#i hate him i need to hit him with rocks and hammers

[nintendoggender]

day 397 of trying not to think about him

relapsed

relapsed

relapsed

[briefalpacashark]

~Ghost of the Past~

=Part Two=

Warning: Violence, death, graphic scenes.

Cleared area your ass. You saw three of your former team. Jamie was standing out in the open. He was dazed stumbling around while holding his gut. He didn't see the enemy, but you did. You crash tackled the poor lad behind a piece of felled debris as bullets rained down upon you. You felt a hot pain travers up your arm. You checked to see only a bullet graze. Jamie on the other hand. 

“Fuck,” You whispered seeing his spitting shoulder hit. And the hole in his lower stomach. Readjusting you gun you peeked over your cover taking out a few of the advancing enemies. At your returned fire they all moved for cover. It gave you a really short amount of time to bind Jamie shoulder with a pressure bandage. You checked in the bullet had gone straight though his stomach only to see it hadn't. You returned fire again before stuffing gaze into the hole. All the while Jamies head rolled around with disoriented pained grunts.

“This is Doc. Requesting medevac,” you spoke into the coms. What greeted you was static. 

"It's gonna be ok Jamie, I got you mate," you said.

“This is doc, is anyone there?” you spoke again. Your eyes widened when the click of metal got you attention. A grenade had landed beside you. Faster than your brain could comprehend you grabbed it chucking it back over, throwing your body on Jamie. The blast rocked you slightly, throwing all manner of barbies and dust over you.

“THIS IS DOC! IS ANYONE THERE OVER!?” You yelled into the comm. Across the way you saw your other old team members pinned behind a building.

“I NEED assistance. Im pinned down,” you spoke again. 

“Well, this sounds familiar,” Adam's cold voice invaded your ears. Turning the swirling storm of panic into a sharped edged blade. He had cut your comms of from everyone else's. Set up a line just for the two of you.

“The fuck is happening Adam. You said this area was cleared,” you hissed.

“Oh did I. Must have been my mistake,” he muttered.

“I need assistance. Jamies down,” you hated him, you wanted to kill him. but you hoped that he still had some good in him. if not for you then for Jamie.

“Pity, sorry can't help you. It looks mighty dangerous over there,” your eyes wafted over the battlefield. You found Adam standing a way away. With a shit eating grin on his face. Half of your team was with him. They were moving away from the action, towards the exit. the panic stabbed right through your heart at the all to familiar sight.

“What the fuck are you doing Adam?” you asked. They were leaving you.

“We got orders to retreat. But it seems like they have a comm blocker. Can't get into touch with team bravo,” your blood ran cold, panic sweeping the breath from you lungs. Bravo team. The boys. 

“Looks like our intel was wrong to. Seems to be a lot more bogies than originally thought,” he stated a cackling chuckle leaving his lips.

“Good luck Maddog,” he smiled giving you a mock salute before turning and leaving. If it was any other situation you would have taken a moment to let the situation sink in. But this was battle, one moment could mean the difference between life and death. 

“GET OVER HERE!” You yelled across the way your old team members grateful for the sanctuary of orders in their blind panic. Rising up you provided covered as they rushed towards you.

“Mad dog,” Anna greeted your briefly. She swallowed unsure of what you were about to do. She was surprised when you placed you hand on her shoulder.

"You hit?" you still wore the same concerned frown you always had. She didn't understand why you still cared for her. Not after what she did. She numbly shock her head the other doing so as well.

“Take him and get your asses out of here,” you ordered nodding down to Jamie.

“Yes ma'am,” she nodded. You pulled a pin of a grenade and threw it. 

Your heart hammered in your chest as you sprinted down the hallways. Everybody you passed you searched for familiar features. Soap's mohawk. Ghosts mask. Prices hat. Gaz cap. It was a brutal game of tag between dread and relief. Then you saw them. Standing around a group of captured soldiers like it was a Tuesday lunch.

“Comms are on the fritz,” Gaz announced.

“Anyone got Doc's location?” Price asked.

“I'm here!” You announced. They all turned to you taking in your appearance. you were covered in dust. Sweat lines dragging through it like art.

“You look like shite,” Price grinned at you. Relife, utter relief filled you. They were ok. They were alive.

“Your hit,” Soap took notice of the blood first as they moved towards you.

“Just a scratch. We've got orders to retreat,” you stated. The boys frowned.

“But we completed the mission?” Gaz stated. They had. Lucky bastards cleared out the whole base themselves. 

“Those are the orders. Comms are being blocked,” you stated. 

“Alright, let's get going lads,” Price announced. You quickly made your way from the base and back to the transport. As you drove back you couldn't help but stare at the boys. Your heart was still pounding. The boys were joking about something or other. You looked down to Ghost hand that rested against his thigh. You were suddenly overcome by the need to see if it was real. If they were real. To make sure it wasn't some fantasies you had conjured up in your head. Ever so slightly your fingertips took ahold of the lose fabric. A deep breath left your lips as you held it tightly. He was there. They all were. Throwing you head back you rested it against the side of the truck tears glistening between your lashes. Ghost looked down at your hand, at your spaced breathing pattern. At the slight pinch of your brows as you finger clung so desperately onto his sleeve. Feeling pressure on you left side you opened your eyes to see Ghost had pressed himself against you. Your relished in the warmth and reassurance it gave you. It was subtle, unnoticed by the other boys. But it grounded you. Pulling your head out of the 'what ifs' to the now. 

When you got back to base your eyes locked in on Adam. He was laughing with his team. When they noticed you guys, they seemed shocked. Understandable, not many could do what your boys could.

“So, they weren't joking when they said you guys meant business. Gotta say I'm impressed,” Adam stated with a wide blown smile. Your team stopped in front of them.

You didn't.

It took three large strides to close the distance between you. And only a second for you to pull your knife from its holster and shove it against Adams neck, your other hand gripping his collar to hold him stead. 

“THE FUCK YOU PLAYING AT HUH!?” You screamed.

“Whoah hey hehehe,” he held his hands up in surrender.

“DOC STAND DOWN!” Price's order went over your head.

“I swear to god, anyone touches me, and I'll cut his throat,” you threat was real. You wanted them to give you an excuse to do it.

“Its alright Maddog. The fights over. Your safe,” Adam went to put a hand on your shoulder. His movements only stopped when you pushed the knife flush against his neck slicing the skin ever so slightly.

“How fucked up in the head are you? What makes you think you can get away with this huh?” you asked. The sly smile pulled over his lips.

“I dont know what you mean,” he said innocently. Fury, utter fury raged within you. You could feel you hand wanting to move. Wanting to slice his neck open and watching him bleed out infront of you.

“Y/N,” Price called softly. You were breathing erratically as you hand shock. Most thought you would actually do it. You flinched lightly as a hand encompassed your own. You looked to the side to see Ghost. His gaze soft. 

“Its alright. We got you,” he whispered softly. His hand trailed up your arm. to your hand which he gave a soft squeeze before pulling it back. He gently took the knife from your grasp. And you let him. 

“Good choice,” Adam swallowed. Your fist snapped out cracking into his face sending him on his ass. Ghost wrapped his arms around you pulling you back where Soap took the other side of you. 

“Enough!” Price yelled stepping between you two. 

“I don't give a fuck what you do to me. But the next time you throw my boys under the bus like that again it will be a bullet I put though your face. Not my fucking fist,” you seethed glaring dagger at him. He chuckled whipping the blood from his broken nose.

“And that's why she's called mad dog,” he uttered getting to his feet with the help of his men. Some which held guilty looks.

“Keep that one on a short leash captain. She can tend to wander,” you tried to get a second hit in, but the boys held you back.

“Walk it off sargent!” Price deamned pointing you in the opposite direction. 

“Yeah, walk it off,” Adam tainted. Price turned to glare at him.

“You stay the fuck away from her you understand boy," Price got into his face talking to his as if he would scold a child. And Adam hated that. Ripping yourself form the boys grasp you turned on you heel and stomped away. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You were all informed that another mission would take place the day after. After the whole ordeal the boys had looked for you. They were worried about you. You had completely disappeared. Nobody knew where you were. You hadn't signed out of the base. So, Gaze tracked your phone.

So there you stood hidden in the bushes as you stared at a certain grave not to far from you. You heard the boys walk up to your side. You were wearing a hood an a medical mask to cover your features.

“Visiting an old friend?” Price asked. They had all lost someone special to them. Whether it be a fellow soldier or family. You had hardly talked about your past, so they didn't know who you lost. 

“You guys shouldn't be here,” you whispered softly. Then from the hill emerged two people. And older man in his late fifties. Under his arm sat a bottle of whiskey. He had lanky legs and a beer belly. With a kind old smile on his face.

“Come on. You know how she gets when were late,” he called behind him. 

“Coming dad,” a teenage ran up to him. He had tosseled brown hair and stood just about as tall as his dad.

“Who are they?” Gaz asked.

“My family,” you whispered.

“You sure lass. Height dosent really add up,” Soap joked softly.

“What can I say. I lost the gene lottery,” you shrugged.

“You gonna go say hi?” Price asked.

“No,” you whispered solemnly. Getting the message that you wanted to be quiet they all slipped into silence.

“Still ordering me around huh?” A woman with olive skin and black hair walked up to them. A steak of silver shone in her perfect updo.

“We were married for eighteen years. I think I deserve some penance for my sentence,” the two smiled at each other. The divorce had been amicable, and they had become good friends after it. 

“Goodmorning sweetheart,” you father called softly a solemn smile gracing his features as they approached the grave.

“Sup cunt,” Your brother stated earning a slap from your mother.

“Dont be mean. Go on tell her what you did,” she encouraged him.

“So rember when you said I had a knack for engine and stuff. And I laughed and said I was just gonna become a millionaire,” he trailed o scratching the back of his neck. “Well, I got a scholarship to this really good school. Everything paid for. Dad was really happy about that,” the joke had your family smiling.

“It turns out you were right. I'm doing well. Really well. Skipped a grade. And I'm really enjoying it,” he stated.

“Got his cherry popped to,” you father said earning a blush from you brother.

"Her names Ella. Sweet little thing. Shes got him by the balls," your mother stated.

"Mum," he groaned with a heavy blush.

“I meet a man. His name is Greg. I think I'll being him next time,” your mother said.

“He's a cunt,” you father stated. 

“He's better in bed than your father,” she stated. You smiled as they slipped into their usual banter. The insults having the weight of jack shit. 

“Found this hidden in your little secret compartment,” you dad tapped his nose with a knowing look. The boys watched on as they talked to the grave like it was an actual person.

“Have a drink with your old man yeah?” he suggested. The drink was passed around as they all poured some in their cups. An extra cup was set atop the grave. 

“To our little girl. Shortest little shit I've ever meet,” they cheer.

"Happy birthday darling," you mother said. It was silent after that. Your family moved to hold each other as they mourned. Tears falling to the freshly cut grass.

“She would have been so proud of you,” you mother whispered running her hand through your brothers hair. 

“She would have been proud of us all. Thats just how she is,” he whispered back. You watched as they drank and talked about there lives. What they had been up to. The sun had begun to set when they decided to leave. Your bother lingered slightly tears rushing down his face.

“I miss you bitch,” he mumbled knocking his knuckles on the edge of the grave. The boys knew that move. You would do that to them wherever they went in for a fist bump. He turned and walked away. With a heavy heart you watched them leave. “Why didn't you say hello?” Soap asked. You didn't answer, instead you walked up to the grave and took the drink in hand. You swirled it around watching the car pull away. The boys slowly walked up to you examining the grave.

Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N. 

Beloved daughter, friend and soldier.

“The fuck is this?” Soap asked in shock. They were all shocked, but they quickly put two and two together.

“It was part of the deal,” you rolled the words on your touge.

“What deal?” Price asked. You wanted to tell them. No, you needed to tell them. You couldn't go on another mission with the bloody hells. You had gotten lucky. Extremely lucky. Sure, telling them the truth might put you in a dangerous situation, but you would do it to protect them. And you trusted them.

“Way back there was a mission. Things went south. Adam got his hands on some valuable information. I stayed behind to make sure everyone was safe. And when I went to regroup with them,” you trailed off your throat becoming tight.

“They didn't wait for me. They left. Leaving me in a deep hole of shit. I was captured. Tortured for the information Adam had stolen. When they realized I wouldn't break they proposed a deal. The information for me. Adam didn't agree,” you recalled the events.

“The information wasn't intergyral, but it did make him rich. I don't know what he did with it. Probably sold it to a third party. When I realized, nobody was coming to save me, I got myself out. Came back here only to find out that they had all given reports that they had seen me gunned down. That they confirmed I was dead. Head office chucked it up to some bull shit Mirical. Having escaped I had a lot of heat on me. I had fucked around with some pretty important people. Friendly and otherwise. Turns out a lot of important people had their hands all over that mission. They went after my family. I made a deal with the military. In exchange for my families safely I would become there lacky,” you said nodding to the grave. “If I stayed quiet about it all,” you added.

“By all official records I am dead. Only a few choices military know otherwise. They thought I was a nifty little card to hold. Someone they could send where every they want to do whatever they wanted. No red strings attached. Someone that technically didn't exist. A ghost,” you chuckled bitterly.

"I was actually doing their dirty work when we first meet. I was surprised when they gave the green light to join the 141," you took a sip of the drink.

“In the end I was supposed to die on that mission. They used my family as leverage to insure I had,” you whispered looking deep into the dark liquid.

“Why are you telling us now? Wy not before?” Price asked solemnly.

“He threated you guys, told me to behave,” you admitted.

“So why tell us?” Ghost asked.

“Because I'm scared,” you admitted honestly. Your breath shock as you turned to them your eyes welling with tears.

“On that mission. He cut the comms. He lied bout the numbers. He sent you guys into a trap and he fucking smirked at me while he did it,” your hands trembled as they gripped the drink.

“I was so scared I had lost you guys,” you said. 

“I was scared to lose another family,” you cried. It meant a lot to the boys to hear that. That word. Family. That exactly what they were to you. And that's exactly what you were to them.

"But were here love. Were all alright,” Gaz tried to lighten you up.

“By sheer dumb luck!” you snapped.

“I know I might lose you one day. I've known that for a long time. Were soldiers. That comes with the uniform, but I'll be dammed if I let that fucker be the one that does it,” you huffed. Silence washed over you as you looked each of them in the eye stopping at Ghost. “You guys mean too much to me,’" you added. "So please. Don't send us on another mission with him,” you begged turning to Price. 

“He can't know I told you about it ither,” you added. Price walked up to you his expression deathly serious. 

“Then why would he risk you coming back here?” he asked. You shrugged frustrated with it all.

“I-I don't know. I don't know if he's goanna hurt my family. If he's gonna hurt, you. If he wants to finish the job he started?” you gestured to him. There it was again. That anxiety. Seeing the start of your panic Price stepped forward again. 

“Come er,” you were slightly surprised when he pulled you into his chest. He held you firmly as he tucked you head under his chin. 

“It's gonna be alright love. You've done well,” he whispered. It felt like the hugs your father used to give. You reached up gripping the back of his shirt and hugging him tightly the tears free falling.

“We got you,” he whispered.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

On the drive back you were sandwiched in the back with Ghost and Soap. You had been silent since the graveyard. Which wasn't like you.

“Can we get hungry jacks?” You asked. It was a relief to the boys to hear that. At least you were still hungry.

“Yeah, we can do that,” Price nodded. It was quite funny watching price try and order for the whole car. Especially because the drive thru guy couldn't understand there accents half the time. And Soap yelling from the back just made it worse. After getting the food you picked away at it happily as you drove back to base. Ghost paused as he felt a wight drop against his shoulder. He looked down at you to see you fast asleep. You mouth open mid chew. A burger in one hand and a drink in the other. Soap smiled when he noticed taking a quick picture before taking the food from your hands. When the car stopped, they all piled out, except Ghost and you.

“Coming?” Soap asked bending down through the door.

“I'll stay a little bit,” Ghost whispered. Soap smiled knowingly giving a nod and silently closing the door. 

It was two hours before you stirred awake. 

“We here?” you asked finishing chewing the remnants of the burger.

“Yeah,” Ghost murmured getting out of the car. You followed after him frowning when you saw a wet patch on his shoulder. Whipping the dribbled form the corner of your lips you shrugged.

"You got a wet patch there," you stated.

"No I don't," he stated.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The next day you and the boys sat down decided on what to do. When you explained in more detail about what went down in the mission the boys were furious. 

And lets just say that the 141 gets even. 

The mission involved clearing out a safe house of sorts. A back up base. During the next mission you walked into a room, gun raised with Gaz on point. You were right behind him. Everything was going perfectly. Till it wasn't. 

The movement was so quick you only saw what had happened when you turned. Gaz stood, with Adam behind him. A gun pressed against his temple. Terror took ahold of you as you mad eye contact with Gazs own fear filled pupils. You paused in the doorway. Adam didn't know the other two were there. 

“Let him go Adam, lower the gun” you demanded. Price and Ghost pressed themselves against the wall. 

“Come on Maddog. You know I can't do that,” he stated. You glanced out the doorway as Price held up five fingers. He was asking how many were in the room. You glanced around. It was only Adam. 

“Looking for your friends?” he asked. Price had told him the team would split in two. It was part of your plan. Price slowly put his fingers down.

“Of course,” You answered when Price got to one. Price turned to Ghost giving him hand signs before nodding him off. He looked back at you tapping his watch. 

Buy some time. They were your orders. The comms was open so you could hear Ghost rapid footsteps.

“Unlike you I know they have my back,” you said.

“Cute. Drop the gun,” he ordered.

“Or I can shoot you,” You suggested.

“I know you're a good shoot but that's cutting it a bit close huh?” he asked sliding further behind Gaz. He was right. You ran the risk of hitting Gaz. 

“Get him Doc,” Gaz encouraged you. Your face scrunched up as Adam shock him slightly pressing the barrel painfully further into his skull. Chucking you gun to the side you glared.

“Good girl. Now on your knees,” he demanded. You obeyed.

“Put those on,” he kicked forward a pair of zip ties. 

“What are you doing Adam? Whats your plan this time huh?” you asked.

“Well, this plan is a little more brutal than my last. After all I tried so hard to make it look like an accident. I knew you bleeding heart wouldn't leave that kid. I even told then to target you as well. But no, you just won't die huh? You should have just died Y/N,” he hissed. You stared at him. 

Adam was more than just your former commander. He was your best friends since diapers. You had grown up together. Your bond used to be the strongest in the world. You had entered the military together, built up your carrers and skills side by side.

“What happened to you Adam?” You asked. The man before you was a shadow of the one you once loved so dearly.

“I got smart, that's what happened,” he spat.

“This isn't like you. The Adam I knew would have never sold me out for a lousy paycheck,” you were buying time. But you were also trying to reason with your friend. 

“Would you just quit it. I've always been on the bottom run. Always poor. Do you know how differently they looked at me with my raggy shoes?” he asked.

“So you sold me out to get rich then?” you asked.

"Wow. Smart you are. And no, I didn't sell you out. You were just a chess piece. A tool to get what I wanted” he said.

“You know that's not true,” you murmered. You could see it, the conflict inside him, however small it was it was still there. 

“Please, just put down the gun,” you begged. For a second he saw you, only a younger you. And instead of begging to put his gun down you were begging him to stop shooting you with a water gun. You wore such a bright smile. Perhaps he had loved you once. Along time ago. But that side of him had died a long time ago.

"I really should have killed you that day," he admitted.

"Then why didn't you?" you asked.

"Because I was weak. I let you live because I didn't have the guts to kill you myself," he hissed.

"Thats not a problem now," Your eye's widened as the gun turned to you. The window shattered as Ghost emerged from it having sung down from the higher level. The distraction allowing Gaz to shove Adam back. All the while you pulled your handgun from its hoister and pulled the trigger.

Two shots' still rung out. 

Pain split through your left chest as the bullet cleaved through you. 

“GAH!” you hit the ground. Adam body following shortly after a bullet hole sizzling between his eyes, his brains splattered over the wall.

“DOC!” Your vision blurred with tears as you hand was forced away from your wound. 

“Fuck,” Ghost grunted as he ripped you vest from you. With your luck the bullet had just missed the vest. Since you were still gasping for breath, you gathered it hadn't hit your lungs or vital organs, but it stung like a bitch. You were jostled up into a seated position. Where your sanity somewhat returned to you.

“Theres and exit wound,” Ghost stated. 

“FUCKING HELL!” you yelled as they started to shove gauz into the hole. 

“Gaz?” you blindly searched for him.

“Right here Doc,” he said giving your leg a squeeze. You gaze focused to see them crowded around you. Price standing guard while Soap tended to the wound and Ghost held you up. 

“That really hurts,” you chuckled a laugh before grunting again.

“You are one lucky little fucker,” Price huffed.

“Who me?” you asked.

“Can you walk?” he asked as Soap finished tying off the bandage. His eyes glanced down at the bandages that quickly became soaked in blood. He didn't like how fast it had happened.

“Walk? I fell like a running a marathon,” you joked. 

“Ghost,” he nodded to Ghost who nodded back.

“Let's move,” he said. With Ghost taking most of your weight you started making you way from the base. With a fleeting look to the dead corps, you felt your eyes close.

You had passed out somewhere between leaving the room and getting back to the transport.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

While you were unconscious Price made some bullshit excuse for Adams death. The excuse worked well. Nobody questioned anything. After all missions go south all the time.  He was simply listed as a casualty. That was all the respect he deserved.

When it was time to go home you at in the plane your shoulder in a sling. You were on strict orders not to use it for a bit. Your mind reeled with Adam dead gaze. At the moment you took aim and pulled the trigger. Did you want to kill him. Never. Would you have done it save on of your boys. Defiantly, without a moment's hesitation.

“Y/N,” you stood as you saw Jamie run towards you stopping at the plane ramp. Well waddle as best he could in his state.

“What's up kid?” you asked.

“Thankyou, for everything,” he yelled as the plane started up. He was a good kid.

You gave him one of your signature smiles. The one you always gave him before everything went to shit.

“Look after yourself alright,” you yelled.

“You have friends here Y/N. Whenever you need. We owe you that much!” he called. You nodded.

“Goodby Jamie,” you called as the ramp lifted. Silently you walked over to your seat struggling with your buckle.

“Need help?” Ghost asked. You nodded. Reaching over he quickly buckled you in pulling the strap tight.

“You know I've been wondering. Why Maddog?” Soap asked. A melancholy smile graced your lips. 

“I bit the finger off the doctor that was giving me a shot. Adam was there for it. The doc called me a mad dog. Name kinda stuck,” you shrugged.

“So you did bight his finger off?” Ghost asked.

“I did. Rember that next time you fuckers try and give e a shoot,” you said clacking your teeth together in a biting motion. 

“God help your future partner,” Soap shock his head. You all chuckle. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

When you were back at base you sat out on the little patio a beer in hand. You were simply thinking. about it all. You wondered if you had done something different if it would have changed everything.

Ghost silently walked out stopping by your side to offer a cigarette. You shock your head.

"He was more than a team leader to you, wasn't he?" Ghost asked.

"How did you know?" you asked.

"The look of regret you had when you saw his corps," he stated simply.

"We grew up together. Thought I was gonna marry him for a bit," you whispered.

"You did what needed to be done," was he trying to reassure you?

"Doesn't make it any less painful," you whispered.

"I faced something similar. Had to end two of my teammates. Their brains had been corrupted. They had changed," he began telling his story.

"Did you ever forgive yourself?" you asked.

"I'm not sure," he answered honestly.

"Well, I have no regrets," you stated.

"Really?" he asked.

"I'll never forgive myself for killing him. But I'll never regret it," You stated standing up and finishing your drink.

"Whys that?" he asked.

"Because no one messes with my boys and gets away with it," you stated with a cheeky smile patting his should.

"Thats for trying to reassure me. Ya big softy," you smiled brightly.

"I'm not soft," he grunted.

"Yaha of course you're not," You cooed in a baby voice.

"I will end you," he threated making you laugh.

That night you and Ghost would drink till the early hours of the morning, simply talking.

"We should get to bed Ghost," you stated standing upon your wobbly legs.

"It's Simon," you head snapped around to him.

"What?" you asked.

"My name. Its Simon. You can call me that if you like. But not in front of anyone that's not the team," he said.

"Well Simon. Its officially nice to meet you. My names Y/N," you said holding you hand out for him to shake. He shook took you hand covering it completely from view.

"Big ass hand mother fucker," you grumbled drunkenly before trotting off. Simon following after you making sure you didn't run into anything.

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--COD Master List Here--

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[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Hello, hello! Congrats to the milestone! For the festivity may I wish for a fic with 1/A; 2/Canon- adjasond; 3/Hurt/Comfort and 4 is up to you. If it fits your jam, would be an outsider pov be possible? 👀

Thank you so much for the ask, I definitely gave myself some feels writing this one! I've never done a Wayne POV before, but I'm quite happy with how it turned out. 🥲

Your first warden

Words: 999

Rated: T

Tags: POV Wayne Munson; Good uncle Wayne Munson; Child neglect; Child abuse; Alcohol abuse; Drowning; Referenced parental death; Eddie had a shitty childhood; Post-Vecna; Everybody lives; Hurt Eddie Munson; Recovery; Caretaker Steve Harrington; Hurt/comfort

The first time Eddie almost died, he was two years old. 

Al had insisted on bringing him along for that fishing trip. A proper men's day out, he'd said. Of course Al’s idea of a proper men's day out was hitting the booze the second they arrived. By the time Wayne heard him snore, little Ed had already wandered off. 

He found him floating face down between the reeds a few yards away. The water lillies and the pretty lights rippling on the surface must've drawn him in. Wayne thinks he lost five years of his life in the seconds between pulling him out and the kid's first coughs filling the air.

“‘s okay, kiddo,” Wayne murmured as he rocked the both of them, tears and lake water drenching his flannel. “‘s okay. I gotcha.”

The ruckus drew Al, of course. He took one look at them and yanked Eddie away by the arm, slapping him hard across the face. 

“Quit howling, it's your own damn fault for going in the water. And you,” his eyes found Wayne's and his face twisted into something ugly. “Who d'ya think you are, his fucking guard dog? Keep your nose outta things that don't concern ya.” 

And maybe it was because Wayne never liked being told what to do, least of all by his drunk, deadbeat brother - but he promised himself something on that day. 

For as long as Eddie would need him, he'd watch over him. 

He'd often think back on that promise over the years. Teaching Eddie to ride a bike. Letting him sob into his shoulder at his mom's funeral, daring Al to say something about being a man one glare at a time. Taking him in when he showed up on his doorstep, bruised and beaten, hair shorn so short his scalp was bleeding in places. 

Wayne never regretted his decision, and he never broke that promise. 

Until the day Eddie almost died the second time. 

*

The beemer parked by the new trailer is a sight he should be used to by now. Still, Wayne can't help but grumble as he makes his way up the porch steps. 

Don't get him wrong, he'll be forever grateful to the Harrington boy for carrying Eddie out of literal hell, but he isn't sure if this new friendship between the two will ever be anything but bizarre to him. 

Maybe it's because the Harringtons don't mingle with the likes of them, or maybe it's because the lad is the exact type of kid Eddie hates with a passion, usually. 

Maybe it's because Wayne has noticed the way Eddie looks at the boy. He's always had a way of getting in too deep, Eddie has. Drawn to pretty flowers and rippling lights that'll slip through his fingers when grasps at them, luring him in until it's too late. 

The first thing he hears when he steps inside is a thud, followed by a wince. He's just taken the first step when Harrington barrels out of the kitchen and into Eddie’s room, completely unaware of Wayne standing in the door. 

“Eddie? What are you doing?” 

“Nothing,” comes Eddie’s reply, and Wayne knows that tone. The just-got-caught-doing-forbidden-shit one. “Just trying to put up this fucking thing.” 

Toeing off his boots, Wayne hovers closer to the half-open door. A look inside reveals Eddie, sitting on the bed with a sheepish grin on his face and that giant banner he made for his band beside him. Harrington, back turned to the door, huffs and picks up the hammer lying on the ground. 

“You’re supposed to be resting,” he scolds, climbing onto the bed and gesturing for Eddie to hand him the banner. A few swift movements and knocks of the hammer later, it’s hanging. “You could’ve opened a wound. Again. What do I need to do to make you stay in bed, tie you up?” 

Eddie grins toothily. “Okay, one: I am in bed, technically. And two: oooh, kinky.” 

Wayne groans soundlessly. Harrington rakes a hand down his face, plopping down cross-legged on the mattress. 

“Eddie.” 

Their knees bump together. Now that he has turned and he can see him in half-profile, Wayne recognizes the concern on Harrington’s face. Eddie’s grin shifts into something softer. 

“I know,” he says, watching his hand fiddle with a loose thread on his pajama pants. “It’s just … It’s annoying, not being able to do anything on my own. Being such a goddamn burden all the time. To Wayne, to the kids. To you.” 

“Hey.” Harrington’s hand settles on top of Eddie’s. “You're not a burden. We're all glad you're here. I'm glad. You know that, right? 

Eddie flips his hand, tangling their fingers together, and Harrington doesn't pull away. 

“Yeah,” Eddie murmurs. “I know.” 

Harrington smiles, reaching up to cup Eddie’s face with his free hand. 

“You just wait,” he winks. “You'll be back to walking on tables in no time. And in the meantime …” 

Eddie melts into the touch, lashes brushing the other boy's palm as his eyes flutter shut. 

“In the meantime, you got me.” 

“I gotcha,” Harrington confirms, and leans in. 

Wayne is just about to sneak away when the kettle whistles in the kitchen. The boys turn … and then they all just sort of freeze.

“Hiya, boys,” Wayne rumbles when they're still silently gaping at him a few seconds later. 

“Mr. Munson,” Harrington croaks. “I mean … sir. I mean … hi?” 

“Wayne?” Eddie blurts. “H-how long have you been standing there?” 

Wayne considers that question while both boys continue to stare at him with matching scarlet blushes coloring their cheeks. Their hands are still lying entwined on the mattress between them. 

“Long enough, I reckon,” is what he finally says. “I'll take care of the kettle, Steve. You lads stay put.” 

And with that, he closes the door on their confused faces and makes his way into the kitchen. It's been a long day, and he's looking forward to resting his feet. 

More celebration ficlets

[therealslimshakespeare]

From Sarge’s kids I think I’m (as of now) excited to learn more about Daisy. She’s got a lot of Elvis in her and she witnesses Elaine go to hell and back to help him beat his addiction and although she’s independent I hope there’s gonna be someone who will be able to do the same for her or stand by her. Not to mention she’s got a twin who they come off as polar opposites (what with Rosalee being a huge Daddy’s girl) and her comments towards her older sister Ella’s marriage - I get the feeling there’s a lot to unpack there.

I think sometimes Elvis felt like he was too much to love and I see a lot of his personal insecurities in Daisy, she even is a popstar like him and that’s a lot of people loving you with maybe them feeling like they aren’t really known for who they are deep down.

I am so happy to hear this, I’ve got a little started on each kid’s own fic (I want one for each like I had for Jesse, just to establish them and then let loose with the intermingling) and I really think hers is compelling. It’s been truly a blast to get to know her and I’ve gotta be honest she may be the most Lisa-like of any Sarge kid in many ways, partly because she’s so Elvis incarnate. It took awhile but me and my scheming buddies have cooked up a good partner for her and she will always have her family as backup and even her godfather Marlon. I think she will, as you said, be publicly adored but can be rather offputting one on one, even though she desperately needs connection. I think eventually, and not after too long, all these relationships get far better, and Daisy finds her little nook in the family easily. She is the one to go to for the zero bullshit takes or help hiding a body. Loyal and fierce that one.

And here, since you made my day asking about her, have a little random snippet I’ve written about her first big debut recording which came from her rehab scribbles and, unfortunately for the family members her lyrics feature -becomes a sensation.

Era: 1978-9ish??

Warnings: moderate…mentions of past divorce, infidelity, a daughter sorta writing a hit tell all? remincence of a one off threesome and Elvis having straight man panic for it (I’m afraid this couple is polyamorous central I’m the 60’s but nothing explicit) big ole family chat with the grown kids, chaos as can be expected…

What about Wendy?

“Daisy Mae!” Elvis bellows her full name because the crime warrants it, and from behind him, her voice answers, not in person from her place sprawled on the couch but behind him, coming through the stereo in a clear cadence that his creative side must acknowledge is skilled and evocative. What Elvis doesn't find so praiseworthy is his Dear Daughter hanging the family laundry out for all to see with lyrics like:

—“So I'll lock the window and turn on the AC, You'll throw your rocks, and you'll scream that you hate me, But it gets old being forever 20, And what about my wings? What about Wendy?”—

out on a clothesline for all the world to commentate on his failings and his marriage.

The music video coming out tomorrow on MTV, teased as featuring a fresh faced Daisy in a montage of her mother’s most iconic looks -including that secretive wedding gown so few of the nation ever saw, rather hammers home the not so subtle point. As far as Elvis is concerned this is about as disloyal as it gets.

And he is having none of it.

“It’s art, Daddy.” Daisy murmurs, utterly unphased by the hurricane of wrath she can match once she gets that cup of coffee Rosalee is making her.

“Is this how you see us?” Elvis demands and Jesse winces to the side, things had been going so smoothly after Danny was born but lord, the Presley’s just can’t manage to be calm for long, Daisy had to record that stupid black book she scribbled in during rehab and, my does it have some choice takes on the events of the last decade. “This how you see your childhood?” Elvus goes on, “Where we loved ya like no one’s ever loved any kids and gave ya everythin’ and-“

“-and slammed a buncha doors in between.“ Daisy shrugs, not meaning to be cruel, but it’s the truth and she’s never had her sibling’s affinity for the affection that the rest of the kids take as blood money for the insanity they got put through. Daisy doesn't hold a grudge against anyone for her childhood, in fact, she’s thankful for the writing material. But she’s not gonna be sorry for writing shit as it was.

Which was mama playing a haggard Wendy while Daddy flitted in and out of the window at whim like Peter Pan.

“Girl,” her daddy begs her to understand as he takes his seat next to her on the sofa, big ringed hand familiar and pleading on her bony knee, as if somehow this appeal of his will lock the song back into her diary and out of the radio -or maybe he doesn’t care about his reputation anymore, he’s gotten lax about that after the divorce, maybe he really is seeking after his child’s good opinion this time when he continues, “I’m all for art’n’shit but have I not taught ya nothin’ bout-“

“Daddy, ya didn’t even write your own songs.” Daisy gently tries to get him to see the difference in their art but Jesse gasps out in horror:

“Daisy!!” like she just shot their father instead of stating the truth. Which is kinda her problem with her family, they can’t take straight facts.

“Alright, alright then,” Elvis simmers a bit but his tone is restrained as he presses his point, “so ya write from the heart and ya wrote about life, I get ya. So then why’d you call mama Wendy when, w-w-when she’s -she’s my Tinkerbell?”

“You’d rather I used your pet little name in public?” Daisy scoffs at his muddled logic and feels bad for the first time after -soon as his brow furrows in genuine hurt. Daddy loves mama, he loves her again like a new man and Daisy doesn’t get how that works but it’s the truth and she’s got no fight to pick with the truth. It makes her admit with a shrug, “I used it ‘cause Marlon always says she’s Wendy.”

You could hear a pin drop the way everyone’s chatter in the living room stops, even the coffee maker stops spluttering in the distance and it’s highly likely Jesse isn’t even breathing as everyone’s head’s swivel, Daddy’s slower but more intent than any, to look at Elaine where’s she sits in the white arm chair, blanket cast over her where Danny fell asleep while nursing. She’s as white as the rocker she sits in.

“Oh does he now?” Elvis rumbles and Daisy feels the unintentional bite of his nails on her knee.

“Well yeah, he does and -always has.” Daisy insists as if the past and present existence of Brando’s opinions on Elvis’ wife makes shit any better, Daisy knows it the second she lets it out that it’s not exactly balm on the scab.

Her voice doesn't make anyone look away from mama and her perfect, frozen face, carefully neutral and soothingly disinterested in the topic.

“That man has only ever called me, Elaine.” mama laughs an airy, dismissive little thing and the bite of Daddy’s rings on Daisy’s knee loosens their grip. “And if he thinks i'm a Wendy -he should say it to my face.” she jokes and Jesse predictably lets out a pained laugh of solidarity.

“-A-a-and w-who the hell did ya get to sew all those recreated outfits, girl?” Daddy is suddenly back on the original topic with a burst of renewed incredulity at her gall and Daisy knows she can use this to her advantage, get him arguing about fashion, tailors and supporting local folks instead of berating her for her lyrics and-

-Ella watches as Elaine’s stiff face smoothes into relief and she lays her head back against the rocker’s cushion and closes her eyes against the hubbub that’s no longer pertinent to her. Not for the first time Ella wonders if mama is as burdened as she is with thoughts and feelings married women shouldn’t have, they really shouldn’t. Marriage should cure a woman of them but Ella had them all alone on the ranch with her husband gone and Mama had Marlon and his lingering looks and her frozen face whenever his name gets mentioned and mama who is staring up at the ceiling like she’s no longer in the room with them at all.

“Peter Pan, Peter Pan, little lost boy actin’ like a big man,” only Marlon could have made that rhyme sound like anything but a goad, only Marlon really saw what Elaine saw when Elvis was sated, pliable, sweet as a newborn and pretty a sin. “Those producers who’ve got him playin’ tough n’ shit don’t know his appeal, they just don’t get it. Goddamn Peter Pan.”

And he had run his fingers over Elvis’ face, catching his drooping eyelids and pulling them down and over his nose to those cherub lips. And Elvis’ eyes hadn’t opened again till next morning when he woke in angry panic.

Elaine stares at the ceiling and feels Danny shift against her breast, snuggling closer, and she wonders if Elvis ever recalls that night like she does. Ever replays it a million times.

Wendy, Wendy Wendy.

Marlon thinks she’s Wendy, Marlon’s told her own daughter that. But never her. No. He’d just raked his hand through the wrecked coiff of Elvis’ gelled hair and admiringly called him Peter Pan. And Elvis, being Elvis in the state of freshly loved and freshly praised, never balked at it before drifting to sleep in their muggy tent.

Wendy, Wendy, Wendy, he never called Elaine that to her face.

Elaine catches Daisy’s eye next time she looks away from the ceiling, an odd moment of recognition. Funny how each child knows a part of her, but it’s the inner workings of Daisy’s curious, generous, honest self -a heart so very like Elvis’ own- that can look back at Elaine and smile at her, while knowing her fully, faults and all. It’s not so bad having grown daughters as a friend, Elaine decides as she watches Elvis flail backwards against the couch to laugh at his daughter's good natured dig at his unmodified wardrobe.

It’s good not to be his only Wendy keeping him young anymore.

Song based on: Wendy by Maisie Peters

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[bloodgulchblog]

I need to name this and polish the edges but when I do I'll put it on AO3. Jackals steal the Pelican and the gang gets it back. Esparza hates Chief's Warthog driving. 2.5k words.

The Chief’s helmet swings in a smooth echo of the Pelican’s arc, tracking the stolen dropship’s movement as he processes, and then he’s running. Esparza’s running too, he’s much slower but he’s closer. He has time to leg over the side of the Warthog just before the Master Chief vaults up over the top and down at the wheel, the whole vehicle rocking under the weight of the MJOLNIR armor.

He doesn’t look at Esparza until after he’s already gunning them off through the trees.

“We’re getting it back,” he says, rock-steady and factual, the man ready to pull down the moon.

“Big guy-”

Esparza doesn’t know what he’s going to say and doesn’t get to find out. They take a meter of air as the Chief points the hog over a broad-backed rock and it launches eagerly off the crest. All Esparza can do is hold on for dear life, his heart hammering in his ears and against his ribs. The breath that leaves him is barely intelligible profanity as they land and keep rolling. He wonders what it takes to break a Warthog, and is sure it’s more than it would take to break his own spine.

“Chief!” the young AI alerts over the armor’s external speakers. It’s for Esparza’s benefit, so he can hear her yell at the Chief. The Chief does not slow but he turns, swerving them out of the trees and onto an open part of the ridge.

“We can’t lose them,” he says.

“Do not make me fall out of this car,” Esparza manages to spit. Dust is pluming behind them as the huge tires haul them down, down, down hill. He cannot see the Pelican, he’s assuming the Weapon’s tracking it and feeding it through Chief’s HUD or something like that as the unfair fight between ground vehicle and air vehicle plays out. He cannot help, he’s just here for the ride.

He shouldn’t have jumped in the jeep.

If he hadn’t jumped in the jeep, would Chief have left him back there?

“I won’t,” the Chief says and he’s so casual about it Esparza could strangle him. The Warthog bounces as they hit uneven ground, the corners of the frame rocking and jilting as the jeep prances across grass and stone until they’re out of the hummocks and sliding downhill again at an angle that makes Esparza sure they’re about to flip forward. Chief angles them hard. They’re on four wheels, then just the right two, and then the Master Chief’s long, armored arm is across Esparza’s front and it’s the only thing anchoring him to safety and life as the jeep rolls side over side and he finally just has to scream with it. They land on four again, perfectly calculated, and Esparza can’t let go of Chief’s arm just as much as he can’t stop swearing at him.

“I don’t think they can see us anymore,” the Weapon says with the calm, detached focus of an AI with split attention. “They’re slowing down and flying straight.”

Chief’s still holding Esparza with one arm, carefully not crushing him into the seat, and driving with the other. Even when he has to fight the wheel to get them over another rock, one arm seems to make no real difference. Esparza’s getting used to him, slotting the Master Chief into his brain in a place that processes people and not iconic demigod war figures, and that means sometimes forgetting how ludicrously strong he is.

“Can you shoot?”

The question takes a second to get to the smart part of Esparza’s brain through all the traffic currently running in the adrenaline-soaked part of it that mostly remembers what it’s like to run from cave lions and how nice it maybe feels if someone strong is protecting you.

“What?” he manages.

“Can you shoot?” The Chief obliges.

Esparza remembers the big M46 LAAG anchored behind them in the bed and feels a sinking in the pit of his belly that has nothing to do with the next awful bounce.

“I’m not trained on that chain gun, Chief.”

“I am. If I give you my sidearm, can you use it?”

“Yes?”

“Good.”

He doesn’t say anything more. Esparza keeps expecting him to. They’re finally running the hog over smooth stone and dark gray sand, having found the nice shallow belly of this fold in the land where the Forerunner-seeded river beside them has had time to run this ground flat. Chief has both hands back on the wheel.

“Can you please let me in on what the plan is?” Esparza finally asks.

“I’ll figure that out when we find where they’re taking the bird.” Ominous. What’s even more ominous is how the river is turning, and the Warthog is not. The Chief is not.

“That’s water, Chief.”

“We can slog it.”

“Are you sure?!”

They’re already in. Cold river water swamps up high enough to spill across their legs. Esparza hisses in dismay and smacks Chief’s right pauldron in fruitless protest. The hog’s not a swimmer, but it is a wader. Chief has to have some kind of depth gauge in that phenomenally expensive helmet, because the spot they’re fording is shallow enough to cross with a watery snarl. The jeep’s wheels beat a frothy wake behind them and cloud the water with billowing silt, and then the Warthog’s clawing its way up the other bank. Esparza’s just glad it’s a shallow grade, because he’s sure Chief wouldn’t balk at the face of yet another awful tire climb. All the river they took on as passenger is escaping out drainage points built for this, but Esparza’s pants are still wet and he doesn’t need this to be worse.

“Did you do this to all the jeeps I found for you?”

“Just the good ones.”

Esparza snorts, but doesn’t want to give in to a laugh. He’s still just getting to know the Chief, and especially this version of the Chief who speaks to him slightly more often, but he’s getting a strong sense that maybe Spartan-IIs don’t need encouragement when it comes to bad jokes.

“They’re putting down,” says the Weapon. “I’m painting a waypoint. Do you think the Jackals will damage it, Chief?”

“Not immediately. No good to them if they break it.”

“They better not,” says Esparza, who didn’t realize how strongly he felt about it until this moment. Scared, yes. Angry, yes. But there’s something specific about the Pelican now. It’s his Pelican, it’s been his home for six months and they may have been the worst six months of his entire life, but that does not change the truth of it. The idea of a bunch of Banished Jackals tinkering around on it feels personal. Chief’s taking them up hill again, and Fernando at least likes to imagine he’s slackened the pace now that the dropship isn’t moving. It’s the smallest relief and isn’t complete, though, because in short order they’re hitting trees and hexagonal shelf-cliffs and piles of fallen rocks that range in size from a man’s head up to almost as big as the Pelican they’re chasing. It’s one of these that Chief tests the front wheels against for a moment, before pushing forward so they start rolling up the incline onto it. Esparza holds on tight to the grab bar. “Please don’t flip us.”

Chief obliges without a word. They’re over and rolling, and then he’s positioning the tires for the next maneuver that will carry them up and through a narrow gap between two boulders. It’s wide enough that the Warthog should be able to span it if he can get the left wheels against one face and the right wheels against the other at the right level.

“We could just get out and walk,” Esparza suggests. He’s getting used to this. It’s a joke.

“You could,” Chief says mildly as he shifts gears. “Hold on.”

Esparza doesn’t point out that he was already holding on, he just does it harder as the Warthog fights its way higher. Chief has to turn and finesse the front wheels, coaxing the vehicle forward centimeter by centimeter and occasionally having to pull back and re-do an angle. He’s getting them there. The Warthog hates it. Esparza wonders how far the sounds of its unhappy engine will carry, and how close they are to the Jackals.

They clear the rocks and sit for a moment, four tires on the ground again while the whole Warthog leans to the left on the slope. Chief tips his head toward the way they came, a silent see?

“Showoff,” Esparza acknowledges. Chief answers by accelerating so hard out of the stop that Esparza rocks backward into his seat with a startled shout and has to hold on with both hands. This time, despite himself, he does laugh.

“Look sharp. We’re getting close.”

“Is there a plan yet?”

“The plan’s get closer.”

The Warthog kicks small stones and tufts of shallowly-rooted grass down the slope behind them. Chief keeps it close to the belly of the sheer hexagonal cliff face they’re now running alongside. He’s cutting off as many high vantage points as possible. When he notices that, it makes something in Esparza’s belly tense.

The Chief finds a place to tuck them into a combination of cliff shadow and overhead tree cover. He makes a wait - quiet gesture to Esparza. Esparza busies himself for a couple of seconds by noticing how far uphill they’ve gone, and how going back down all of that could be really really bad. It’s a shame he has to think this kind of thing about Zeta Halo, and it’s a shame that Zeta Halo feels like a deathtrap that is singularly hostile to their existence. If it weren’t for that unfortunate detail, the greens, blues, and silvers of the shimmering ring-arc horizon really would be beautiful.

Chief taps him, and wordlessly presses the weight of the Mk50 Sidekick into his hand.

“Plan?” Esparza whispers.

“Stay here.”

The Chief unfolds himself from the driver’s seat and out of the Warthog, unlimbers his rifle, and scouts ahead.

Esparza always hates it when he’s alone to wait, and he especially hates being in the Warthog for it. At least the Pelican is spaceworthy, protected from all sides. He sighs, uses his free hand to grab the top bar that keeps rolling from cracking the windshield, and pulls himself up to climb over into the driver’s seat. Esparza can fire that pistol if he has to, but Esparza also understands where his areas of competency actually are.

It’s all quiet upstairs. He doesn’t hear the Chief (unsurprising) but also doesn’t hear the sounds of a whole pack of Jackals trying to kill the Chief (good.) It’s even more excruciating to hear nothing from the Chief and the AI when he knows the Chief’s in the middle of actively avoiding being killed.

When the tall green figure with the golden visor drops down the cliff edge to land beside the Warthog again, Esparza does a very good job not yelling but it is a near thing and he does startle halfway across the vehicle again. The Chief pauses, notes the change of seat to the driver’s side, and nods in approval as he steps back toward the Warthog’s bed and then steps up into it.

There are so many questions Esparza wants to ask him. How close are they? How many are there? How’s the Pelican? Chief, what’s the plan? But he’s worried maybe they’re too close, maybe he can’t say anything. Is the Chief taking the LAAG off the Warthog the quiet way because he has the luxury of time for once, or is it because he needs to?

Esparza collects himself and holds the gun and waits, focusing on his nervous heart and trying to keep his breathing slow. The Chief pulls the heavy gun off and Esparza can feel the Warthog perk up once freed from under a half ton of Spartan-II and — he doesn’t remember the weight of the M46 LAAG offhand. Sue him.

“Wait until all clear,” says the Chief as he carries the chain gun past Esparza, steps heavy with purpose and massive firepower. This is, apparently, the plan at last.

“Can do.”

This time, Esparza hears so much. Most of it is the chain gun. Some of it is Jackals. None of it is the Chief himself. Esparza doesn’t know how long it takes, but he does know that whatever his perception of time is here is going to be trash from all the adrenaline. Something falls from overhead and he barely manages to track it with the pistol as it hits the dirt.

Esparza stares down the barrel at a somewhat dazed Jackal. Wide, slit-pupiled yellow eyes stare back at him up a long, toothy snout, the quills at the crown of the Kig-Yar’s head are up and splayed out in agitation. Even a neutral expression on one of the aliens looks frightening to a human, teeth exposed in a resting snarl and long-sighted eyes set fixed like a raptor’s.

The Jackal is unarmed, unhelmeted, and is now bleeding from a cut on its shoulder. It has to be at least bruised from that fall. Has Esparza ever seen a Jackal afraid?

The alien reacts quicker than he does and launches itself, not at him but down slope. It avoids the way the Chief and Esparza took for the Warthog, gunning for the steeper face that has more plant cover over the uneven earth and stone. Esparza sees it slip, slide and roll in a way that looks painful before it’s up again, running, and gone completely.

Jackal. Kig-Yar. Pirate. Mercenary. Does a Jackal feel shame for cowardice? Is there a reason for one to?

Esparza realizes he’s been holding his breath and stops. He points the gun to the last spot he saw the Jackal and listens for the last sounds of the battle up the cliff to die.

The Chief returns with the LAAG, relaxed and in control, looking exactly as he did when he left.

“Clear?”

“Clear!” It’s the Weapon who replies. “Those Jackals are definitely going to think twice about trying to steal our Pelican again!” She pauses. “Well. Different Jackals. If they hear about this. Because these ones won’t be thinking anything anymore.”

Esparza snorts and shakes his head while the Chief bolts the chain gun back into its mount. The Spartan hops down from the bed and stops still, looking up toward Esparza, hesitating. He might be trying to decide what to say. Esparza arches his brows.

“Oh, get in. I can drive.”

The Chief comes up the right side of the Warthog and climbs in the passenger’s side. Esparza passes the Sidekick back to him, and drives the rest of the way up to the Pelican. It is an uneventful and smooth climb, and there are no giant rocks.

[railmerosalie]

Okay let's get something straight, i wrote this during a 10 hour car ride. Not proof read we die like tributes. @mystargirl-interlude i hope this isn't too shit my dear.

Peeta is mostly a soft dom y'all, I will die on this hill. Now we all know he's a smooth talker and my god does that extend to the bedroom. "Shhh pretty girl, keep your eyes on me" , "just like that angel, you feel so good". This man will praise anything you do, sometimes he will just babble out words like 's-so good' even if he's doing all the work. Would 1000% stroke your cheek with his thumb while moaning in your ear. Has a thing for hair pulling, either yours or his own, he doesn't care. Speaking of hair, he would softly brush yours out and braid it during aftercare, you don't ask him too, he just wants too :)

Holds your hands while ramming into you while in missionary. Wants you to mark him, to have good memories associated with his scars. While this man is a soft dom he will put you in your place, however, he hates the idea of hurting you/causing you pain. He would hold your arms around your back in a soft grip while rocking into you slowly, "hmmmm, what happened to my good girl?". You could try and struggle against him, to make him move faster, but good luck, he'll maneuver you as easily as a sack of flour.

Eye contact !!! Loves seeing your pupils dilate when he hits that certain spot. He also finds it reassuring, it keeps him grounded. Now dont get me wrong, he lovvves getting his dick sucked, but there's something about eating you out that really gets him going. I think it's despite being a baker, he's never tasted something as sweet and addicting as you. He's a pussy pleaser idk what else to say 🤷🏻‍♀️.

He loves drawing you naked. You guys would be relaxing in a field, you reading while he scribbles away. At first you think he's drawing the wild flowers you're sitting in, peaking over to see that he's drawn your torso, tits and neck with one hand wrapped around your waist and the other at the base of your throat. Despite the dirty image he somehow makes you look angelic. If he gets up before you he'll leave them on the kitchen table along with a fresh pastry from that morning's batch, and a note telling you how beautiful you are <3

He LOVES manhandling you, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder or carrying you bridal style while hugging you to his chest. Will hold up your entire bodyweight while jack hammering into you. Speaking of manhandling, he would hold your writhing body against his as he fingers you.

His chest is super sensitive, something as simple as softly dragging your nails across his skin would make him moan. If you licked his nipples he would start to whimper, now pair that with covering him in hickeys and a handjob, he would cum soo fast. If you were to smack his ass in a causal show of dominance he would blush. Oh and he likes holding your tits, no matter how big or small they are (they're just soo warm) either his hands or face always seem to find them.

His prosthetic leg gives him more trouble than he lets on. So for the love of Christ make the poor boy comfortable and take it off while riding him. It means he can focus just on you without the pinching on his thigh.

Okay i need sleep

[yeehawbvby]

When the Moon Fell in Love With the Sun | Ch. 10

March x F!Farmer

Rating: Mature/Explicit (eventual smut)

Chapter Summary: March's birthday/some pre-Spring Festival shenanigans!

Author’s Note: Another obligatory "idk what type of technology exists and what doesn't" (my HC is that anything does, it would be, like, 90s-00s level stuff? Maybe?), alongside an obligatory "I know gold isn't in the game yet, I just thought it would give the scene it’s in some more oomph."

Hope y'all had a wonderful Halloween and that you enjoy this chapter :3

Table of Contents + Work Summary

Check it out on ao3!

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With the Spring Festival on its way, most of Mistria’s residents could be seen scrambling around in search of Breath of Spring flowers.

Those who often spent their time indoors such as the innkeepers and store owners often took to foraging, to keep things laxed while still giving it a fair chance. Ryis and Landen engaged in their typical work, finding flowers amongst the bushy leaves of the trees and bushes they chopped. The Dragonguard would lift rocks (which meant Luc often, to his excitement, found some new bug friends in the process), scoop up sea shells to peek into, and even clamor into the shallow ends of the river in hopes of finding some stray petals flowing through the water. 

December went on with her days as usual, finding plenty of flowers passively, just as she had done her first year in Mistria. March, on the other hand, would nonchalantly keep an eye on the areas near his workstation by day, and head into the narrows or mines to hit them out of some rocks by night. He wanted to win – his ego was on the line, after all – but there was no way in hell he’d allow the others to see it.

Olric once told the farmer that the only thing his brother hated more than birthdays themselves was being ignored on his birthday, especially with the event that took place immediately after. He couldn’t stand feeling overshadowed by the town’s “made up holiday,” as he had brutally dubbed it. That said, when March’s birthday came this year, December wanted to find that fine line for celebrating him where he would feel loved and important, but he wouldn’t get overwhelmed either.

So, she approached the grumpy birthday boy on her way to the mines with two mochas in hand, some sandwiches in her backpack – two to share with March now, and a third for later, when she’d need an extra boost – and a small gift, which was nestled safely under her arm and wrapped in red cloth.

“Goooood morning,” December grinned as she approached the anvil. 

She thought the cheery sing-song tone in her voice would annoy March a considerable but safe amount, so she was surprised to see how calm his face fell when he looked up at her. 

He couldn’t place his finger on why he was so relieved to see her. It wasn’t like his birthday was different from any other day, he lied to himself before wondering why this felt different.

Well, it was his first birthday in a long time with a partner. Maybe that was doing something to him.

He sighed, “Hey,” wiping the sweat from his forehead and placing his hammer down. 

The wall December tended to rest her things against had become the couple’s designated break spot too. When the farmer visited the forge, both in the far past and as they grew closer, they’d oftentimes find themselves leaning or sitting against the stone while they chatted and replenished their energy. Today was no different. Once they were in place, March took both coffees from December’s grasp so she could set down her bag. 

“Thanks,” she said, taking her own mocha back before handing March the present, “aaand happy birthday.” He glared at her. “What?” “Did Olric put you up to this?” “Why the hell would I need Olric to tell me to give you a birthday present?”

March’s eyes narrowed further, but he didn’t make any further accusations, instead taking a sip from his coffee. “Well, thanks.”

“‘Course.” December held out her hand to take March’s drink again so that he could open it.

Taking a quick note at the fabric, which matched his hair almost perfectly, he wondered if December had done that on purpose or not. 

She did. She specifically asked Louis if he could fold a piece into the dress she purchased a few weeks prior. 

March’s eyes widened as he unwrapped from said fabric the most perfect gold ore he’d ever seen. It was shinier than even the highest quality ingots he’d casted, it looked dense, and gods, he couldn’t wait to work with it. He almost didn’t even want to, it was so beautiful. The chunks of perfect ore in the museum — which he’d already been impressed by, and admittedly was even more so upon hearing who their donor was — couldn’t compare. 

March always had a bit of a natural flush to his complexion, but there was something about how it seemed to stand out more when he grinned this time that made December’s heart skip. He wasn’t necessarily blushing, but his face looked brighter. And while March pored over the metal in his hand, December observed the liveliness in his smile, making his dark eyes shine like onyx in the sunlight. The way his teeth ran a little yellowed — probably from all that coffee and chocolate consumption — and slightly crooked between his smooth lips. The softer look of his bare arms while he let himself relax his muscles, which he rarely did around people. The angle and shape of his perfectly groomed, thick eyebrows, sitting above his equally thick eyelashes…

March looked up, meeting December’s blatant stare with a beaming grin. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen him look so sincerely, wholeheartedly happy without alcohol in his system, or a laugh blossoming from his throat. He didn’t even tease her for ogling. 

“How do you even find these?”

She shrugged nonchalantly, “I guess I have an eye for it.”

March rolled his eyes. “Or you’re just lucky to be good at everything.”

“Jealousy makes you look silly.”

“Well, you always look silly.”

December stuck out her tongue at him. March wanted so badly to shove it away with a kiss, but with Errol and Eiland walking past and waving their greetings to the two, he didn’t want to risk any more gossip being thrown around. 

So he glared at them. Eiland remained blissfully unaware and continued to ramble, fiddling with the Breath of Spring fashionably tucked behind his ear for safe keeping; meanwhile, the old curator silently wondered what he’d done to deserve the harsh glance. He knew March was a grump, but jeez, he thought to himself. He frowned while nodding along, still listening to Eiland as they disappeared into the narrows.

March went on, his eyes back on the ore in his hands, “Well…” he directed his sight to December’s again, “thanks.”

“Mhm,” she passively welcomed him as she placed the March’s coffee back in his free hand and bent down to dig through her backpack. She then pulled out a sandwich wrapped in parchment paper and placed it atop his cup. With a more formal tone akin to Adeline and Eiland’s, she added, “And your humble birthday breakfast, my liege.”

March moved to place his gift down on the anvil, and then took his seat in the grass, saying, “Your liege, huh?” 

December nodded, joining him. March’s face looked pink, but smug. “What?”

“I can get used to that.”

The farmer rolled her eyes, then playfully nudged him, “Well don’t.”

__

Once March finished up his work for the day, he decided to set out for the mines. December would probably still be there, but he knew she usually kept to the lower levels now that she had upgraded tools. If he went shallow, he wouldn’t risk running into her.

Or so he thought.

The first thing he saw when stepping off of the wooden, makeshift elevator was December’s pale eyes, wide and confused while she hit the finishing blow on a rock in her path. His expression was no different.

As she opened her mouth to question his presence, a small, slimy creature launched itself onto her cheek. “Eugh!” she expressed her disgust. 

Those guys were never very strong to begin with, but they didn’t hurt her much at all now that she was used to their stronger brethren in the tide caverns and onward. If she was going to be hit by anyone, she’d rather it be them — but she’d never get used to their cold, sticky, and almost slug-like texture. She ripped her assailant off of her face and flung it into a nearby chasm, promptly wiping her gloved hand on her pants.

“What,” she breathed, shifting her headphones to her neck and pausing her mp3, “the fuck are you doing here?”

March’s brain scrambled for a moment, before he deflected, tilting his chin up and narrowing his eyes, “I could ask you the same.”

December matched his posture, placing the hand on her hip for added effect. “I figured I’d search some of the safer floors for more flowers before heading out.” She took a few steps forward to meet him, then egged him on as she pieced together that he was probably doing more or less the same, “Your turn, pretty boy.” 

March flustered a little at the name she gave him and the tone in which she spoke. It wasn’t intentionally sexy, but he wouldn’t have known any better until she told him directly. His eyes widened from their accusatory squint to their normal shape on their own volition as he muttered, “P-pretty boy?” December nodded curtly, blind to her partner’s inner turmoil. 

The blacksmith took a second to just breathe. He couldn't go and get all riled up over something so simple, what with them being several dozen feet underground…

Or could he?

Imagery of December’s soft touch and supple skin standing out in contrast to the rough walls and caverns of the mines came and went through him in a flash.

He mentally scolded himself and shook his thoughts away. December wondered what the sudden movement was for, but didn’t question it. 

Next, March realized he wouldn’t be too embarrassed if she knew why he was down here. Knowing her, she was probably just excited for the competition. Realistically, they both were.

So, March decided, if she’s going to (accidentally) use words to try to distract and destroy him, why shouldn’t he do the same? He resumed his glare and rolled his neck and shoulders, before removing his pickaxe from its spot on his backpack. 

Then, he lilted, “We both know why I’m here,” tilting his head slightly down and her chin up to level their gazes. “So be a good little angel and get out of my w—“

A tiny monster almost identical to the one that had collided with December’s cheek just moments ago did the same to March. His eyes rolled shut and chewed his bottom lip while he otherwise froze in place, wondering, why do these things even exist?

He was positively malding.

December bit her own lip, failing to suppress her laughter as her shoulders and chest shook, shaky breaths coming out of her nose. She had to admit to herself that his plan almost worked. 

Almost.

While March removed that thing from his profile, December walked past, patting him on the shoulder. “Nice try,” she teased, before moving onto the next vein of copper she spotted.

March tossed the creature into the same chasm December had banished her own to before meeting up with her. He lightly bumped her hip with his to scoot her over and started to pick at the same ore.

“Nuh-uh,” the farmer laughed incredulously, “Go find your own rocks to hit.” 

March’s answer was all too nonchalant. “I want this one.”

December cursed under her breath. “Brat…”

She hip bumped him in return before getting back to work, accepting that she couldn’t budge him. Given the strength of their tools, it only took a few more hits each for the mineral, as well as some softer chunks nearby, to crumble. 

Lo and behold, a Breath of Spring appeared atop the rubble. 

The pair froze. For a short few beats, the only sounds to be heard were the soft chirping and pitter-pattering of cave bugs, the faint squelches and clacks and puffs of noxious air from the monsters that lurked below, and the occasional drips of the stalactites around them, their breaths firmly bated while they waited to see who would make the first move.

It didn’t take long for March to grow impatient, though. “…Mine.” 

As he reached for it, December practically tackled him. “No!” she exclaimed, using her last ounce of energy to shove her body into March’s line of sight and jumping forward, abandoning her pickaxe in favor of clinging to him like a feral koala.

“For fuck’s sake—” He stumbled in an attempt to keep upright, wrapping his arms around her and placing a palm to the back of her head for protection, in case they fell. “Are you stupid?!” he asked once they were stable.

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” December didn’t budge. “Are you gonna move?”

“Will you take that flower if I do?”

“Obviously.”

“Then no.”

March sighed. She was light enough, he thought. He could work with this. “Hold on tight,” he warned, his smile sly while he crouched down and reached for the prize.

“No!” December jerked her head to peek behind her, her ponytail whipping around March and lightly slapping his opposite eye, to which he thought with a wink, ouch. “Wait—”

To her dismay, the flower was already in March’s hand.

“Too late, pretty girl,” he whispered into her ear. He pressed his lips just below it with a lingering peck for added measure.

Inhaling deeply, swallowing hard, and squeezing March harder, December understood why he reacted the way he had to her own words earlier. 

She slowly turned towards him, her hair tickling his shoulder as it drifted back to its rightful space behind her. He was already looking at her, so their noses were nearly touching when March noticed how his partner’s pupils had engulfed the blue of her eyes in a veil of black, like a whale lurking beneath an arctic ocean’s surface; and as his resolve began to weaken, and the urge to kiss her everywhere he could possibly reach strengthened, he wondered if they really needed these flowers.

“That’s not fair,” December grumbled. 

“What’s not fair is that you’re still attached to me.”

Without a sliver of remorse in sight, she plainly commented, “Hm. What a shame.” She leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth, and then his jaw, before trailing a few more down his neck, purring, “Give me the flower, March, please.”

He held his breath, contemplating the entirety of his life leading up to this point; and with a strain in his voice that hadn’t gone unnoticed by his parasite, he boldly refused, “Never in a million years.”

__

The blacksmith’s resilience paid off. The next morning, the results came through as follows:

Celine in first place, obviously,

March in second,

and finally, a sad, grumpy December in third.

[iamawrittensentence]

i think a lot about how when you're a child growing up in the kind of church I did, the expectation of performance is inseparable from the act itself. and how when you're supposed to hate yourself in order to be loved. like. the idea is that god hates you(r sin), and that he can't *not* hate like that due to his nature. and that you have to change or fight your nature in order to be in his grace. but the idea is not two-sided. the idea that god should or even *could* change isn't even thought of. you have to enter the headspace of god to be loved by him. so you spend every service waiting for the holy spirit to strike, waiting for it to split you open and lay you bare at the altar. screaming and crying is the sound of god of god loving you. the closest you can be to him is when you're broken, incoherent and writhing. and you learn to chase that feeling. but that's predicated on a feeling of safety, of familiarity, of accountability to the other members of the church.

what do you do when you move at 11? every tie severed at once. your grandmother, who was the model for love in your life, the model for *god,* now 999 miles away. you left your*self* 999 miles away. of course, we try again. this is our chance for a new start! all the opportunities we've regaled you with are now right in front of you. take them! take them! take them! come on- take them! listen, you just have to apply yourself. I *know* you're smarter than this, you just have to put the work in.

what happened to the son I knew? you used to be so sweet. I miss the sweeter version of you. the ways in which you are changing are not acceptable, please try again.

We found a church that we wanna try. I promise it'll be like it used to be, you just have to try. come on- we're trying so hard, why cant you just meet us halfway? there's the son I love, keep the big smile!!

its not the same though. it's been almost a year in the new place and you are alone. there feels like a barrier between y'all -*did you just say y'all?* and the world you've landed in. children run in circles in the youth room, playing games you've never heard of. none of these people feel real to you. everything here is so plastic and structured, and you've never seen a church that looks like a school. never been in a church that required a PA system and jumbo screens to see and hear the preacher. lyrics play onscreen as the band plays top 50 christian hits.

you search for the rock hammer typically provided by these spaces and find yourself tool-less. how can this glorified auditorium hold god? they're trying too hard to find him, you think. it feels like they're trying to bring him into the room, but god rushes up behind you when you're vulnerable and tears you open in front of everyone. a divine experience involves pulsing and bleeding, unable to bear the world through the eyes of god, and a team of people to nurse you back to humanity. there is none of that here.

you feel like a failure. you've felt god before, why can't you now? everyone else can. just try, okay? I *know* you're holier than this. where's the son I used to know? You used to be so pious. that's better, big smiles!

you learn that feeling it isn't as important as *doing* it. no one else around you can tell what's going on in your mind, and god doesn't seem interested in snitching. maybe if you go ahead and cry it'll be easier to do it for real next time. you walk into the sanctuary every day with a mix of anticipation, fear, and guilt.

maybe this time I'll be close enough to feel god. do I need to sing louder? are my arms perpendicular enough to the floor? if I reach higher, will I feel him brush my fingertips? maybe I need to memorize the songs. after all, this is the music good christians listen to. maybe if you learn to love the music, you'll love god better. maybe then he'll answer. after all, you love music, so you must just hate god if these songs aren't doing it for you.

it's been years since you've bled in church naturally. you learn to bring your own rock hammer. to break yourself apart on what little of god you have managed to stash away here. no one can know. god belongs in church, and outsourcing is strictly forbidden. so make sure the wounds match. these people are bloodspatter experts. and if you cant match the wounds, cant copy the spatter, well it's an easy fix, really. pulp yourself and paint the scene so thoroughly the only possible conclusion is that you are wounded, wounded, wounded. if you bleed *enough*, no one will bother checking *how* you're bleeding.

or where.

another 999 miles later and you've learned to take it as a given that you're a fraud. maybe one day you'll really get serious and devote yourself to god, but you haven't, so you cant. you're so scarred you can no longer find easy flesh to pierce. every vulnerable part of you has been repeatedly shredded in order to show god your insides. *see, I'm still human! I still bleed for you!* you find that your skull is now used to his rock hammer. it no longer makes the beautiful spatters that made you feel so close to him. the pain is dull, and the blood flows weakly, so much lost you can no longer even bleed.

another church. you continue to throw yourself against the stones, but it feels even more performative now. every room you found god in is now impossibly far away. there is 17 years of distance between you and the living room. maybe one day you'll get serious and devote yourself to your family. two weeks and 45 minutes at a time stands between you and god. you decided to store him there instead of lugging him back and forth just to sit in your room. you keep buying bibles, hoping one will be able to hold him.

you have no idea how happy it makes me that you're reading your bible. actually, I should look at the churches around here, we could go together!

you stop reading your Bible. that stop asking you about it. you stop singing in church. no one notices. you stop begging god to make you love him. and he does.

what now? you find that god is still there, less demanding but no more yielding. it's your turn to sneak up behind him. split him open and inspect his innards. *see how this part bleeds? it's because you didn't honor Me. see how you don't *stop* bleeding? that's because you love Me. you were made to. I Created you in my image.* if the roles were reversed he would relish in this. but it brings you no joy. you thought it would, thought that being able to inflict yourself upon him would make you feel whole again. but consuming just passes it through you. unfortunately, you have to build yourself. you don't even have an Other to build yourself against.

You learn that reacting will never substantiate you, only preserve. you learn to work towards what you want, not run from what you don't. and you learn to stop bleeding yourself to find what runs you, and instead simply... asking. you are still covered in blood.

[bee-birb]

compiled my thoughts whilst watching sonic prime s3, shes a doozy

WATCHING IT

he ate shit again :3

AHHHH THEY HELD HANDS (for half a second to propel forward) BUT STILL

shadow COUGHING??? he can get HURT??? nah he just fell

HE ATE SHIT AGAIN I LOVE THIS SONIC

🎶there goes hawaii, there-ere goes hawaii🎵 🎵there goes hawaii, the island is gone🎶

THE FIGHT CHOREOGRAPHY IS GORGEOUS

THE LITTLE DETAILS AHHHH LIKE TEHIR EYES MOVING AND EARS AND SHADOWS CHEST FUR MOVES WHEN HE BREATHES AHHHH SO GOOD

BIRDIE GO BRRRR

times sonic has eaten shit this season: 4

nine: “i hate chili dogs!” sonic: dramatic and wounded gasp

I need to get this off my chest why does sonic slap his ass as a taunt ive seen it in prime and ive seen in in x, this is a recurring theme and i am wtfing at it, why does sonic have a thing for smackin his ass as a taunt? idk but its fuckin hilarious, your ass is not that juicy it is not tempting, save the ass slapping for the bedroom you blue gumball son of a bitch, Sonic you have flat ass syndrome stop

DYING ONE OF THE BIGS JUST GOT SPINDASHED AND LOST HIS MEMORY AND STARTED TALKING BRITISH THIS WAS NEVER RESOLVED WHAT THE FUCK, DAMNIT NOW I HAVE TO HATE PIRATE BIG CUZ HES FUCKIN BRITISH

GIANT BIG HAHAHAHAHA GIANT BIG ROBOT SOBS HES JUST A GUY HE DOESNT DESERVE TO BE MADE A ROBOT DOUBLE WHO SHITS FROGGIE NUKES

where the FUCK is sonics boyfriend you cant hide in the crater the entire climax battle dumbass getchyo gay striped glutes out here and save you bf

bro got hit with a bomb and SURVIVED

SCREAMS AT THE GAY IDIOTS IN THE CREVICE DOING GAY SHIT LIKE SMASHING EACH OTHER GAYYYY

LMAO SHADOW ACTUALLY SMILED, granted, he was talking about “smashing hordes of sonics” (probably about destroying them but it was offcamera so we’ll never know) IT WAS SO CUTE

i also need 4 rocks, 80 ft of vine, and a time machine

times sonic has eaten shit this season: 6

the gang is not impressed by sonics bf

there goes hawaii, there-there goes hawaii, there goes hawaii, the island is gone pt 2

gonna draw this stupidhead 🫶

THE LIL NODS I AM SCREAMING

me when 6 identical copies of me attack my boyfriend (its kinda hot)

"AAAAAHHAAAHHAAAA! aaaahhhaaaahhh! splat."

YUHHH STEP ON YOUR BOYFRIEND AGAIN thats like what the 4th time???

renegade knux makes the best faces ngl like his expressions are top tier

shadow has not been onscreen in 10 minutes give me more of the edgy swifty, THE KING HAS RETURNED

SHADOW NODDING WHEN SONIC SACRIFICES HIMSELF HE KNOWS AHHHHH THE FUCKING NODS I AM SCREAMING THEY ARE COMMUNICATING WITHOUT WORDS LOSING MY MARBLES GOING KOOKY SCREAMING

OMGOMGOMG WHEN SONIC IS SAYING HOW HES GONNA SACRIFICE HIMSELF AND HE SAYS "If I do this" AND SHADOWS FISTS TIGHTEN HE CARES IM NOT CRAZY BUT IM SURE NOT NORMAL

CRYING he still has a smile as hes going to fucking DIE AHHHHH SCREAMING

ahhh the gateways are the shape of the shards

HE FUCKING SMILES AS HES ABOUT TO GET THE LIFE SUCKED OUT OF HIM HIS LITERAL GLUE HOLDING HIS ATOMS TOGETHER WILL BE SLURPED LIKE SPAGHETTI THROUGH A STRAW AND THIS INSUFFERABLE SELF SACRIFICING IDIOT IS SMILING IM GOING TO COMMIT SEVERAL WAR CRIMES

HIS FISTS TIGHTEN AGAIN WHEN THE MACHINE TURNS ON IM LOSING MY GRIP ON REALITY

AHHHHHHHHH THE FUCKING DROOP THE REACH SCREAMS IN AGONY THE HOPE IN HIS EYES AND HOW HE REACHES UP TO HELP- HE DROPS IT HIS EARS DROOP HES SAD AND LOSES LIGHT AND HIS EYES OH HIS EYES SPEAK MULTITUDES

old man soccer

HE STAYS BEHIND WHILE THE RESISTANCE FIGHTS THE CC SO HE CAN MAKE SURE SONIC DOESNT EAT SHIT WHILE HES BREAKING APART AT THE SEAMS

gay ass hand on hip side lean, fucking queer

OMGGGGG RUSTY KEPT THE GRIM ROSE HAMMER CACKLES SHE WILL BECOME AN EVEN BETTER WEAPON OF MASS DESTRUCTION

HIS FISTSSSSS THEY CLENCH WHEN SONIC IS LIKE DYING ON THE SHIPPPP

hA the sisters rose are FAILING now his bf gets to save his blue gumball ass

HE LOOKS SO SAD WHEN SONIC FAINTS GEDGIYFVJITWSGHIFE

BRO IS FUCKING TRANSPARENT SIR WHO GAVE YOU THE PERMISSION TO BE SO LOW OPACITY YOUR ATOMS ARE SLINGING AWAY FROM YOUR CONSCIOUSNESS FASTER THAN IF YOU WERE RADON YOU SELF DESTRUCTIVE IMBECILE

THE FUCKING NODS I CANTTTTTT

SONIC SMILES HES SO HAPPY TO SEE SHADS ON THE PRISM

lol rock gone get rekt eggbreath

HE DOES LITTKE EAR WIGGLES AHHH SO CUTE

you have 13 seconds before the island fucking explodes you hot topic wannabe and you blue gumball son of a bitch. you have done nothing but destroy my life, i hope you both die.

SCREAMS IT IS BEAUTIFUL EXCELLENT ENDING 10/10 WHERE THE FUCK DID SHADOW GO WITH THE THING IDC ITS BEAUTIFUL CRYING WHERES MY FANFIC

[jadedandconfusedao3]

A Fool of His Guard

Draco looked up at the townhouse with consternation. The last time he had been here his entire world had crashed around him. He found out, that he really had been sleeping with Hermione Granger, and that she had wished for him to become her sex partner. It was more than a little daunting. He dragged in a ragged breath and stepped through the wards and walked up to the door before knocking loudly.

Hermione opened the door with a scowl on her face. She was wearing leggings and a large, oversized jumper that only just covered her arse. Her normally insane hair was caught up behind her head in a loose messy bun she had stuck her wand through. To Draco, in that moment, she looked like all his dreams made flesh.

“Hi,” he breathed.

She crossed her arms across her chest and glared down at him.

“You have some nerve.”

He let out the breath he’d been holding and took a step closer. She was standing above him at the top of the stoop looking for all intents and purposes like a righteous vigilante. He was both attracted and terrified as his heart hammered inside his chest.

“We need to talk.” He tilted his head and widened his eyes as he tried to look earnest.

She sniffed and raised her chin. “What if I don’t want to talk to you?”

“Then, I’ll beg,” he admitted immediately. “I will get on my knees and worship you. I’ll plead. I’ll whimper. I’ll debase myself for your amusement. At the very least I’ll stay here until you do.”

Her breath caught, and she hesitated for a long time. He had almost convinced himself that this was a complete waste of time when she stepped back and gestured for him to go inside. The situation was eerily similar to his previous visit, as he headed into the small sitting room. It hadn’t changed much. The atmosphere was still overly warm with every surface piled high with books. She closed the door and followed him, before settling into one of the armchairs, legs curled up underneath her. He followed her lead and sat down in the opposite chair.

“So,” she prompted. “Talk.”

“I made another wish,” he confessed, leaning forward to wring his hands together.

She instantly rolled her eyes. “You absolute moron. Didn’t I warn you not to make any more? There’s no telling what they actually do before you make them. I take it you want my help sorting this mess out?”

He looked up at her.

“No.”

“No?” Hermione’s tone was bewildered. “But what about Astoria?”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “What happened with Astoria is a tragedy but I’m afraid that if we try and fix it, it will just make things worse. Every wish ends up drastically different to what I intended but as it is right now,” he paused, immediately hating himself for the words he was about to say. “I can live with this current reality. It’s not ideal, but it’s better than some of the other I’ve seen.”

“What happened with your latest wish?” Her eyebrows turned down into a frown.

Draco barked out a bitter laugh. “I wished that my father was more heroic. So instead of making Lucius Malfoy a good person, Varek chose a reality where he died after the war and married my mother off to Harry Potter.” The last words were practically spat with vitriol.

Hermione reacted as though she were caught in an Arresto Momentum. Her eyes grew wide as her mouth dropped open. She rocked in her chair until she hit the back of it before leaning forward again.

“WHAT!?” She shrieked. “Harry? My Harry? And your mother? Narcissa Malfoy?”

Draco nodded glumly.

Hermione stood and started to pace the room. “I mean I suppose he does love taking care of people.” She held her fingers out as she ticked off reasons. “And he was very taken by her after the trial. Oh, and of course he was always a little moved that she saved him in the first place. He’s been so lonely these past few years.” She held her head in her hands. “God, it makes an awful kind of sense.”

Draco watched her pace and got up to place his hands on her arms. She stopped and looked up at him, her monologue halted short. Her lips were slightly parted, and he couldn’t help but remember the last time he had kissed them. When they had lain together connected as one. His want for her threatened to overflow and push him forward. Yes. This felt right.

“Why are you so calm about this?” she asked.

“Because even though what Varek has done is terrible–even though the world is now irrevocably changed as a consequence of my actions–it has given me something I never would have imagined was possible,” he murmured, rubbing her arms with his thumbs.

“What?” she asked in confusion.

“A possible future with you.” He let one hand rise up to skirt along her jaw. She was so close. If he lowered his head, he could kiss her and then maybe it would fix everything. She could take all the shattered pieces of his soul and put them back together kiss by kiss.

Read the rest on Ao3

[eternalchiyo]

𝔼𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕊𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕜 ~𝔻𝔸ℝ𝕂 04~

Summary: Chiyo snaps.

Word Count: 2360

She was floating in nothingness. Heavy fog surrounded her. There was no ground below her feet and yet she tried to take a step forward, what other option would she have anyway? Chiyo took a few steps, but it did not seem like she was moving forward at all.

What was this place?

The thick fog made it hard for her to see, but she felt as if she wasn’t alone. An unsettling feeling creeped over her, but her feet dragged her into a certain direction. It was as if something called for her.

“You finally came,” a feminine voice said.

“Who’s there?!” Chiyo tried to cry out, but the sound of her voice came out muffled.

Suddenly she saw a faint silhouette of what she assumed was the woman that called out to her before.

“You’ve finally come,” the woman’s arms reached forward and her hands cupped Chiyo’s face, “my Lilith.” The touch felt so familiar for some reason.

“Lilith…” the woman said, “why did you leave Adam?”

Chiyo’s eyes widened. There was no way, could it really be? She wanted to say something, call out to the woman in front of her, but there was no voice coming out.

Soon enough, she was alone in the foggy darkness again.

Rocking back and forth, back and forth. Like a baby in a cradle.

It had been a while since Chiyo felt so warm. She wanted to stay there forever, wherever this place was. But where was she? And what was this familiar scent?

Lavender and honey.

Shuu.

Chiyo moved her head slowly, the terrible headache starting to become more prominent. It must have been from before when she hit her head. She opened her eyes and saw his broad shoulders in front of her.

Was he carrying her?

Groaning softly, she rested her chin on his shoulder, messy blond locks tickled her cheek. He didn’t react.

“What happened?” she asked.

Her voice was groggy, and her head increasingly felt like someone has been pounding at it with a massive hammer for hours on end. She could see some of the other’s walking along the forest path in front of them.

“The limousine crashed,” Shuu said.

So, they were walking home? Chiyo leaned more into Shuu and closed her eyes again. She needed a little bit more rest and even though she knew she shouldn’t, she still couldn’t help but enjoy being this close to him. Just for a little while longer, she thought. Just for a little while she wanted to pretend that nothing bad ever happened between them; that everything was fine.

She couldn’t help but destroy the illusion.

“Why did you kiss her?”

Shuu stopped abruptly in his tracks.

“Get off.”

“What– “

“I said get off, are you deaf?”

Reluctantly, she complied.

Her legs felt wobbly against the ground, but Shuu did not seem to care and continued to walk ahead of her.

“Wait,” Chiyo said.

Shuu turned around. He was annoyed, she could clearly see it on his face. The way he looked at her practically screamed to carry on speaking already.

“Don’t you think it’s enough already?”

Her voice strained, trying to keep herself composed. She really did not want to cry in front of him and she clung onto that resolution desperately. How long did he intend to keep on going like this? Clearly neither of them was happy.

“Don’t you think you have proven your point enough?” she said, “I understand, you hate me, so stop it already.”

“Prove a point?” he huffed, “There is no point to prove. I could not care less about you.”

Lies.

Chiyo took in a deep breath. This was all too much for her to handle.

“Then why? Why do you keep on hurting me on purpose?!”

It was horrible having to admit that what he did actually hurt her. But how was she supposed to go on? There was no way she could go on living with him when he kept doing this to her. The whole thing seemed like a sick and twisted joke.

Her voice came out louder than she intended and made the others, who were already further ahead of them, turn around to see what was going on.

Shuu was taken aback but the girl did not leave him any time to react.

“Why did you show up to save me when I was being attacked, only to push me away moments after?! Why do you kiss others in front of my eyes?! Why do you do with my body as you please and then pretend nothing ever happened?! Yes, you’re so indifferent, aren’t you?!”

There was exactly one thing Chiyo hated about Shuu, and it was how he always pretended he didn’t care about anything. Her face felt hot, angry tears streaming down her cheeks, her resolution not to cry in front of him long forgotten. Out of breath from yelling all the things she kept inside her for so long, she looked up at him. Seemingly unfazed, he stood in front of her.

“Get off your high horse already. I don’t care about you in the least anymore,” he said. His voice seemed calm. Forcibly disinterested; she did not buy it.

“You’re such a bad liar,” Chiyo said in disbelief, “you can’t even look me in the eyes when you say that.”

“Do you think I owe you anything?” he made a step forward, glaring at her. “You’re the one coming here suddenly, expecting what exactly? Hospitality? Don’t make me laugh.”

Chiyo was speechless. Shuu rarely got angry in a way that he raised his voice like that. It scared her. Would he be able to do harm to her if she kept on pushing? Probably.

“Cut it out immediately, both of you!” Chiyo saw Reiji come closer out of the corner of her eye but kept on glaring at Shuu. His voice sounded distant to her.

“We have other, more pressing issues to take care of and all you can think about is starting this pathetic fight in front of everyone and put your pitiful failed relationship on display? You truly are good for nothing.”

They both turned to glare at Reiji. At least one thing they could agree on.

“Hurry up already,” he said, “Chiyo, I need you to fill me in on every detail about your encounter with Mukami Ruki, make yourself useful in some way at least.”

He turned to Shuu: “And you, frankly I do not care about what you do, as long as you keep out of the way.” Chiyo felt as if she saw Shuu roll his eyes at his younger brother before he put his earbuds back in and took off, leaving her behind with Reiji. She couldn’t help but actually feel embarrassed, it wasn’t really comforting to know that the whole family now was witness to how broken her relationship with Shuu really was.

She wanted to die.

Reiji was serious when he said he wanted to hear every little detail about her encounter with Ruki. She even had to explain her weird Mocha incident, which was the reason she ended up in the alleyway in the first place. There was not really much to deduct from this though, as she could be replaced with any other girl. Vampires did hunt for humans occasionally after all. On further thought, their meeting was hardly a coincidence.

When they arrived at home Yui told everybody about the weird dream she had while they were knocked out. A mysterious person had called her Eve and told her that she needed to find her Adam. Chiyo was not an expert on Bible studies, obviously, but it did not elude her that both their dreams mentioned Adam. She decided to keep the information about her own dream to herself though. Something told her it was not the right time to bring it up.

“Why did you leave Adam?”

That was what the mysterious woman in her dream had asked, but who was she? Chiyo had her suspicions, but could it really be? The touch she had felt had been so warm and loving. Almost like the one of a… Mother…?

But that was impossible, wasn’t it? She never met her own mother, that woman died during childbirth, and she was sure she would have never been this gentle towards her if she were alive. And why did she call her Lilith?

“Do you think those Mukami bastards might be behind the crash?” Subaru asked.

“Yes, it all is a little bit too convenient don’t you think?” Laito said.

Well, all those things happening at the same time did seem a little suspicious, Chiyo agreed with that.

“Indeed, it would be best to proceed with caution,” Reiji said, “we should keep an eye on Yui as well.”

Chiyo rolled her eyes. Yes, of course, let’s protect the human girl, while Chiyo was the one who almost got sucked dry. Obviously, that didn’t seem to be their priority right now.

Well, she also did not tell anybody about that before so maybe the fault was hers.

Moving on, everybody agreed it would be easier if Yui chose one of them to keep an eye on her. Ayato was the obvious choice; he was always swarming her like a mosquito anyway.

Chiyo kept on brooding over her own strange dream. She needed to find out who or what Lilith was first. If it was in any way connected it must have been something biblical. She doubted there was enough source material in the Sakamaki family library though; Vampires and the Bible did not seem like that good of a match. Although Yui’s sole presence in this house would have you believe otherwise. She did manage to find a copy of the bible, though Chiyo really did not feel like scanning the whole book for any mentions of that name.

There was the option to scout the school library for more source material, but she could also ask Yui for help. The idea of being dependent on a human displeased her.

She decided to keep that option in the back of her head, hopefully she would never need it.

The next day Chiyo made a beeline to the library, not even thinking about joining classes that night. The thought of accidentally meeting Shuu there made shivers run down her spine. She tried to keep her mind on the task at hand but nevertheless it kept on wandering back to the fight from the other night.

You’re the one coming here suddenly, expecting what exactly? Hospitality? Don’t make me laugh.

There had to be some deeper meaning to his words. There always was with Shuu.

Well, he wasn’t wrong probably. Since the order came from King Karlheinz there had to be some reason. Some reason related to the dream perhaps. Which in turn meant she had to get to the bottom of this first if she wanted to make some sort of progress! It wasn’t like she could just ask for an audience and ask the King what exactly he tried to do. She’d lose her head in the process most likely.

Suddenly, she felt strangely cold. She looked around; was someone stalking her? Her heart nearly stopped when she saw a pair of steel-grey eyes stare at her. Luckily, she had her emotions in check and suppressed the need to scream her soul out.

Him again!

“My, you look like a deer in headlights. I can’t say I dislike that frightened look in your eyes,” Ruki said.

Chiyo frowned at him.

“Maybe I wouldn’t look like that, if you didn’t sneak up on me like a creep,” she said.

Ruki, who had been sitting at one of the desks, looked like he was lost in thoughts for a second, before he stood up and leisurely walked over to where Chiyo was standing. She was now trapped between him and the corner shelf.

“I’ve been here for quite a while now. Maybe little girls like yourself should exercise more caution while being in a school full of monsters?”

Chiyo looked up at him, still frowning. Life was hard when all of your opponents were taller than you. She didn’t feel comfortable in Ruki’s presence at all, his aura had something she couldn’t quite place. Still, she forced herself to stand her ground. She was not gonna give away that she was actually a little bit scared of him.

Ruki looked her up and down and it made her skin crawl.

“I like the bratty look on your face,” he said, “or rather, I want to know which punishment would turn it into one of complete obedience.”

Chiyo’s eyes widened in shock and her face suddenly felt way too hot. She took a step back and bumped against the shelf.

Ruki let out a soft laugh.

“Did that excite you?”

Chiyo tried to regain some of her composure and forced her face back into the frown she was giving him before.

“Obviously not,” she said.

However, she wasn’t so sure herself. She just hoped it was convincing enough for Ruki to finally leave.

The bell rang, indicating the end of the first period and Chiyo could feel the relief. Soon the hallways would be filled with students, which would hopefully put Ruki off from pestering her further.

“That’s too bad,” he said and made his way back to the desk he had previously been sitting at. He collected the book that was still laying there before turning back to Chiyo again.

“You know where to find me if you ever change your mind.”

Chiyo watched him walk out of the library as she tried to calm her nerves again. Her hands were trembling, and her heart was pounding like crazy in her chest. What was this feeling? Disgust hopefully?

Something about Ruki made her unable to keep her emotions in check properly. Usually, she had minimal issue with staying stoic or composed enough, it gave her the creeps how it didn’t work with that person. She hoped that her book hunt would put her mind at ease at least.

[kingsnooz]

The Ever Burning Fire of the Sworn Partners Part 1

The ruler watched as the stars went by on his balcony, staring at the moon like an old familiar friend. He always found solace in watching it and continues to do so today. It relaxed him more specifically. Dedede liked some action, but this is how he liked to “recharge.” Of course it had to be interrupted, as a flash of purple pierced through the sky until it hit a patch of land. Already hearing the commotion of his staff rising from their slumber he takes a hammer to investigate.

A small shockwave could be felt as the king landed and dashed as fast as his feet could carry him. “A king must protect his subjects” is all that flooded his mind, continuing even after he reached the foreign object's arrival point.

The Great King skidded to a halt. Citizens had gathered around the crashed mass, a purple sharded rock. That already had the Dedede perturbed.

“What is that thing?” A cappy questioned.

“It gives off a menacing aura that’s for sure.” A waddle doo noised.

More and more voices arose and as Dedede turned he saw a Bronto Burt flutter closer to the rock.

“Everyone get back! We don’t want another Jamba Heart situation!” The penguin’s voice boomed across the nearby area, keeping the public at bay, as well as frightening the little winged creature. Worried whispers could still be heard, but abruptly stopped when a sudden gust of wind blustered behind him.

“There is no need to worry, it is safe.”

Dedede didn’t feel the need to turn around, already knowing the voice all too well.

“And how do you know that?” The king interrogated.

“I’ve been to the planet this star originated from, it is where I met… her.” The knight retorted as he looked at his blade.

Dedede sighed and looks to see his favorite little guy already setting up yellow tape and holding in the urge to give an “Atta boy!”

“Back to bed, an investigation will ensue in the morning!” The royal’s right hand man stated in his “Big Boy Voice” he had practiced with his guardian all while the residents returned to their homes.

“Your majesty, do you want me to give Susie and Mags a call?”

Upon the mention of the roboticist Meta Knight’s wings slightly drooped and gripped his sword tighter.

“It is okay Bandana Dee, I have this under control.” The masked swordsman said with hints of disdain. Bandee nodded and waddled off after receiving a head pat from Dedede.

“Didn’t you move past your hatred for her?” The king asked inquisitively, causing Meta to get visibly flustered even behind his mask.

“I don’t truly hate her… just strongly dislike her at times.” The knight stated in a forced casual tone.

“Sorry for pressing it blueberry, if you ever wanna talk about it…”

“It is fine, and I appreciate your concern. Now I think we should explain things. This comet originated from an island that drifted off of Halcandra; housing ancient artifacts created by… The Ancients. It was the home to many relics and was some of their birthplaces. It seems this is a shard that is pieced off. While the artifacts inside should be safe according to Galaxia, they should still be taken with caution.” He rambled.

“So is this a Dark Nebula situation or…”

“I do not believe so, but for now you should get some sleep. I can take over from here.” The winged astral stated before being unceremoniously lifted.

“Yeah that’s not happening little man, I see how much caffeine it takes to get you up and running. How are you supposed to be at peak performance to protect dreamland with a blood pressure higher than you can fly?” Dedede asked in a scolding tone.

That first sentence earned the avian a glare.

“I am perfectly sized for my age! Although you… might be right. Fine, I shall return to the halberd and get some rest. Meet me here at the break of dawn, but first I should make sure this is off limits.”

Nearby rocks begin to rise and are carefully placed upon the foreign mineral until it is fully covered. All the while a grown could be heard.

“I’m still peeved over how you get these cool psychic powers after your what, third possession? Meanwhile I just got through my seventh and only got a power boost!” Dedede lamented. That got a small laugh out of Meta.

“Oh boohoo, the strongest physically of use got even stronger. How unbearable…”

“Whuzzat?” Dedede asks.

“While I respect your tenacity to keep going after everything, you must admit that strength boost is quite something.” States after clearing his throat.

“Eh, we’ll see.” The king grumbled.

With that the swordsman wings unfurled and took to the skies gliding upon the soft breeze with ease.

“I never said it was fully safe young knight. Those inside were still created by The Ancients. What was relatively safe to them may not be the same for you and your comrades.”

“Must everyone scold me this night.”

“What was that young man?!”

“¡Nada madre de luz! Es que, no quiero preocupar los.”

“It is your judgment to make, but please make the right judgment.”

Next chapter

[vicariousrufusenjoyer]

okay Rufus curling headcanons because i Miss my silly ice sport:

so. he's curled since little rocks and was very serious about wearing a helmet. looked like a tiny bobblehead and fell all the time. his dad was mega embarrassed (also why wasn't he in a respectable sport like hockey?) and stopped showing up, but his mom (in this case patricia) encouraged him to keep playing. mostly out of spite for her husband.

Rufus played all through his childhood and focused hard on it, and eventually skipped a team in juniors at the international level. he was a terror and his team hated him and split up so he ended up the vice on a team with a much more seasoned skip. he'd be a good vice because he knows the game, but he suggests dumbass shots like in-off doubles and the skip has no patience for that when a perfectly normal single hit will get them a point. Rufus also lacks the communication skills needed to check in with the sweepers about the ice and the rock trajectory.

he's a good player and very accurate with heavy hits and trick shots, but when he misses a shot he throws a tantrum and gets all pouty. it makes him a controversial player who keeps getting kicked off teams after one season until no one else wants him. so he forms a new team (the Turks i guess?) with himself as skip and they suffer a crushing defeat under his poor leadership/lack of team spirit and then he is forced to re-evaluate and rally with new strategy and input from his team and starts succeeding. with the power of friendship.

his strategy as a skip involves a lot of set-up and relies on himself and rude being able to raise guards into the rings to score. when he doesn't have hammer he will find the right angle to clean the house with elaborate triples and quadruple take outs. his weakness is that sometimes he fails to realize when it's the ice that's the problem. will not listen if told there's frost and his team will be forced to power sweep to drag the rock.

[timegears-moved]

(totk ending spoilers ahoy)

wow ganondorf sure does love gettjng stabbed in the head huh

ya know, for all the shit i've given this game about how much i hate the story, that finale was fucking amazing. better than botw's even (i know it's not a hot take to say botw had a mediocre ending for how much i enjoyed the rest of the story).

so.... i loved the callbacks to the beginning with gloom's lair and the forgotten foundations. i loved that you can remove the rocks blocking the way to see the rest of the mural now that you know what happens (kinda strange that the murals were there before zelda even time travelled but whatever. i just gotta accept that the time travel in this game makes zero fucking sense). but it was just very cool to have a book closing situation with it. AND ALSO ZELDA'S TORCH WAS STILL THERE!!! very sweet and sentimental detail. i also liked how it was the opposite of botw's, as in botw you were ascending hyrule castle but here you're descending far far below the castle and further below anywhere else in the depths.

the atmosphere here was amazing, especially with how the power of the sages couldn't reach you. it was truly isolating and i knew that the sages themselves would show up eventually but nonetheless it was really hammering in the tenseness of the situation.

one of my gripes is honestly with the sages. they felt kinda....useless?? which feels means to say because i like their characters but it felt like they didn't have much of a presense in the final despite literally being there. i do like how tulin was like "we need to work together" when his whole thing during the rito questline was how he was doing everything by himself and had to learn and accept teamwork. if totk carried at least one thing over from botw it was that the rito continue to have the best and well-developed characters lmao (even if the impact of tulin's felt smaller. probably because he's not.... ya know....dead).

AS FOR THE FINAL BATTLE ITSELF. WOW. ganondorf's ai was fucking incredible here. also his taunting was just very funny to me for some reason??? except for when he reached his second phase and was beckoning link closer i was like okay you need to die now.

SPEAKING OF THE SECOND PHASE: LOST MY SHIT AT THE HEALTH BAR. i love when games play with the hud and that adds to the story (prof sada/turo's text boxes glitching out and it briefly flashing with "they have no intention of fighting anymore" before changing back comes to mind as something similar). it was just very cool.

third phase was also very cool with it incorporating the sky and zelda joining us (nitpick time sorry: though the fact that she is capable of recognizing link and helping him even as a dragon kinds goes against the whole "losing yourself" aspect of it. like she was clearly still in there). i don't think the third phase was as good as the first and especially the second though. it was very easy, though it was cool that if you got hit by ganondorf's attack you would permanently lose one of your hearts. it was still a good part of the fight though, don't get me wrong.

JUMPING AFTER ZELDA AND REACHING FOR HER WAS BEAUTIFUL THOUGH. WAHHHHH

as for the epilogue it was sweet but the entire story of the game let it down a bit. i felt nothing for mineru passing and that's because everybody from the past barely felt like a character to me. this is also extends to when the current sages were vowing to protect hyrule and zelda had a flashback to the old sages. like wow it's very cool that you got to know those guys zelda and i'm glad that they meant something to you. wish i could say the same considering we still know fuck all about them.

epilogue aside, the ending was wonderful. it brought this game up from a 6 out of 10 to a 7 out of 10. if only the rest of the story was of this quality.

[ballwizard]

oh btw my ACE ATTORNEY dual destinies post game review. LONG RAMBLE CHOCK FULL OF SPOILERS BELOW.. BEWARE!!!!!

ok SO. ending-wise it was fucking awesome. funnily enough while me and sal were on our own between playtime we ended up both getting spoiled on fulbright dying and something odd happening to him. On accident. So we both kind of knew what was coming, but not how or why. and id say it actually didn't take away from the surprise considering by the point you really hammer down on it, it's pretty obvious imo LOL. ALL the disguises threw me for a fucking LOOP!! i was like. Huh??? THIS GUY??? ironically all the big ones he did before the breakdown were ALL characters i voiced which was really really fun for me. i think the choice to have him impersonate phoenix last was so cool and the new sprites he gets RULE SO HARD. genuinely thought it was sick as hell. i miss you bobby every day of my life

something really funny that occurred was : Throughout the entire game sal decided they HATED Simon blacjquill. like genuine vitriol at seeing him. when we found out he was on deaths door they were like KILL HIM‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️ OT WAS SO FUNNY. but by the end of the game they did nearly a complete 180 on him and he was the first character they doodled after finishing the game.Thwy were sooooo mad about liking him now

speaking of liking characters: my top fave new characters were DEFINITELY bobby fbright & damien tenma. i already talked about fulbright yadda yadda he's cute yadda yadda need him expoditiously yadda yadda cool ending. Damien on the other hand was the only side character that we were consistently SO happy to see literally EVERY time. (Excluding Bobby). Dude fucking rocks he's so weird and he owns. Cawwww caw caw caw

casewise i think the weakest might have been the monstrous turnabout? even though i LOVED damien the rest of the case was. It was okay? but with the rest of the cases being so interconnected jt just felt kind of out of place. hypocritically i found jinxie and filch and labelle kind of annoying despite liking damien... eye dee Kay. My Opinion. my fav case was the very last one i think. i would say it was the academy one but means just felt like a kinda weak villain. especially since it felt really obvious from the beginning with his whole shtick (which was ALSO annoying) and also his whole. Him. but i liked the whole bit with scuttlebutt & the trio. it was very cute. Also elephant in the room, robin, i felt DEFINITELY could have been handled better. but it really wasn't THAT bad, and i like that he retained her like, testosterone rage screaming despite him "getting revealed". In my beautiful mind they're gender fluid. Smiles serenely. it was also nice seeing klavier again but his 3d model is NOT DOING HIM WELL . i like his gay little intro animation though

oh yeah and the 3d. since we were playing the original trilogy concurrently to dd, we got to compare how the characters look pretty often and i found that it's kind of weird, but i understand why it was done & honestly it allowed them to do more fun stuff. like having bobby wave out of the window or all the shit with recreating the silhouette of the statue was REALLY fun to see and I thought it was cute as hell. Simon does look like he's poking himself in the eye though. the normal art in the game was cute too & i thought the cutscenes were fun when they showed up!

comparing it to the original trilogy, without rose tinted lenses of nostalgia & with direct referencing via.... playing them both at the same time... i really think it was a solid game. one thing i really, really liked about it vs the trilogy is that it's a lot more... easier?? straightforward?? it's hard to put into words but i NEVER felt like i had hit a dead end in investigating and didn't know where to go. the notes system as well as the button to look back at recent dialogue are SUPER helpful, and even if i might not have used them All the time, they really helped when we needed them lol. i LOVE. not having to present every single piece of evidence to a random during investigations and just PRAYINF that one of them make something happen. and especially since i was playing with someone else, and therefore took what could be week + long breaks between playtime, it was really useful to get back into the swing of things. ANYWAYS

Overall it was a really fun & engaging play!! me & sal enjoyed it a lot and it's got our gears turning and steam smokin and shit. we actually finished the second game right before finishing the last case of dd and it was fucking awesome. we started trials & tribulations (one case in!) and after that we might hit up the investigations games... and THEN we'll play spirit of justice. so that's the game plan teehee

Thank you for reading if you did lol ^__^ ❤️🌈‼️

[breezybeej]

Tears of the Kingdom review: Heavy Spoilers Ahead

I just typed out my thoughts to get them out of my head so here's the messy essay I wrote just pasted under the cut

Let's get this out of the way first. This review is going to sound extremely negative because literally everyone in the universe has covered the positives of this game already and you can go view those reviews to see that. And I'll give you the score up front so you at least know that I still 'had fun' while playing the game. Please dear god, before you leave a comment about why I kept playing if I hated the game so much, just don't. I still had fun with the game but it was a hard 6.5/10 for me. So let's talk about it. Also, spoilers ahead because I played the main story, several side stories, and a lot of exploration stuff. And these are all opinions so if you disagree with me, I don’t care. We can discuss it if you want and if you think the game is a 10/10, okay. Anyway

I'll start with the least controversial stuff. The stuff that makes the most sense toward lowering the score. The Game Play.

Every major dungeon gives you a fancy power just like Breath of the Wild but they way you activate them is different this time around. You have a little homunculus and power activation comes from talking to them. This was a terrible idea and I have no idea how it made it past testing.

Example Riju: She is a melee fighter. She loves to run right up to whatever enemy you are fighting and stay there. Great! She’s an aggressive fighter who provides decent passive damage over the course of battle. Problem: her power modifies your ranged attack. So when you are fighting the Queen Gibdo, you spend more time chasing this woman around the arena than you do fighting the boss. It becomes more frustrating when you realize the mushroom spires will cover themselves in armor periodically so if you don’t catch up to her, activate her power, and let it charge up to the appropriate range to hit the towers in time, well that sucks. Also, if she gets hit, it cancels her charge up and since you cannot control her, you cannot pull her out of harm’s way. Gotta chase her down and try again. Note that most of the control is in the hands of the AI and not the player. Queen Gibdo is a very simple fight. It’s very easy with basically no mechanics besides “break the boss’ armor to deal damage” so most of the difficulty came from managing your companion. This is not a compelling fight design.

Example Sidon: Once I finished the water dungeon, I disabled his spirit and never pulled it out again because he doesn’t do much. He was never around me when I needed him to activate the water wheels needed to progress the temple. I would solve the puzzle and turn around to activate his power and he would be wandering aimlessly around at the top of a ramp 20 yards away so I had to go retrieve him and hold his hand all the way to the door. His power is also pretty clumsy. Since you have to chase him down to use his power and you can’t talk to your companions while L-targeting, there’s a good chance you will activate it and take a sucker punch that immediately consumes the shield before you can fire the water wave. What’s funny is that you don’t even need him to fight the boss of the temple. I happened to have an opal wand which tosses water orbs out. Works better than the champion, too. And since the temple is low gravity, you can just… jump to activate bullet time and dump arrows into the boss the instant it is vulnerable. I didn’t have to interact with any boss mechanics here. So Sidon is a wash (lol).

Example Yunobo: He’s massive. He takes up so much visual space on screen when I do not want him to. Steering a vehicle? Well he’s in the middle of the screen now and making noise and drawing lines in the air and spinning and bro I am just floating down the river, I’m not trying to bring down siege fortifications. The good thing is that he can break rocks without wasting my bombs and hammers, the bad thing is he loves to just wander away while his power is recharging so I have to chase him down. Another problem? When you are aiming him, taking damage cancels it. Holding up your shield cancels it. So you are very vulnerable during this time. Yeah, it’s a trade-off but then we go back to the issue of this being more about managing your companion and his position than about participating in combat. Managing companions in battle is not fun.

Example Tulin: Free critical shots and a traversal power makes for EASILY the number 1 companion who will always be active. He lets me go fast. He saves durability and arrows. He defends me better than Sidon’s shield because he stuns enemies. But. But. He will run up into your face when you are picking up loot and you will activate his power and blow all your loot down a hole. It didn’t happen often but it happened enough that I developed a hatred for this little shit. I tolerated his presence for the gifts he provided but I found myself creeping up to items and slowly gathering them to make sure I didn’t trigger the bird. You know takes away the joy of looting after a battle? Having to slow down and MANAGE YOUR COMPANION.

Example Mineru: I didn’t use her. She will be useless by the time you unlock her unless you stumble upon the steps to get her before clearing any other dungeon. Zonai devices don’t scale up their damage as the game progresses so fitting her with a cannon does nothing. I had a cannon break before she was able to kill a moblin with it. She’s slow but you can put a fan on her to speed up. Also, the fan will break. Why? I don’t know. These things don’t break when you assemble them into devices off of Mineru. They just cost battery. Why would you make them more restricted on the mech companion? I’ll just use a custom made vehicle instead. Also, she’s bigger than Yunobo and for some ungodly reason, you have to press two different buttons in sequence to dismount her. I do not know why.

Okay, that was an overview with the problems I had with companions individually. Now the system as a whole: They are annoying to use. I spent a lot of time in the menu activating and deactivating them. Maybe I’m weird for this but I prefer to not pause games a lot while playing them because I enjoy the feeling of uninterrupted play. Breath of the Wild was fantastic for that. I only really paused to eat and to change clothes. The companions are so frustrating that I voluntarily interrupt my play to turn them off and then do it again to summon them later. I just did not vibe with the Primary Storyline Powers the game gives you. And since I said the magic word Storyline, let’s move on to writing.

The writing in the game is bad. You meet Tulin and his dad says “He thinks he can accomplish things by himself. He’s doesn’t appreciate teamwork.” Two minutes later, you give Tulin his bow back and he says “Dang, I can’t accomplish things by myself and I appreciate teamwork.” Like, he almost repeats the exact same line we were told two minutes ago. Sidon is too clingy about his people and afraid to talk to his fiancee about it. You do one single task for him and he says “Well it’s time to let my people work without me and also talk to my fiancee.” Yunobo has gotten his people addicted to heroin and then you knock sense into him within a minute of meeting him. Riju says “Damn I can’t aim my lightning. Hey shoot your bow” and that helps her aim, cool. Then the very next scene shows her using the lightning strike without your aid. So what am I getting at here? It felt cheap. None of the character growth felt earned, we just get told one thing and then told another right after. It’s not compelling.

I don’t want to say this would be better but they could at least make the character changes come AFTER the dungeons are cleared? Like Sidon gains confidence that he can leave the Zora to defend themselves when he sees that they handled the domain well in his absence. Or Tulin learns that teamwork is good after he works with Link to save Rito village. Is that crazy to think? I just fail to see the value in the champion storylines when they happen so quickly and resolve themselves.

In a similar vein, the memories in this game are kind of lame. They are all laser focused on explaining the past timeline and they are worse for it. In Breath of the Wild, some of the memories were about the plot and some were about characterization. There were slice of life memories that served the purpose of developing Zelda’s insecurities and not just telling us what happened in the past. In Tears of the Kingdom, that is not the case. Every memory is just raw exposition. Take the one where they consult Mineru. I’ll summarize it:

Rauru: Zelda, your power is unique and we have no idea how it works. Maybe Mineru can help us understand it. Mineru: Zelda we have no idea how your power works but there’s no way it can send you back home. The only way is to eat a rock and turn into a mindless dragon thereby losing your identity and kind of defeating the purpose of getting back home.

So just to set up the Dragon of Light plotline, we have a character dismiss all the time they could spend studying a new combination of magical powers and jump to an extreme case immediately. They also established this was the first time they talked about the subject. It feels so forced every step of the way.

And you know what? I liked that Zelda becomes a dragon. I like that she sacrificed her very sense of self, essentially committing suicide to ensure the survival of future Hyrule. That is a cool and powerful thing but it is set up poorly and they undo it with absolutely zero consequence. The writers straight up included a scene that explicitly says there were no consequences to losing her mind and identity as a dragon for a thousand years (or was it ten thousand? I already forgot). Regardless, Riju says “Wow you were flying around up here all that time?” and Zelda says “Yeah but I don’t remember any of that nonsense, it’s fine lol,” so it undercuts the entire cost of swallowing a secret stone. What was the point?

It’s like this for most of the main story progression. They set up a problem and resolve it with no consequence or even really any action on the part of the player. They even give you control during a sequence to catch the princess falling from the sky. You cannot fail it. The ground never gets closer. If you flub the button, nothing bad happens. The music is swelling and dramatic but there is no consequence to any of it. The dive started and when I realized that the princess wasn’t actually falling, I got up and refilled my drink, moved my laundry from the washer to dryer, ate some lunch, then caught the princess.

You say “Well the plot in Breath of the Wild wasn’t very good. It was barely there.” And that’s the problem. Breath of the Wild didn’t draw attention to the plot. That wasn’t the point of the game. So they kept it simple and they kept it in the background. They made the plot more central and more sweeping in this game and it hurt the experience.

But surely, since they lifted the combat and stuff from Bee Oh Tee Dubs it at least has that going for it, right…. Eh…? Late game enemies are damage sponges that aren’t really worth fighting. The mini-bosses all have the same mechanic (shoot the weak point then hit them. that’s it.) “But that’s true of Breath of the Wild!” Yeah, and having the same problem makes it worse here. Because they didn’t improve. Also, since the game revolves around supergluing things to sticks, you have to navigate the abysmal ‘quick item’ menu.

Since there is only one type of arrow, any modifier has to be selected from that menu every time you want that effect. That menu sucks ass. It is a single line of items and it doesn’t display the stats of the item when you hover over it. The pause menu is better but you can’t glue items to your arrows from the pause menu. It destroys the flow of battle when you spend so much time with time frozen on a menu scrolling to the item you want to use.

And boy it sure got annoying having to open the menu, drop an item, select the fuse power, and then activate the fuse power to set up your weapon. So for the above reasons: I just avoided combat unless I absolutely had to partake in it. Which leads us to bosses.

The bosses are boring. Most of them, I completely ignored the ‘mechanics’ of the fight. I already talked about how the low gravity trivialized the water boss. I accidentally killed the ice boss in 45 seconds. I mean, you only have to hit it six times. Gohma is just like fighting a Talus. Break the rock limbs, jump on top and hit the thing. I didn’t know the rocks it tossed would explode because I just… walked around them and hit the boss. Queen Gibdo might be the most intricate fight because she attacks from the ground, the sky, and has structures and gremlins. But it’s still couched in the problems of managing Riju.

And the worst boss of all is the final one. I died twice to him because I was trying to figure out how his patterns worked and his dodging and stuff. Then I realized I could just walk forward and swing my sword and win. Literally, that’s all I did for the first two phases. Then he starts perfect dodging all your attacks. So I had to swing once, wait until he dodged, then delay my walk forward just a little bit. That was it. Almost zero thought, no use of my fancy powers, nothing.

Then the final phase: Dragon Ganon. To be fair, Breath of the Wild’s Ganon was an immobile joke too but this one also sucks. He doesn’t aim at you with his attacks, he doesn’t retaliate when you land on him, he doesn’t try to eat you. You just land on him, swing sword, fall. Land on him, swing sword, fall. And then two more times. The final boss being a pushover could be fine if there was a good story supporting a narrative victory but the story is weak so it is just disappointing. Also, when you fight the phantom ganondorfs in the castle, there’s a dramatic moment where the four champions suddenly show up and save you. Then it happens again five minutes later when you go to face Ganondorf in the depths. THEN IT HAPPENS AGAIN TWO MINUTES LATER DURING GANONDORF’S SECOND PHASE. Three times in a row!! And they give it the same dramatic framing every time. And the reward for this is the aforementioned scene where you can just watch Zelda fall forever and then she shrugs off being a (ten?)thousand year old dragon because it would be too sad otherwise. I don’t know, man. There are just so many problems with the game that it blows my mind how I haven’t seen much discussion about them. Like I said, I had fun with the game. It’s fun gluing things together and that makes up for most of the tedium of the game. Yeah, I like flying around on a goblin glider. I like making flaming electric laser roombas that chase goblins. It’s fun. But I spent $70 on this game and I have spent as much time getting distracted and being frustrated by the mechanics and story of the game as I have enjoying it. And that’s without bringing up how shoddy the rewards in the game are but I’m at 2802 words and I just want to be done with this.