need of some time by themselves?

Evie is 50-50. Sometimes, she's lonely and bored and wants people to interact with and talk with and hang out with, some activities are bleh without people. Other times, people are annoying and loud and noisy and they won't stop bothering her about random shit and she needs to be alone, she needs her personal time.

Samara finds comfort with other people, but she also has trust issues. And of course, she hates being near conflict, so sometimes she will frequently run off to be alone.

Onion 1. What has been the greatest revelation that your OC has experienced? To what degree did this new knowledge upend their previous understanding of the world and their place within it?

I... am acutally not sure of that yet.

Onion 5. What is something that your OC generally keeps from others - even those to whom they are close? Is this due to shame? Embarrassment? Fear of rejection? Or something nastier and darker by far?

Evie does not like talking about her childhood screwups. The times she may have overreacted to things, thrown a tantrum, maybe even said or did something a bit hurtful. Or how embarassingly she behaved about past crushes. They make her cringe. They're too embarrassing. Only with certain exceptions would Evie confess them, and only to people she trusts like her dad or Aiden.

But otherwise, she doesn't like to dwell on it. Because when she does, the guilt and shame and cringe can make her feel emotionally paralyzed. Granted, whenever she does manage to talk about these things with someone, they somehow manage to take it with a laugh. Like "haha I've been there, I've seen that before, kids be stoopid".

Samara does not like to bring up her ex-moms and their poor relationships. She's a bit of a hardass about "forget the past and move on". She always runs away from it. She hates conflict.

[elkian]

I've seen a few of my Murderbot posts reblogged with tags to the effect of "I don't go here but I know of it" and for people who are interested in the Murderbot series looking to break in:

Tor.com (now Reactor Mag) has the entire first chapter of the first book, All Systems Red, available free to read on their site.

Link to the article.

ASR is a novella, so this not only covers a lot of ground, but is a pretty good litmus test imo if this book is for you or not.

(I read ASR twice before getting Artificial Condition, and that was the book that got me totally hooked on the series, for what that's worth.)

I'm also just going to post the text under this readmore because free Murderbot.

---

---

I could have become a mass murderer after I hacked my governor module, but then I realized I could access the combined feed of entertainment channels carried on the company satellites. It had been well over 35,000 hours or so since then, with still not much murdering, but probably, I don’t know, a little under 35,000 hours of movies, serials, books, plays, and music consumed. As a heartless killing machine, I was a terrible failure.

I was also still doing my job, on a new contract, and hoping Dr. Volescu and Dr. Bharadwaj finished their survey soon so we could get back to the habitat and I could watch episode 397 of Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon.

I admit I was distracted. It was a boring contract so far and I was thinking about backburnering the status alert channel and trying to access music on the entertainment feed without HubSystem logging the extra activity. It was trickier to do it in the field than it was in the habitat.

This assessment zone was a barren stretch of coastal island, with low, flat hills rising and falling and thick greenish-black grass up to my ankles, not much in the way of flora or fauna, except a bunch of different-sized birdlike things and some puffy floaty things that were harmless as far as we knew. The coast was dotted with big bare craters, one of which Bharadwaj and Volescu were taking samples in. The planet had a ring, which from our current position dominated the horizon when you looked out to sea. I was looking at the sky and mentally poking at the feed when the bottom of the crater exploded.

I didn’t bother to make a verbal emergency call. I sent the visual feed from my field camera to Dr. Mensah’s, and jumped down into the crater. As I scrambled down the sandy slope, I could already hear Mensah over the emergency comm channel, yelling at someone to get the hopper in the air now. They were about ten kilos away, working on another part of the island, so there was no way they were going to get here in time to help.

Conflicting commands filled my feed but I didn’t pay attention. Even if I hadn’t borked my own governor module, the emergency feed took priority, and it was chaotic, too, with the automated HubSystem wanting data and trying to send me data I didn’t need yet and Mensah sending me telemetry from the hopper. Which I also didn’t need, but it was easier to ignore than HubSystem simultaneously demanding answers and trying to supply them.

In the middle of all that, I hit the bottom of the crater. I have small energy weapons built into both arms, but the one I went for was the big projectile weapon clamped to my back. The hostile that had just exploded up out of the ground had a really big mouth, so I felt I needed a really big gun.

I dragged Bharadwaj out of its mouth and shoved myself in there instead, and discharged my weapon down its throat and then up toward where I hoped the brain would be. I’m not sure if that all happened in that order; I’d have to replay my own field camera feed. All I knew was that I had Bharadwaj, and it didn’t, and it had disappeared back down the tunnel.

She was unconscious and bleeding through her suit from massive wounds in her right leg and side. I clamped the weapon back into its harness so I could lift her with both arms. I had lost the armor on my left arm and a lot of the flesh underneath, but my non-organic parts were still working. Another burst of commands from the governor module came through and I backburnered it without bothering to decode them. Bharadwaj, not having non-organic parts and not as easily repaired as me, was definitely a priority here and I was mainly interested in what the MedSystem was trying to tell me on the emergency feed. But first I needed to get her out of the crater.

During all this, Volescu was huddled on the churned up rock, losing his shit, not that I was unsympathetic. I was far less vulnerable in this situation than he was and I wasn’t exactly having a great time either. I said, “Dr. Volescu, you need to come with me now.”

He didn’t respond. MedSystem was advising a tranq shot and blah blah blah, but I was clamping one arm on Dr. Bharadwaj’s suit to keep her from bleeding out and supporting her head with the other, and despite everything I only have two hands. I told my helmet to retract so he could see my human face. If the hostile came back and bit me again, this would be a bad mistake, because I did need the organic parts of my head. I made my voice firm and warm and gentle, and said, “Dr. Volescu, it’s gonna be fine, okay? But you need to get up and come help me get her out of here.”

That did it. He shoved to his feet and staggered over to me, still shaking. I turned my good side toward him and said, “Grab my arm, okay? Hold on.”

He managed to loop his arm around the crook of my elbow and I started up the crater towing him, holding Bharadwaj against my chest. Her breathing was rough and desperate and I couldn’t get any info from her suit. Mine was torn across my chest so I upped the warmth on my body, hoping it would help. The feed was quiet now, Mensah having managed to use her leadership priority to mute everything but MedSystem and the hopper, and all I could hear on the hopper feed was the others frantically shushing each other.

The footing on the side of the crater was lousy, soft sand and loose pebbles, but my legs weren’t damaged and I got up to the top with both humans still alive. Volescu tried to collapse and I coaxed him away from the edge a few meters, just in case whatever was down there had a longer reach than it looked.

I didn’t want to put Bharadwaj down because something in my abdomen was severely damaged and I wasn’t sure I could pick her up again. I ran my field camera back a little and saw I had gotten stabbed with a tooth, or maybe a cilia. Did I mean a cilia or was that something else? They don’t give murderbots decent education modules on anything except murdering, and even those are the cheap versions. I was looking it up in HubSystem’s language center when the little hopper landed nearby. I let my helmet seal and go opaque as it settled on the grass.

We had two standard hoppers: a big one for emergencies and this little one for getting to the assessment locations. It had three compartments: one big one in the middle for the human crew and two smaller ones to each side for cargo, supplies, and me. Mensah was at the controls. I started walking, slower than I normally would have because I didn’t want to lose Volescu. As the ramp started to drop, Pin-Lee and Arada jumped out and I switched to voice comm to say, “Dr. Mensah, I can’t let go of her suit.”

It took her a second to realize what I meant. She said hurriedly, “That’s all right, bring her up into the crew cabin.”

Murderbots aren’t allowed to ride with the humans and I had to have verbal permission to enter. With my cracked governor there was nothing to stop me, but not letting anybody, especially the people who held my contract, know that I was a free agent was kind of important. Like, not having my organic components destroyed and the rest of me cut up for parts important.

I carried Bharadwaj up the ramp into the cabin, where Overse and Ratthi were frantically unclipping seats to make room. They had their helmets off and their suit hoods pulled back, so I got to see their horrified expressions when they took in what was left of my upper body through my torn suit. I was glad I had sealed my helmet.

This is why I actually like riding with the cargo. Humans and augmented humans in close quarters with murderbots is too awkward. At least, it’s awkward for this murderbot. I sat down on the deck with Bharadwaj in my lap while Pin-Lee and Arada dragged Volescu inside.

We left two pacs of field equipment and a couple of instruments behind, still sitting on the grass where Bharadwaj and Volescu had been working before they went down to the crater for samples. Normally I’d help carry them, but MedSystem, which was monitoring Bharadwaj through what was left of her suit, was pretty clear that letting go of her would be a bad idea. But no one mentioned the equipment. Leaving easily replaceable items behind may seem obvious in an emergency, but I had been on contracts where the clients would have told me to put the bleeding human down to go get the stuff.

On this contract, Dr. Ratthi jumped up and said, “I’ll get the cases!”

I yelled, “No!” which I’m not supposed to do; I’m always supposed to speak respectfully to the clients, even when they’re about to accidentally commit suicide. HubSystem could log it and it could trigger punishment through the governor module. If it wasn’t hacked.

Fortunately, the rest of the humans yelled “No!” at the same time, and Pin-Lee added, “For fuck’s sake, Ratthi!”

Ratthi said, “Oh, no time, of course. I’m sorry!” and hit the quick-close sequence on the hatch.

So we didn’t lose our ramp when the hostile came up under it, big mouth full of teeth or cilia or whatever chewing right through the ground. There was a great view of it on the hopper’s cameras, which its system helpfully sent straight to everybody’s feed. The humans screamed.

Mensah pushed us up into the air so fast and hard I nearly leaned over and everybody who wasn’t on the floor ended up there.

In the quiet afterward, as they gasped with relief, Pin-Lee said, “Ratthi, if you get yourself killed—”

“You’ll be very cross with me, I know.” Ratthi slid down the wall a little more and waved weakly at her.

“That’s an order, Ratthi, don’t get yourself killed,” Mensah said from the pilot’s seat. She sounded calm, but I have security priority, and I could see her racing heartbeat through MedSystem.

Arada pulled out the emergency medical kit so they could stop the bleeding and try to stabilize Bharadwaj. I tried to be as much like an appliance as possible, clamping the wounds where they told me to, using my failing body temperature to try to keep her warm, and keeping my head down so I couldn’t see them staring at me.

PERFORMANCE RELIABILITY AT 60% AND DROPPING

Our habitat is a pretty standard model, seven interconnected domes set down on a relatively flat plain above a narrow river valley, with our power and recycling system connected on one side. We had an environmental system, but no air locks, as the planet’s atmosphere was breathable, just not particularly good for humans for the long term. I don’t know why, because it’s one of those things I’m not contractually obligated to care about.

We picked the location because it’s right in the middle of the assessment area, and while there are trees scattered through the plain, each one is fifteen or so meters tall, very skinny, with a single layer of spreading canopy, so it’s hard for anything approaching to use them as cover. Of course, that didn’t take into account anything approaching via tunnel.

We have security doors on the habitat for safety but HubSystem told me the main one was already open as the hopper landed. Dr. Gurathin had a lift gurney ready and guided it out to us. Overse and Arada had managed to get Bharadwaj stabilized, so I was able to put her down on it and follow the others into the habitat.

The humans headed for Medical and I stopped to send the little hopper commands to lock and seal itself, then I locked the outer doors. Through the security feed, I told the drones to widen our perimeter so I’d have more warning if something big came at us. I also set some monitors on the seismic sensors to alert me to anomalies just in case the hypothetical something big decided to tunnel in.

After I secured the habitat, I went back to what was called the security ready room, which was where weapons, ammo, perimeter alarms, drones, and all the other supplies pertaining to security were stored, including me. I shed what was left of the armor and on MedSystem’s advice sprayed wound sealant all over my bad side. I wasn’t dripping with blood, because my arteries and veins seal automatically, but it wasn’t nice to look at. And it hurt, though the wound seal did numb it a little. I had already set an eight-hour security interdiction through HubSystem, so nobody could go outside without me, and then set myself as off-duty. I checked the main feed but no one was filing any objections to that.

I was freezing because my temperature controls had given out at some point on the way here, and the protective skin that went under my armor was in pieces. I had a couple of spares but pulling one on right now would not be practical, or easy. The only other clothing I had was a uniform I hadn’t worn yet, and I didn’t think I could get it on, either. (I hadn’t needed the uniform because I hadn’t been patrolling inside the habitat. Nobody had asked for that, because with only eight of them and all friends, it would be a stupid waste of resources, namely me.) I dug around one handed in the storage case until I found the extra human-rated medical kit I’m allowed in case of emergencies, and opened it and got the survival blanket out. I wrapped up in it, then climbed into the plastic bed of my cubicle. I let the door seal as the white light flickered on.

It wasn’t much warmer in there, but at least it was cozy. I connected myself to the resupply and repair leads, leaned back against the wall and shivered. MedSystem helpfully informed me that my performance reliability was now at 58 percent and dropping, which was not a surprise. I could definitely repair in eight hours, and probably mostly regrow my damaged organic components, but at 58 percent, I doubted I could get any analysis done in the meantime. So I set all the security feeds to alert me if anything tried to eat the habitat and started to call up the supply of media I’d downloaded from the entertainment feed. I hurt too much to pay attention to anything with a story, but the friendly noise would keep me company.

Then someone knocked on the cubicle door.

I stared at it and lost track of all my neatly arrayed inputs. Like an idiot, I said, “Uh, yes?”

Dr. Mensah opened the door and peered in at me. I’m not good at guessing actual humans’ ages, even with all the visual entertainment I watch. People in the shows don’t usually look much like people in real life, at least not in the good shows. She had dark brown skin and lighter brown hair, cut very short, and I’m guessing she wasn’t young or she wouldn’t be in charge. She said, “Are you all right? I saw your status report.”

“Uh.” That was the point where I realized that I should have just not answered and pretended to be in stasis. I pulled the blanket around my chest, hoping she hadn’t seen any of the missing chunks. Without the armor holding me together, it was much worse. “Fine.”

So, I’m awkward with actual humans. It’s not paranoia about my hacked governor module, and it’s not them; it’s me. I know I’m a horrifying murderbot, and they know it, and it makes both of us nervous, which makes me even more nervous. Also, if I’m not in the armor then it’s because I’m wounded and one of my organic parts may fall off and plop on the floor at any moment and no one wants to see that.

“Fine?” She frowned. “The report said you lost 20 percent of your body mass.”

“It’ll grow back,” I said. I know to an actual human I probably looked like I was dying. My injuries were the equivalent of a human losing a limb or two plus most of their blood volume.

“I know, but still.” She eyed me for a long moment, so long I tapped the security feed for the mess, where the non-wounded members of the group were sitting around the table talking. They were discussing the possibility of more underground fauna and wishing they had intoxicants. That seemed pretty normal. She continued, “You were very good with Dr. Volescu. I don’t think the others realized . . . They were very impressed.”

“It’s part of the emergency med instructions, calming victims.” I tugged the blanket tighter so she didn’t see anything awful. I could feel something lower down leaking.

“Yes, but the MedSystem was prioritizing Bharadwaj and didn’t check Volescu’s vital signs. It didn’t take into account the shock of the event, and it expected him to be able to leave the scene on his own.”

On the feed it was clear that the others had reviewed Volescu’s field camera video. They were saying things like I didn’t even know it had a face. I’d been in armor since we arrived, and I hadn’t unsealed the helmet when I was around them. There was no specific reason. The only part of me they would have seen was my head, and it’s standard, generic human. But they didn’t want to talk to me and I definitely didn’t want to talk to them; on duty it would distract me and off duty . . . I didn’t want to talk to them. Mensah had seen me when she signed the rental contract. But she had barely looked at me and I had barely looked at her because again, murderbot + actual human = awkwardness. Keeping the armor on all the time cuts down on unnecessary interaction.

I said, “It’s part of my job, not to listen to the System feeds when they . . . make mistakes.” That’s why you need constructs, SecUnits with organic components. But she should know that. Before she accepted delivery of me, she had logged about ten protests, trying to get out of having to have me. I didn’t hold it against her. I wouldn’t have wanted me either.

Seriously, I don’t know why I didn’t just say you’re welcome and please get out of my cubicle so I can sit here and leak in peace.

“All right,” she said, and looked at me for what objectively I knew was 2.4 seconds and subjectively about twenty excruciating minutes. “I’ll see you in eight hours. If you need anything before then, please send me an alert on the feed.” She stepped back and let the door slide closed.

It left me wondering what they were all marveling at so I called up the recording of the incident. Okay, wow. I had talked to Volescu all the way up the side of the crater. I had been mostly concerned with the hopper’s trajectory and Bharadwaj not bleeding out and what might come out of that crater for a second try; I hadn’t been listening to myself, basically. I had asked him if he had kids. It was boggling. Maybe I had been watching too much media. (He did have kids. He was in a four-way marriage and had seven, all back home with his partners.)

All my levels were too elevated now for a rest period, so I decided I might as well get some use out of it and look at the other recordings. Then I found something weird. There was an “abort” order in the HubSystem command feed, the one that controlled, or currently believed it controlled, my governor module. It had to be a glitch. It didn’t matter, because when MedSystem has priority—

PERFORMANCE RELIABILITY AT 39%, STASIS INITIATED FOR EMERGENCY REPAIR SEQUENCE.

[elliespuns]

https://www.tumblr.com/elliespuns/743339485174054912/how-do-you-feel-about-everyone-going-nuts-on-tlou

you summed up my thoughts perfectly! there is a lot of very juvenile virtue signalling going on right now but then again i’ve always found things like ‘black outs’ and ‘strikes’ a little silly and just.. unrealistic honestly. it’s just a way for people to flex ‘i’m better than you because i’m dedicating all my free time to the cause and you’re not’. it reminds me of the very toxic twitter era where this sort of grapple for moral superiority was rampant amongst young people trying to assert that they were in fact good and pure (a LOT of these individuals are 17,18,19 it seems). not everyone wants to be a social media activist and that’s perfectly valid. calling you a zionist on anon is way too far though, at least have the guts to put forth such a serious accusation with your name attached.

I just think that people attacking bloggers for not 'spreading' informations about the conflict are unreasonable and rude. 

Every fandom blogger has their own personal social media where they might be talking about it, which these anon attackers won't ever know, yet they keep harassing. They are basically trying to spread good by being mean to others? How ironic.

I don't feel the need to apologize for not sharing it here. If I feel I want to share something here, I will (as I did a few hours ago). People should realize I am running a fandom blog here. Those who are already following me must already be aware of how things are.

Needless to say, many of us fell in love with the game back in 2013 (part 1) and 2020 (part 2) where there was no conflict and no 'choosing sides'. So now that the creator of the same game shows his true colors, we're supposed to start hating on something we already love and find hard to unlove? A bit harsh, huh? Because unless we go and buy the products from the big corporate companies, we are harming no one. Loving something from afar has never hurt anyone. For Christ's sake, we're loving a game with fictional characters, not the people who have the guns and bombs. The game will always be there; ignoring its existence will do nothing. 

For those who would be wondering (as I understand everyone expects a big fan like me to own things related to TLOU)… yes, I own things. But I bought them a long time ago, when there was NO conflict to get upset about yet. All of these things were bought secondhand on top of everything (well, except for Part 1, which I bought completely new back at the time—again, no conflict back then). So does that mean I should just take all these things and throw them away too? The damage has already been done; someone already bought these things from the corporate companies before selling them to me secondhand. Should I just take all these things, destroy them, and throw them out the window to prove what exactly? That doing so is completely useless too because it helps literally nobody? These things might as well just keep lying on my shelf. I didn't hurt anybody by getting them back in the day.

I am tired of repeating myself over and over. Those who understand this will get me. Those who don't, won't. And that's okay. I won't apologize for talking about Palestine in my personal life and not in the feed of the silly little blog I manage.