#i simply cannot imagine him as my [REDACTED]

[politicalmamaduck]

I cannot even begin to express the extent to which I'm internally screaming right now. I am praying to every patron Saint of lawyers, civil servants, et al. that a certain alleged human trafficker/rapist doesn't get confirmed.

[vera-keller]

switchblade | masters of the air | taster pt. 2 a/n: did anyone ask for this? no lmao prepare to receive my [redacted] [redacted] anyway (lore accurate mariner quote)

It is at Thorpe Abbotts that Mariner decides coming here is functionally a grounding. Try as she reluctantly might, she simply cannot imagine herself flying a B-17. The controls are all wrong, or at least she thinks they should be. Her hand will automatically reach for the throttle that is supposed to be on her left and instead it will grasp at nothing, empty space. And when she tries to locate and operate the weapons control systems she will be immediately humbled by the reminder that she is no longer responsible for controlling the guns in this aircraft.

No, there are other people in the aircraft for that. Nine other people, in fact. Nine other people to navigate and operate the radio and fire the top turret and ball turret and so on and so forth. Her job is simply to keep the aircraft flying, the most rudimentary definition of what a pilot is.

She supposes Tillotson wasn’t spewing complete bullshit when he said that she had a particular skill set that could – the keyword being could – make her a valuable bomber pilot. And that was that she knows the vulnerabilities inherent within every bomber. If she knows these vulnerabilities, if she knows what enemy aircraft will be aiming for when they inevitably fly into an onslaught of them, then she knows how to circumvent them.

Like that’s going to happen, another voice in her head says. You can’t even do evasive manoeuvres in this toaster.

Frustrated, Mariner slams her fist down on the metal beam that she is sitting on. An officer walking in her direction flinches at the sound.

“Lieutenant Mariner?” he asks.

Mariner looks up at the insignia on his shoulders: a gold oak leaf, horizontal, stem pointing his collar. The insignia of a major. Rank has been pulled, albeit indirectly. She jumps down from the beam and salutes him.

“Sir,” she says. “Sorry for startling you.”

The major smiles politely in answer, a lopsided though somewhat guarded smile that seems to suggest tolerance. He’s young for an officer of his rank. In fact, he cannot possibly be more than a few years older than Mariner, yet he has obviously been entrusted by his superiors with a rank normally held by men who have a greater advantage of age on him. Mariner wonders what that must have taken. What buzzwords are on his resume? Strategic vision? Tactical acumen? Effective communication? Team player? Maybe, like her, he has a father who makes a habit out of overextending his influence. After all, nepotism has been here long before she was born and will continue to remain here long after she is dead. It is the beginning and the end, the first enemy and the last, et cetera.

But this officer doesn't seem to be one of those. He doesn't, for starters, wear his insignia as though it is an accessory that he knows looks better on everyone else.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’m not that easily startled. But it did take me a while to find you. You were supposed to report directly to me, but I had to ask around until Lemmons helpfully told me he saw someone who might have looked a little like you head straight into the hangar.”

“Just trying to get an up close and personal look at the tin can I’ll be flying, sir.”

The major nods, as though he can understand the sentiment of a pilot wanting to evaluate a new plane to which they have been assigned, though Mariner doubts he’d understand exactly how much she despises the idea of getting into one of these things that reminds her of a bee in that neither, according to all known laws of aviation, should be able to fly. But the major doesn’t seem to be reading into it at all. Instead, he looks up at a nearby B-17, and Mariner instinctively follows his gaze. The same aircraft she has spent the past ten minutes disparaging in every measurable way, shape and form in her head, and imagining herself shooting down in aerial combat, which would have been an amusing pastime were she not going to be piloting one of these planes herself. Yet he’s looking at it as though it’s an old friend.

“That’s no tin can, Mariner. That’s a B-17. She’s not as sleek or nimble as a fighter, but she’s sturdy, reliable and strong, and she can take a beating like no other. I couldn’t ask for a better plane to fly in. You just transferred from the 157th?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ve seen your records. You’re a solid Mustang pilot. You might find it harder to get used to the B-17 than I did, but she’ll grow on you. I’m Major Gale Cleven.”

“Olivia Mariner.”

Belatedly Mariner remembers that Cleven absolutely knows who she is already. Even through the embarrassment, however, she can appreciate the fact that if he is aware of the real reason for her reassignment, he’s consciously choosing not to mention it. She looks back up at the B-17 and tries to see it the way she imagines Cleven must, a literal flying fortress, but all she can think is that it is an ugly aircraft that is much too large to the point where its largeness looks like a mistake.

“You said she can take a beating, sir?” she asks, knocking on the aluminium.

“She certainly can. She’s earned her reputation for toughness, that’s for sure.” He reaches out, swipes his hand along the nose of the aircraft, as though wiping away dust that has collected there in a familiar gesture. “She’s designed to withstand heavy enemy fire and still deliver her payload while bringing her crew home safely.”

Mariner nods sceptically, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studies the bomber. “Okay, so she can tank enemy fire. But can she evade it altogether? That’s what’s going to make all the difference when it comes to bringing the crew back.”

Cleven offers a knowing smile at Mariner’s bluntness, as though he has long figured out that she would ask that question sooner or later, and it is clear she has opted for sooner. “She’s no Mustang, Mariner, but she’s no slouch either. If you want to manoeuvre the B-17, you have to go easy on the yoke. Besides, when you’re in a formation flying together, you have the strength of numbers. Each pilot requires both practice and discipline to maintain formation, and when you’re out there in the air, everyone watches each other’s back. That’s how we fly our missions and that’s how we come back in one piece. All of us, together.”

And there it is. The inevitable cattle prod in her side. This conversation is getting a little pointed for Mariner’s liking now, considering the reason she was bumped out of her former squadron was supposedly because of her inability to adhere to a formation. She wonders if Cleven knows this already, whether Tillotson has included some kind of addendum on her report about her apparent Achilles’ heel as a fighter pilot. Excellent, Tillotson, she thinks irately to herself. You can’t get me to stay in a formation, so you put me in an aircraft where I’ll literally die if I don’t. Very well played. Have you been taking lessons from my father? Maybe the two of you should sit down together for a drink sometime and discuss all the many methods you might choose to employ for colossally fucking up my life. Dickheads. But she does not say any of this. Instead she asks, in a perfectly calm and even tone of voice that a perfectly calm and even individual might use, “Who will I be flying with?”

“We’re putting together a crew for you,” Cleven tells her. “Rest assured. You won’t be integrating into the unit alone.”

Then he pauses for a brief moment, glancing up at the B-17. “As a pilot, you’ll learn to appreciate her strengths,” he says. “She’s resilient and a force to be reckoned with. And in the end, it’s not about the plane you fly, but how you fly it. Wouldn’t you agree, Lieutenant Mariner?”

Mariner considers this. Her gaze drifts from Cleven to the B-17 obfuscating her peripheral vision that is almost certainly going to be the death of her within the next six months, but she actually thinks about Cleven’s words. Superior officers tend to attempt to get through to her in one of two ways: either through the carrot or the stick. Neither works on her: she sees through the carrot immediately – thereby also identifying a superior officer that is more interested in placating his men than leading them – and any and all stick wielders are classified as delusional self-important men throwing tiny-fisted tantrums and asserting themselves through the little power they are afforded by the chain of command, thereby immediately and permanently losing her respect. Tillotson falls in the third category of simply being annoying. Yet Cleven doesn’t seem to fall in any prescribed category. This could simply mean he’s better than others at concealment. But it could also mean he doesn’t see her as something to be managed. 

“You’re right, sir,” she says, pale blue eyes appraising the aircraft with a measuring gleam. “I think I know exactly how I’m going to fly this.”

Cleven actually cracks a smile. “That’s the spirit, but maybe you should take her out for a test flight before you get too sure of yourself. I’ve booked you in for three hours this afternoon. Come by the hangar at 1500. We’ll see if you can get her into the air.”

Mariner nods, a single dip of the chin downward. “Trust me, I can do much more than get her into the air.”

“Good,” Cleven says. “Because that’s what the Krauts are gonna be expecting. Why don’t you go get yourself set up? Irvine will show you your room and get all the admin sorted out. Report to the hangar at 1500 sharp. And Mariner?”

“Sir?”

“Try not to beat up the metal beams too much while you’re in here. The acoustics in the hangar aren’t exactly forgiving in terms of the echo. A lesser man might have pissed himself.”

The corners of Mariner’s lips lift into an almost imperceptible smile. She’s not going to tempt Cleven to thinking she’s actually warming up to him, of course, even though she appreciates that he seems to be allowing her the courtesy of a clean slate, something that should be frustrating her instead because she hasn’t done anything that has warranted the necessity of a clean slate in the first place. Being reassigned to the 100th is miserable enough without a superior officer like Tillotson trying to turn every patrol briefing into a veritable circlejerk. But Cleven isn’t Tillotson, and Mariner’s almost imperceptible smile seems to be enough for him already, because he takes the hint and smiles back – politely but not clinically – and walks away as though this interaction has been the most natural thing in the world for him.

Huh. Perhaps she now has, for the first time in her three-year career, a superior officer she can actually get along with.

Left to her own devices, Mariner looks resentfully up at the B-17s, their cumbersome-looking metallic bodies glinting with rays of sunlight that come in from the open sides of the hangar and reflect off the painted aluminium. They look back down at her, unblinking.

Whoever was responsible for designing the shape of their noses should be shot, Mariner thinks. The entire structure is an area of stress concentration. Any impact applied to it would lead to mass structural failure across the entire aircraft, not to mention that it would instantly kill the bombardier. Why is the bombardier stationed in the nose section anyway? She reaches out a hand, runs it along the nose as Cleven had done earlier, and feels no additional affection for the aircraft as she absently imagined she might have done. 

It’s the pilot. Not the plane. Mariner repeats this to herself like a mantra, as though the act of repetition might somehow will the statement into becoming reality. A part of her finds it to be a frustrating restriction: if she fails to master the controls of a B-17 then it would be entirely on her, a reflection of the limitations in her abilities as a pilot. It would give Cleven ammunition to use against her if he so wishes, and she doesn’t like the idea of giving anyone any kind of ammunition to use against her.

But another part of her challenges this assumption. It’s all in your hands, she thinks. Exactly how you want it. You alone control this aircraft. Just you. You decide whether it rolls or turns, whether it pulls up or dives, how to operate it to best meet situational needs. You decide whether its purpose is to simply tank enemy fire or if you can turn it into what you want it to be.

She might as well train herself to start thinking this way; she doesn’t have much of a choice otherwise. Fortunately for her, she’s already figured out an alarming plethora of ways she could shoot a B-17 down. Now her role is to defend it. More than defend it: her role is to evolve it. Cleven is right. The B-17 would never come close to a P-51. But while aircraft cannot change their structural components, the pilot is at perfect liberty to change their tactics, and it’s convenient that doing so is the mark of a good pilot anyway, which she is. Exactly how non-manoeuvrable is the B-17 anyway? She privately hopes that Cleven is actually right, that the aircraft is unbreakable. Because whatever doesn’t break will bend.

If I can’t find a way, then the others definitely have no chance, she thinks to herself. And then, Jesus Christ, shut the hell up, Mariner. This is no time to get cocksure. You haven’t even gotten in the aircraft yet.

Mariner pauses.

She looks up at the B-17 in front of her. At the hangar full of B-17s in front of her. Unmanned. Fuselage and bomb bay doors in plain sight. Exterior steps attached.

Unless…?

A full crew of ten is not needed to fly the B-17, surely. Any plane can get off the ground with just the pilot alone. Especially a pilot like her who is accustomed to flying single-engine single-seat fighters, where – once you’re up in the air – there’s no one to help you. Besides, how different can the controls be, anyway? They’re all the same in every aircraft. Elevator, ailerons, rudder, throttle, trim tabs. She could make her way around the controls in her sleep. A small, determined smile curves her lips.

She’s taken off and landed successfully more than a hundred times. She’s a lieutenant and an ace pilot. She’s served in both the RAF and the USAAF on a technicality, and operated multiple different fighter aircraft while she’s at it. She’s hardly a fresh-faced flight school graduate; she doesn’t have to wait for Cleven’s supervision for a simple test flight. In fact, Cleven will probably appreciate that she’s showing initiative and actually making an effort to integrate into the 100th. Maybe if he relays a glowing report of her back to Tillotson – fuck that bitch, Mariner thinks, but he’s still her superior officer – he might expedite her reassignment back to a fighter squadron. Where she belongs. Maybe she’ll even get to have her old P-51 back.

With that in mind, she steps up into the B-17 before her, mindful of the bulkheads as she ducks into the cockpit and slides deftly into the pilot seat. The flight controls and instrument panel look similar enough to that of a P-51. Engine gauges, altimeters, attitude indicators, turn coordinators, compasses, throttle quadrant, the usual assemblage. Everything needed to get this tin can, which she must now grow accustomed to as her designated aircraft for the next several months, up into the air. She can figure them out in no time.

So she sets the fuel selector valves. Checks the propeller pitch controls, like she has done countless times before.

And she cranks the engine.

–

“Sir?”

Gale Cleven looks up from the report wedged behind the cylinder of the typewriter on the desk before him at Master Sergeant Ken Lemmons, who stands in the doorway of his office, his breaths coming out in short, shallow gasps, his face overwrought with evident distress. Cleven pauses, his brows furrowing.

“What is it?”

“Lieutenant Mariner? The new pilot?” Lemmons’s face is white with panic.

“Yeah, I just spoke to her in the hangar. What happened?”

A hint of reluctance washes over Lemmons’s features, as though he is still privately hoping very much that he won't have to be the person to relay this information. But he eventually speaks.

“Sir, Lieutenant Mariner crashed a B-17 on the runway.”

And then Gale's day takes a rapid turn for the worse.

[autisticempathydaemon]

Hi, if you're still doing the matchups, I'd love to see what you have in store!

Song fixations

-- Currently, I've been listening to MARK CHAPMAN by Måneskin. The first lyrics that came to my mind was the end of the first verse and the chorus.

Ma se soltanto avesse La possibilità Ti seguirebbe al quattro angoli della città Nascosto fra la gente Senza un'identità Dice che mi ama ma lo so che mente

Si muove a piede libero Vestito come un incubo Vuole tu sia in pericolo Però'ti chiama idolo

Translated as: "But if only he had the possibility, It would follow you to the four corners of the city. Hidden among the people, without an identity. He says he loves me but I know he's lying. He moves freely, dressed like a nightmare. He wants you to be in danger, but he calls you an idol." I'm not entirely sure why these lyrics stand out to me in the way they do, but oh well. I've also been listening to READ YOUR DIARY from the same album.

The Redacted Part of this Ask

-- I absolutely love Hush's introductory video. The sound design and overall ambiguity surrounding his character at that point was so absolutely intriguing on its first release, and I still listen to it regularly.

I never was able to get into Asher, unfortunately. I know that there's probably so much more to his story, but it's just never clicked with me.

I would completely and absolutely love to befriend Huxley. I am a total Plant Slut, and I have (quite frankly) a concerning amount of house plants. Having someone who is not only Chill as Fuck to hang with, but could also help with the plants? That is a friendship that I need.

Book/series/tv show

-- Just solely by the volume of it that I watch, I could probably recall any given episode of Dimension 20. I watch it while crocheting, and so when I'm just chilling and have time on my hands, dice time it goes. I could probably name every insane Nat 20 Ally made in FH:FY and every intimidating Evan Kelmp line in Misfits + Magic.

Various other info (Sleepy time, Enneagram, etc)

-- My go-to way to fall asleep is, unfortunately, staying awake until I physically cannot keep my eyes open any longer. When I do get sleepy, I talk about stationary. It's something I've been into for a long time, and when I simply do not have the filter to not talk about my interests, I unleash everything about pens and notebooks that I know on the poor soul who is near me.

I'm a type 5 on the Enneagram and am currently pursuing a degree in Mathematics. Ideally, I want to go to grad school. I just really, really, fucking love maths. It is the best subject.

Gas Station. I normally do a water, a monster zero ultra, and kettle-cooked salt and vinegar chips.

Other than all of this, I'm just a dude. Just a silly little guy, if you will. Teehee. Have fun!

So this one was both so fun but so hard. You’re so interesting, you’ve got so much going on- a typical Type Five. Not to make you sound like a Manic Pixie Dream Boy but god, James could use you in his life.

By that, I mean Type Five’s are characterized as thoughtful, unique free-thinkers prone to philosophy and complexity. I think James respects and admires these qualities in you in addition to your pursuit of higher education. (I don’t think he knows a ton about math, but I do think he likes to hear you talk about it.) Complementing that, he loves the more unexpected, chaotic parts of you. Like, can you imagine listening to your thoughts and the cognitive dissonance of theorems versus Riz going up a corn monster’s butt? You keep him on his toes in the best way.

Another reason James strikes me as a good match for you is how easy, I think, it’ll be for him to take you with him to ETS. He could listen to Dimension 20 when he misses you, deeply confusing his coworkers who can’t picture him as a DnD guy. Like, I don’t think you would have had time to crochet him a blanket before he left, but maybe he’s got gloves, a scarf, socks, something you made for him that he can touch. Also, can’t you imagine sending him on his work trip with a little plant? The bonding opportunities for James and Anton to take care of their plants and miss their lovers write themselves!

Song:

Gonna soften the blow, soften the blow and give it up/ I saw the surprise, the look in your eyes, I gave it up/ Gonna be who I am, be who I am, and give it up/ I traveled the way/ Wait for me, wait for me/ It's all better now, it's all better now/ Wait for me, wait for me

James strikes me as an indie, alt rock kind of guy, so Kings of Leon would be a good fit for him. I like this song for y’all for that reason and the fact it’s got a sweet, longing kind of feel. Also, “wait for me” when he’s on that business trip a little incel motherfucker made that much longer just hits.

Runner-ups:

Anton is obviously a runner-up; like, he came to mind first. However, James strikes me as more interesting and therefore a better match for someone as interesting as you. Lasko is another runner-up because I think y’all would really share interests and hobbies. If I were doing platonic match-ups, he’d have been at the top of list.

note: thank you for waiting 🧡

Read this post and send me an ask if you’d like a match-up of your own! 💌

[charlescoded]

Quack quack!

Today i have two things to tell you!

1. About age gap omegaverse, it makes me go 🤩. Imagine the first time tp max lays his eyes on and smell the pretty little omega 🤩🤩 and he thinks this beautiful boy should be [REDACTED]. I can't help but think about what will happen if the omega from the small team is able to grab a RB seat, although he's talented. Streets will say he use whatever a gorgeous omega can use, including his body 😳, to seduce the new tp. Charles will definitely feel that his potential is underestimated just because he's a pretty omega. Will he be sad or want to prove everyone wrong or both? How his tp is going to deal with this and at the same time hide how much he wants to [REACTED] that pretty little thing??

2. The pic of charles and chiara makes me want to scream my lung out that THIS MAN SHOULD BE IMPREGNATED. I don't understand why men on the grid take so long to complete this task. He's so beautiful with babies and everything about him radiates an energy of someone who is ready to carry babies 🥰 so you can turn every aus you have into omegaverse and i'll be coming here to tell you how much i love your work.

- 🦆

oh, people already talk about charles seducing his way into f1 by spreading his legs for a sauber seat, if he ends up at a big team the voices will only get louder. unfortunately he's used to it, but he'll use it to fuel his determination <3 but first you have to ask yourself a different question, would charles go to red bull at all? 🤔

either way, before that decision is even made, max would be very vocal about charles' talents, blatantly calling people out on their shit for even questioning it in the first place... he won't hide how much he admires charles' driving at all, but people will always think max wants to fuck him simply because max is an alpha and charles an omega (they're right that he wants to fuck him, but he'd want to fuck charles even if he was an alpha sooo the reason why is wrong lmao)

those pictures are going to be the death of me fr, im still not over them 😵‍💫 he looked soooo good, i cannot stop thinking about all the different ideas that i have for it. you'd think that all this would make writing inyjy ch3 easier, but noooo, i keep getting distracted by new thoughts asldkjfdsf

[thebreakfastgenie]

out of genuine curiosity, why don’t you want to write bj goes to Maine?

Well, for starters—and this probably answers your question—I hate BJ/Hawkeye. 

I capitalized BJ Goes to Maine to specify that I was referring to the popular fandom trope, not the concept of BJ ever traveling to the state of Maine. I’m not saying I’ll never write BJ going to Maine for a visit or trope subversion, because I did, but I'm not likely to do it again (except [redacted]). 

As for as BJ Goes to Maine the trope, the problems I have with it could fill libraries. This is basically just a start. 

The heart of it is, it requires characterization so atrociously OOC, I don’t recognize either character. Literally the first question I asked when I encountered BJ Goes to Maine was “what about Erin?” I have never gotten a satisfactory answer to that. The BJ we see in canon loves and wants to be with Peg. Even taking an alternative interpretation of their marriage, or saying circumstances have changed for them, does not change the fact that they share a child. BJ would not leave Erin to go to Maine. A fanfiction BJ who would abandon his child his someone I would be actively rooting against. 

BJ Goes to Maine is all about BJ. He is the one taking action, the only one making a choice. Hawkeye just waits around for BJ to show up and declare his love. Hawkeye has no agency. He’s reduced to a love interest and not even a complex one. In the show, Hawkeye constantly fights for agency, while at the mercy of a system doing everything to take it from him. Once he’s finally free to live his own life, he’s not going to let anyone determine its course for him. When Hawkeye feels strongly about something, he takes action. We see it again and again and again. If he wants something, he’s not going to sit and wait for it to come to him. 

Despite my penchant for angst, I like happy endings, and BJ Goes to Maine isn’t one. If Hawkeye and BJ remain the most important people in each other’s lives, they have to remain who they who during the war forever. It defines them and they never escape. That’s just about the bleakest thing I can imagine. They need to move on, and Hawkeye already has. Some kind of grand romcom reversal isn’t consistent with who they are. MASH isn't a romance and I don’t want to turn it into one. Intentionally or not, BJ Goes to Maine turns the Korean War into the thing that brought BJ and Hawkeye together. There is a whole complex conversation to be had about how fic that focuses on the characters and their relationships engages with the themes and message of the show, but ultimately I don't believe in policing what people write. I simply don’t like it.

The reality of Hawkeye and BJ is that their lives are not compatible. They’re very different and they were briefly brought together by the war. The bittersweetness of that parting being inherent to them finally getting their lives back is a major theme of not just the finale, but the entire show. Putting any characters together undermines that, but putting Hawkeye and BJ together undermines it more than anyone else, because of the relationship they had. The relationship they had onscreen was entirely dependent upon circumstances and cannot exist after the war ends. Hawkeye knows this and he accepts it, he just wants closure. When BJ tries to suggest ways they could see each other again and Hawkeye says “in other words, goodbye,” he isn’t just saying all of them having dinner is unlikely—though it is—he’s saying they’ll become people who get together and have dinner. That’ll be all that's left, a toast to whatever closeness they once had. And Hawkeye is okay with it. He's sad about it, but he’s okay with it. BJ refuses to accept it and refuses Hawkeye that closure, but I think deep down he knows it too, because his last word to Hawkeye is goodbye, even if he doesn’t say it. 

BJ Goes to Maine is antithetical to GFA. Hawkeye and BJ’s goodbye is final. BJ going to Maine is just saying haha, we didn’t mean it! We take it back! Why would I do that to such a great, poignant ending? It’s the lazy sequel way out, like how Andre Aciman ruined the best part of Call Me By Your Name (Elio realizing over time, as he has more relationships, Oliver remains important but stops being the most important) by having Oliver casually leave his wife and kids to go to Italy in Find Me. There's a reason Alan Alda said he didn’t know if Hawkeye and BJ ever saw each other again. 

I’m also not sure BJ would. He makes a choice in GFA, and he doesn’t choose Hawkeye. I don't blame BJ for leaving the first chance he gets, and I don't think Hawkeye would either if he handled it better. But he clearly demonstrates his priorities, and they are not Hawkeye. He only comes back because he’s forced to, and he isn’t happy about it. None of this foreshadows someone who’d uproot his life to go to Maine. Again, it would be dependent upon a wild change of heart that just isn’t consistent. BJ can barely handle being around Hawkeye while he’s hospitalized, which again I don’t really blame him for, but that doesn’t tell me he would go to Maine. If he did go, I don't see it ending well. If I didn't think BJ and Hawkeye had negative romantic chemistry, I wouldn’t be able to see a future for them. 

The tl:dr is you don’t write things you don’t like, and I hate BJ Goes to Maine. 

I'm posting this now so it doesn't get eaten a third time, but I may come back with and another thing-

[gmanwhore]

As usual my brain is full of cute [redacted] moments. Please imagine Virtue has just finished creating his universe and lies down to rest on some planet at the beginning of its life cycle, beneath its first towering, unmoving organism not unlike what would one day be called a tree. A very small young being of a species that will someday develop into civilizations spots him from behind some rocks, and is shocked to see something so unlike anything it has ever seen before, a being it can’t quite perceive, his form shimmering in colours it didn’t even know it could see. His presence is overwhelmingly vast but not remotely threatening, whatever he is seems to be asleep, and the little one is just too curious not to take a closer look. Even from up close, his form is multicolored, hazy and motionless, and the little being stands and stares in wonder for a little while. It decides that it simply must tell its family about this strange occurrence. Its older siblings scoff at the outlandish idea haphazardly described in its primitive language, but its parent decides it’s worth investigating, so they take a look together in the next morning. When they arrive at the location, however, the strange being is now awake, his features indescribable but vaguely in the shape of one of their kind. The child is excited to see his friend awake, but the adult is terrified of something so… other. He makes the gesture of a peaceful greeting, easing the adult’s fear ever so slightly.

“What are you?” asks the child.

Virtue tries not to show how excited and nervous he is simultaneously; this is his first encounter with his own creations! He is unsure what to say, but eventually settles on “I am Someone Else,” and extends a hand out towards the two beings.

The child grabs one of his fingers with a tiny hand first. The sensation is most peculiar: the digit is strangely warm and seems to fade in and out of being at regular intervals, though the child has absolutely no trouble holding on. Its body language shows nothing but joy.

The adult steps tentatively forward and also takes Virtue’s finger. Now that it is up close to him, his presence doesn’t feel frightening at all. On the contrary, it feels comforting, safe.

“It is good to see you, Someone Else!”

Though they cannot see it, Virtue is overwhelmed with happiness. He simply cannot help himself, and a swirling array of colors fills the sky as the two beings look up in wonder.

Virtue has a feeling he is at the start of something beautiful, and he cannot be more correct.

AAAAAAAAAAAAA I LOVE IT I LOVE IT

[lafantasiaworld]

big full fucking comments under the CUT!!!!!!!

“you swiftly close the small distance and crush your mouth against Takeshi’s” I .. WAS SO !! GAGGED WHAT THE FUCKCJWBDJWJFSFKCK GIRL GOT SOME NERVES WISHED I WAS HER

“Opening your eyes, you find the smirk has left Takeshi’s face, replaced instead by a heated gaze. “Was that an attempt to convince me?” he asks, “Or are you trying to flirt with me?”“ i’d simply die bcs Holy. shit

““I’m talking about this.” He points a finger between you and Rick. “If you don’t hurry up and make a move, I might just have to take her for myself.”” the way i would be so shy i could melt away

““This one,” he points to Rick, “talks about you every chance he gets. Can’t shut him up. Had to meet you at least once while I was in town. And honestly, I can see the appeal.” He addresses Rick now. “I don’t know what you’re waiting for. I’ve already established that she wants you. When she was kissing me, I could tell she wished it was you.”” I WAS GAGGED. AGAIN. TAK IS SO MOUTHFUL

“Kissing Rick is different to kissing Takeshi. Rick is gentle – tentative, even - and it only makes you want him more.” “You should have guessed that one taste of Rick would be all it takes to have you addicted.” i Need him

“Takeshi dips his head and whispers against your jaw. “Like what you see?”” sorry my brain is turned off my coochie is in charge now

“Takeshi clearly shares your opinion when he murmurs to Rick, “Undress her.”” my sub ass would be so aroused (i am) this is Insanity

““He’s stretching you out for us,” Takeshi murmurs into your ear, still squeezing and tugging insistently at your delicate nipple. “Gotta make sure you can take us.”” I CANNOT EVEN FORM A COHESIVE SENTENCE

“He dips his head, his hot mouth clamping over your peaked breast, where he starts to bite and suck.” tak is a boob man wbk

“At work he’s the one barking orders, but here, in the privacy of the bedroom, he takes them willingly. And it’s clear how much he likes it - that it lifts a weight from his shoulders, allowing him the freedom not to think, just to feel.” I want Him ……. Please….

““Tell her how often you imagined it,” Takeshi urges, his hands returning to your breasts, squeezing, and pulling and pinching. “Tell her how often you jerked off in the shower thinking about her beautiful cunt.”” PERVERT TAK HAS BEEN LIVING IN MY MINDDDDDD 😩😩😩 I NEED MORE OF PERVERT TAK

“His other hand dips between your legs and you choke out a sob when he finds the spot where Takeshi is spearing inside you.” this is my last straw tbh this is.. just.. FILTHY and im unapologetically loving it

““Good girl,” Rick grunts, his own release painting the taught wall of his abdomen as your hand squeezes him one final time. “That’s a good fuckin’ girl.”” the feelings that im feeling are all redacted and cannot be put into words

“It’s a tight squeeze for the three of you, even with Rick’s king-sized bed and you have to peel yourself away from Takeshi; his big hot body is moulded firmly around you.” THIS IS WHAT I NEED IN LIFE IS IT TOO MUCH TO ASK?!!!!! Also the ending killed me!!!! as much as i want tak i’d die to see rick being intimate privately 😩

I have to say this is.. this was such a roller coaster i rly had to take 1 bathroom break while reading this 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 best. fic. ever. Ever. so crazy

A Night to Remember | Rick Flag x F!Reader x Takeshi Kovacs

Summary: When Rick asks you out for a drink after work, the evening takes an unexpected turn.

Word Count: 8,033 words.

Warnings: 18+ only. Drinking. Dirty talk. PinV. Threesome. Rough sex. Read at your own discretion.

A/N: This one is dedicated to H.P. Thank you for all of your support. I couldn't have done it without you <3 Thank you to @a-reader-and-a-writer for the title, and for beta reading along with @skvatnavle and @yespolkadotkitty. There are a couple of prompts thrown in here too, which I will link to later.

Joel Taglist: @weallhaveadestiny @a-reader-and-a-writer @skvatnavle @yespolkadotkitty @11thstreetvigilante @fairchildflag @heresathreebee @babblydrabbly @bewitchedignition @christinasyellowflowers @lavenderluna10

Sandwiched between the two large men in the too-small booth, the bassline pounding from the speakers matches the tempo of your racing heart. The bar is packed with bodies tonight, but with Rick to your right, Takeshi on your left, and their attention centred wholly on you, it feels like you are the last woman on earth. Even if you’re not exactly sure what it is the three of you are doing here.

When you ran into Rick as he was coming out of the staff gym earlier this evening, the last thing you’d been expecting was an invitation to join him and an old friend of his for a drink. While you’re close within the office, the two of you have never really socialised outside of work, so it seemed like an opportunity you’d be foolish to turn down. Besides, with his thick, muscular thighs so tantalisingly on display beneath his work-out shorts, you were far too flustered to consider what he was really asking.

Arriving at the bar, you had instantly spotted the pair. Even tucked away in a booth at the back of the room, they were impossible to miss – both of them tall, broad, and unfairly attractive. Rick’s eyes had landed on you immediately and you didn’t fail to notice the small nudge he gave his friend as you started to walk over.

You’ve been here for an hour or so now, listening to the two old friends catch up when Rick distracts you from your thoughts, pointing to your empty glass. “You want another?”

You nod, watching as he slides his large body out of the booth and makes his way to the bar. Finding yourself alone with Takeshi for the first time this evening, you tear your gaze from Rick’s broad shoulders, while the other man moves closer, leaning in to make himself heard over the music. “How long have you been pining for Flag?”

“I’m not pining,” you protest quickly, despite the rush of blood that warms your cheeks.

Takeshi scoffs.“I’ve known you all of one hour and it’s obvious to me.”

You have to hand it to Rick’s friend, he’s observant. It’s true, you have been harbouring a secret crush on your co-worker for years now, despite the knowledge that it is entirely unrequited. Word around the office is that Rick Flag doesn’t date, not since the incident with the archaeologist. With this in mind, you’ve tried hard to brush off the idea that there could be any meaning behind the lingering glances and fleeting touches that the two of you share in the corridors of Belle Reve.

Besides, any faint hope raised by Rick’s invitation tonight was swiftly dashed the moment he introduced you to Takeshi Kovacs. Takeshi, you have been informed, is in town on business and will be crashing at Rick’s two-bed apartment for the duration of his stay. Even without the sly glance between the two friends when you first entered the bar, you’ve been subjected to enough set-ups over the years to recognise this for what it is. Only Takeshi has yet to make a move, and Rick shows no signs of leaving any time soon.

“I’m not pining,” you insist again, turning your whole body to face Takeshi. He’s watching you with the ghost of a smirk playing across his pretty mouth and your stomach somersaults. He might not be Rick, but there’s no denying you’re attracted to him. Now that your eyes are trained on his lips, you can’t help wondering what it might be like to kiss him. As far as set-ups go, you suppose Rick could have done a lot worse.

As if he can read your thoughts, the corners of Takeshi’s mouth uptick into a full smirk. He leans even closer, his warm breath fanning your cheek. “You’re a shitty liar. I see the way you look at him. Tell me you don’t want to fuck him.”

“I don’t want to fuck him,” you repeat, although the words come out somewhat strangled. Of course, it’s a lie. But admitting to his ridiculously hot friend that you very much would like to sleep with Rick, seems counter-productive. Especially if you don’t want to end up going home alone tonight.

Takeshi raises his brow, obvious amusement gleaming in his hazel eyes. “It’s written all over your face. You can barely take your eyes off him.”

To emphasise the point, he switches his glance, looking over your shoulder instead. Subconsciously, you find yourself following his line of sight. Your attention lands once more on the wide expanse of Rick’s shoulders, straining beneath his dark t-shirt as he leans over the bar.

“See?”

Turning back to Takeshi, you shake your head resolutely even as your heart is thumping faster and faster. “We’re just friends.

He smirks. “You’re going to have to try harder than that if you want to convince me otherwise.”

Conscious that Rick will be returning at any moment and emboldened by the two beers making their way through your system, you swiftly close the small distance and crush your mouth against Takeshi’s. It’s unlike you to make the first move, but you desperately require some means of steering the conversation away from your feelings for Rick, and kissing Takeshi is not exactly a hardship.

If Takeshi is surprised by your sudden reaction, it doesn’t show. His big hand rises to cup the back of your head, keeping you in place as he deepens the kiss, swiping his tongue along the seam of your lips. He tastes of whisky and cigarettes and something forbidden. When his other hand lands on your waist, fingers squeezing your flesh and drawing you closer, it stirs an aching desire between your thighs. You reluctantly pull away, lest you lose yourself to his lips.

Opening your eyes, you find the smirk has left Takeshi’s face, replaced instead by a heated gaze. “Was that an attempt to convince me?” he asks, “Or are you trying to flirt with me?”

“Yes,” you respond bluntly to both questions, slightly dazed from the kiss. “Is it working?”

A trace of begrudging admiration crosses Takeshi’s face, but before he can answer, three drinks appear on the table, and you become aware of Rick slipping back into the booth beside you. His jean-clad thigh brushes against yours as he leans over. “What did I miss?”

You open your mouth to respond, but Takeshi beats you to it. “Your friend and I were just getting better acquainted, Flag. You were right, she really is something.”

Your cheeks burn again, just as you catch Rick shooting what seems to be a warning glare in his friend’s direction. Takeshi simply shrugs and takes a sip of his drink.

As Rick steers the conversation back around to work and questions Takeshi about his latest case, you become increasingly aware of the lack of space between the three of you. Rick’s thigh is still pressed against your own, the heat of his body burning through the denim of his jeans to your own skin, bare below the hem of your skirt. On your other side, Takeshi’s arm is now slung over the back of the booth, almost encircling you. Every now and then you feel his calloused fingers drift across your shoulder.

Rick is halfway through recounting the details of one of his less successful missions, when Takeshi groans suddenly. “God, this is painful.”

“What?” Rick demands, obviously insulted. “You’re the one who asked-”

Takeshi cuts him off. “I’m not talking about your thrilling story.” He shakes his head and drains the rest of his drink. “I’m talking about this.” He points a finger between you and Rick. “If you don’t hurry up and make a move, I might just have to take her for myself.”

“Excuse me?” You’re not sure who’s more shocked in that moment, you, or Rick, because when you dare to glance over at him, you could swear that the colonel is blushing.

“Ignore him, darlin’,” Rick advises, busying himself with his own drink. “He thinks he’s being funny.”

“Cut the crap, Flag,” Takeshi continues, leaning back in his seat and surveying the two of you with that infuriating smirk. “What are we doing here?”

“Tryin’ to have a drink,” Rick offers dryly.

He’s rewarded by a snort before Takeshi turns his attention on you, his large hand landing on your bare knee. “This one,” he points to Rick, “talks about you every chance he gets. Can’t shut him up. Had to meet you at least once while I was in town. And honestly, I can see the appeal.” He addresses Rick now. “I don’t know what you’re waiting for. I’ve already established that she wants you. When she was kissing me, I could tell she wished it was you.”

“Takeshi!” you yelp, both stunned and mortified by his bluntness.

“You – you kissed him?” Rick’s expression falters, his hazel eyes widening. “When?”

“I…uh…” you splutter, confused. “I thought that’s why I was here. That you were, you know… setting us up?” You can’t shake the feeling that you’re missing something. That you’ve unknowingly entered a game, only nobody has cared to explain the rules.

Rick’s bewilderment quickly turns to understanding, and his gaze darkens. A muscle in his jaw ticks. “You really are a dick, Kovacs,” he growls. And then he leans in and kisses you.

The moment his lips meet yours for the first time, you could swear that your heart stops beating. Kissing Rick is different to kissing Takeshi. Rick is gentle – tentative, even - and it only makes you want him more. How long have you been waiting for this? Too long, some would say. Because Takeshi was right. You have been pining for Rick, ever since the day you met him. You’ve just always been too shy to do anything about it. And so, it seems, has Rick.

All thoughts are wiped from your mind as Rick’s broad hands reach up to cup your face, his thumbs running over your cheeks as he glides his tongue between your lips. It’s such a small touch, but every nerve in your body is on fire, crying out for more. You should have guessed that one taste of Rick would be all it takes to have you addicted.

As Rick continues to explore your mouth, your body, with increasing fervour, the pieces of the puzzle fall into place. The way he asks you to check over his reports before submitting them to Waller. The way he’ll stop by your desk with an extra coffee after he returns from a mission. The way his eyes always find you across a crowded briefing room. You’d attributed his quiet, considerate attentiveness to friendship and nothing more, but as he kisses you so deeply, so thoroughly, you realise how wrong you’ve been.

You pull away finally and breathlessly, only remembering that Takeshi is still there when he begins a slow round of applause.

It’s not long before the three of you find yourselves heading back to Rick’s place. Once again, you’re tucked tightly between the two men, their arms and thighs rubbing firmly against yours in the back of the cab. Rick has made it pointedly clear that Takeshi didn’t have to leave yet, but the bar is closing soon and as Takeshi reminded him, there’s a bottle of something old and expensive waiting in the apartment.

You don’t mind. For the time being your attention is fixed solely on Rick and the way he has laced his fingers with yours, rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hand. You feel giddy, and it’s not just from the alcohol.

When you arrive at the apartment, Rick takes your coat. His fingers linger on the bare skin of your forearms and his beautiful eyes sparkle with unspoken longing.

“You want somethin’ to drink?” he asks, finally pulling away.

“Sure.”

“No point askin’ you, is there Kovacs?” He glances over his shoulder towards the other man. “Play nice while I grab the bottle.”

Rick disappears into the kitchen, leaving you alone with Takeshi for the second time this evening. You can feel your blood thrumming beneath your skin as his watchful gaze travels over you.

“Looks like I was right.” He smirks, taking a seat in the armchair.

“Right about what?” You frown as you claim the couch opposite.

“You do want to fuck him.”

There’s little point in denying it. Not anymore. When Rick asked you to come home with him, the intention behind his tentative request was clear. You open your mouth, intending to give a witty retort, just as Rick returns with a bottle of whisky and three glasses.

“He ain’t botherin’ you, is he?” Rick frowns when he sees you and Takeshi staring heatedly at one another from across the room. “Won’t hesitate to throw his ass out of here if he is.”

“No, he’s fine,” you assure him, taking the glasses. “I think he’s just jealous.”

“Sounds like Tak,” Rick agrees, throwing an uncharacteristically smug look across at his friend.

You have no idea if that’s true or not. You haven’t been able to get a read on Takeshi all night. He’s equal parts sarcastic and cocky, but there seems to be something buried beneath the surface. Something deeper, something raw. You thought you caught a glimpse of it when you kissed him, but as soon as you withdrew, the spell was broken. You’d be lying if you said a small part of you didn’t long to uncover the side of Takeshi Kovacs that he’s so clearly trying to hide away.

Once the three of you have a drink in hand, Rick joins you on the couch. Takeshi appears to be distracted by something on his phone, so you don’t feel too self-conscious when Rick’s hand finds its way to your thigh, his fingers drifting dangerously close to the short hem of your skirt.

“Been wantin’ to do this for a very long time,” Rick admits, not quite able to meet your eyes. It’s a side to him you haven’t seen before. This uncertain and bashful version of your friend is a world away from the no-nonsense commander of Task Force X.

“And what’s that, Colonel?” The alcohol has made you far braver – bolder - than you would be under normal circumstances. You’ll worry about that in the morning.

Surprised by the playful lilt to your tone, Rick places his glass - and yours - on the coffee-table. When he straightens, he reaches over to brush a lock of hair from your face.

“This,” he responds. And then he kisses you again.

The tenderness from earlier is still there, but so too is a new-found confidence. Now that he knows you want this – that you want him - the kiss rapidly heats up, with Rick slipping his hand under the hem of your skirt. A few inches more and he’ll discover just how much you want this.

Silently, you will his fingers further; both of you are too far gone, inhibitions dulled by drink and desire, to remember that you’re not alone. It’s only when your own hand finds its way to the top of Rick’s thigh, fingers dancing towards the fastening of his jeans and eliciting a low moan from him, that you hear the tell-tale sound of a throat being cleared.

When you pull away, you find Takeshi watching you from his position on the couch. He grins over the rim of his glass. “Don’t mind me.”

Rick shoots his friend a meaningful glare. “Told you, Kovacs. You didn’t have to leave the bar so early.” The implication is crystal clear; he’d rather Takeshi wasn’t around for whatever he’s planning next.

Takeshi drains his glass and places it on the coffee-table next to yours. "Come on, Flag. We've shared a girl. Think I can handle listening to you rail one in the other room."

For a second, you assume you must have misheard, but judging by the reddening of Rick’s cheeks and the wide-eyed look of mortification that crosses his face, you heard every word correctly. Your own cheeks burn as you consider the implication. “You’ve what?” You direct your question back at Takeshi.

“Nothin’,” comes Rick’s swift response. But you’re too distracted, watching as Takeshi’s lips quirk up into a rare smile, his eyes creasing in wicked amusement.

“Don’t listen to him,” Takeshi tells you, conspiratorially. Then he turns to Rick, arching a brow. “Don’t know why you’re embarrassed all of a sudden. You were pretty enthusiastic about it that night. And if you ask me, I think she likes the idea.”

Needing to do something, anything, to ease the tension caused by the two men looking in your direction, you grab your glass again and take a too-large mouthful of whisky, the bitter liquid almost choking you as it burns on the way down. Maybe you do like the idea. And maybe that should scare you.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and return your glass to the table. They’re still watching you, waiting. “What?” You play dumb. “It’s none of my business what the two of you got up to in the past.”

“But what about in the present?” Takeshi probes. He’s leaning back in his seat, cool and composed, but there’s a glint of excitement in his eyes as he surveys you.

“Kovacs,” Rick warns, that muscle in his jaw ticking as he stares at his friend. You are still aware of his hand resting on your thigh, a burning brand reminding you of just how you’re hoping this evening will end.

Takeshi flagrantly ignores him, his attention fixed firmly on you. “You’re intrigued, aren’t you?” The smirk has returned. “You’ve kissed both of us. Now you’re wondering what it might be like to have both of us inside you?”

“Tak!” Rick snaps, his voice deep and tinged with disbelief. “I am so sorry about him, darlin’. He’s… well, he’s just Kovacs.”

Rick’s apology, wholly unwarranted, washes over you. Takeshi’s statement has startled you completely and you’ve bitten down on your lip, almost drawing blood. You’ve known him for a matter of hours. How is it that he’s constantly able to read your thoughts? It’s uncanny, this ability of his to understand your own desires before you even fully realise them yourself.

Never in a million years would you have considered the possibility that Takeshi is currently laying on the table. But now that the seed has been planted - now you know this is something they have done before - you find temptation bubbling away beneath your skin like molten lava.

“Go on,” Takeshi encourages, ignoring his friend again. “Tell us what you’re thinking. Tell us what you want. No questions, no judgement.”

Your eyes dart to Rick, only to find his expression has softened in the last few seconds, somehow mirroring the sincerity of Takeshi’s request. He nods, almost imperceptibly, letting you know that whatever you decide, it’s ok. This knowledge sends a pulse of heat straight to your core. You never would have pegged the straight-laced colonel for enjoying such proclivities, but the subtle reassurance he’s giving you now is all the evidence – all the persuasion - you need.

“I’ve never done anything like that before…” you begin nervously, conscious that both men still seem to be hanging on to every word that leaves your mouth. Rick squeezes your leg, urging you on. It’s becoming more and more apparent that maybe, just maybe, he wants this too.

“But I think -” you continue. “I think if I was ever going to try… I would want it to be with the two of you.” Because as desperate as you are for Rick, ever since you kissed Takeshi, you haven’t quite been able to get him out of your system.

You don’t miss the silent exchange as the two men glance at one another. The weight of Rick’s hand is a constant pressure on your skin, but he doesn’t say anything, in fact, he barely moves, barely breathes. Takeshi on the other hand, leans forwards, elbows resting on his knees as he regards you intently from across the room.

“What are you saying?”

“Don’t feel like you have to do this, darlin’,” Rick cuts in before you can answer. “We’re not pressurin’ you into anythin’. We can forget this conversation ever happened.”

For the first time all night, Takeshi and Rick seem to agree on something. “But if you really want to do this, we can take it slow,” Takeshi tells you, his voice softening. The surprisingly gentle tone, free of snark and amusement, only serves to stoke the fire that is raging through your body.

“He’s right,” Rick adds. “If we do this, we go at your pace. You want us to stop, you just say the word.”

You nod faintly, glancing between the two men and wondering just what exactly you are signing up for. There’s a tightness in your chest, but it has nothing to do with fear. You’ve always felt safe with Rick, and you trust every word he’s saying – Takeshi, too. You trust that they’ll respect your wishes, your boundaries, and that if it gets too much, they’ll stop.

“Need to hear you say it,” Tak grunts and when you look over again you notice the way his fingers are gripping the arms of the chair. It seems that you and Rick are not the only ones who want this badly.

When you reply, you ensure your voice is loud, confident. You don’t want to leave them in any doubt about your desire. “I want this.”

Rick squeezes your leg again. Words seem to be beyond him as he gazes at you with lust and wonder shining in his beautiful hazel eyes. You can take a good guess at what he’s thinking. It’s not the direction either of you imagined this night taking, even when you left the bar with Takeshi in tow. But working for ARGUS means you’re both used to doing things a little differently.

Slowly and gracefully, Takeshi rises from his seat. Every muscle in your body is coiled, tense with anticipation for what comes next. As he stalks forwards, it feels like you and Rick might be nothing more than sitting prey. But you’re not afraid. When he reaches the couch, he holds out his hand, beckoning you towards him with the crook of a finger. You find yourself standing at the silent command, placing your hand in his and allowing him to draw you in.

Takeshi gazes down at you. Like Rick, there is barely concealed lust gleaming in his eyes. The longer locks of his hair have fallen over his brow making him look softer, more innocent somehow, but you’ve seen and heard enough tonight to know that danger still lurks behind that pretty face.

When he kisses you this time, moulding his mouth to yours, it’s slow and explorative and your heart threatens to burst right out of your ribcage. Unlike the hurried exchange at the bar, there’s no longer any rush. He and Rick have all night to do whatever they want with you, and you want it all.

Takeshi’s large hands slide under your skirt, bunching it around your hips as he kneads the flesh of your ass. The insistent ache between your thighs increases, knowing full well that Rick is right behind you, watching everything from his position on the couch. When you moan against his mouth, Takeshi breaks away.

His gaze darkens as he glances over your shoulder to address his friend. “Let’s take this somewhere more comfortable.”

You gasp as his hands slip beneath your ass and he lifts you in one smooth movement. With no choice but to wrap your legs around his thick waist, you cling on tightly as he carries you to the bedroom. Rick is hot at his heels.

Before you reach the bed, Takeshi sets you gently back on your feet. “Any second thoughts?”

You shake your head earnestly.

Takeshi’s lips quirk into another wicked smile as he steps back and starts to unbutton his shirt. You only realise you’re staring open-mouthed at the revelation of so much tanned skin when Rick takes your hand and spins you around to face him instead.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he marvels, before cupping your face and kissing you softly.

You can’t help but think the same about him. About both of them, in fact. As he deepens the kiss, Rick’s broad hands begin to explore your body and when they slip beneath the hem of your blouse to encircle your waist, you release a shuddered breath. His touch sets your nerves alight, the flames of desire licking your veins. Despite everything that has happened this evening, you still can’t quite believe that this is real. That he is real.

You’re conscious of Takeshi standing close by, watching now. Although you can’t see him, you can picture the intensity of his focus and it sends another rush of heat between your legs. Rick slowly starts to walk you backwards until you hit a solid wall of bare skin and muscle. When he releases you, Takeshi swiftly takes his place, his own hands landing firmly on your waist and pulling you flush against him.

Rick steps back and pulls off his t-shirt. Your mouth goes dry at the sight of his sculpted chest and tattooed biceps, such a glorious sight to behold. Takeshi dips his head and whispers against your jaw.

“Like what you see?”

But he doesn’t give you a chance to answer. His lips have found the sensitive spot below your ear and as his teeth graze over your skin, a soft whimper escapes your lips. You feel him huff out an amused breath when your head falls back against his chest.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

His hands rise from your waist, travelling a tantalising path upwards until he’s cupping and squeezing your breasts through the soft silk of your blouse. It’s not enough. You need to feel his touch against your bare skin - no barriers.

“Takeshi,” you moan breathlessly, hoping he will get the hint.

Watching the two of you with a heated gaze, Rick closes the distance until he’s tilting your jaw and capturing you with another claiming kiss. Powerless to resist the temptation, your hands fly to his scar-flecked chest, marvelling at the heat that ripples off his body.

Trapped so thoroughly between so much naked flesh, it suddenly feels like you’re wearing too many clothes. Takeshi clearly shares your opinion when he murmurs to Rick, “Undress her.”

It’s rare for you to hear anyone give the colonel orders, so you are surprised when Rick doesn’t hesitate. He grips the hem of your blouse and pulls it over your head, before his fingers deftly unclasp your bra. The items have barely fallen to the floor when you are finally rewarded with the skin-on-skin contact that you have been yearning for; warm hands cover your breasts, softly squeezing and pinching your sensitive flesh. Takeshi again.

Rick’s focus turns to the waistband of your skirt, sliding the material down over your hips and thighs. Leaving you in only your underwear, his large hand slides between your legs and he nudges your ankles apart, wide enough so he can cup your mound. You’re certain he will feel the evidence of your arousal soaking through your panties.

“So wet already,” he groans in awe, confirming your beliefs as he drags a finger along your covered core.

Intrigued by his friend’s observation, Takeshi removes one hand from your breast and places it between your thighs. With two sets of fingers probing between your legs, you are ready to combust on the spot. The sensation is intense, like nothing you’ve felt before. You are completely and utterly at the mercy of these two huge men and your mind is swimming with the possibilities of how good they could make you feel.

Unlike Rick, Takeshi tugs your panties to the side, his thick finger parting your slick folds. “Fuck. Take ‘em off, Flag.”

You whimper at the loss of contact, wordlessly pleading for more.

You don’t have to wait long. Once again, Rick does as he is instructed, sliding off your underwear and leaving you completely exposed. There’s no time to feel self-conscious though because Takeshi’s hand returns to the apex of your thighs, where he begins to trail his finger along your wet centre.

“Such a good girl. You’re so ready for this, aren’t you? Is this what you’ve been wanting all night?” Takeshi’s voice is dark yet soothing as he strokes you again and again. His other hand is still moulded around your breast, and you can feel his arousal digging into the base of your spine.

“Yes,” you pant, your hands flying to Rick’s shoulders for support, clutching him just as tightly as Takeshi clutches you, until there’s barely an inch of space between the three of you.

“S’ok, darlin’. We’ve got you.”

Then, through some unspoken agreement that leaves you wondering just how many times they’ve done this before, the two men manoeuvre you until you’re sitting on the edge of the bed. Bracketed between Takeshi’s thick legs, his hand slips around your waist, keeping you firmly in place against his chest.

“Flag’s gonna make you feel really good now.”

Precisely at that moment, Rick lowers to the ground, his hands gripping the backs of your legs and spreading them even further apart. He looks up at you through a deeply hooded gaze and sweeps his tongue across his lower lip. It’s a mesmerising sight, the colonel on his knees before you.

Your fingers scrabble for purchase against Takeshi’s thighs as you try to prepare yourself for what’s coming next. Then, without saying a word, Rick lowers his head and licks a stripe exactly where Takeshi’s fingers were moments earlier.

“Oh God, Rick!” You cry out as he laves at your core with broad strokes, lapping at your juices. Dissolving into pleasure, your head falls back against Takeshi’s shoulder, grateful as the other man tightens his hold on you, keeping you in place for his friend.

“Keep going, Flag,” Takeshi coaches as one hand rises to pluck at your hardened nipple, rolling the pebbled flesh between his deft fingers. “We both know how long you’ve been wanting to do this. Show her just how much you want her.”

Rick’s tongue flutters over your sensitive bundle of nerves for the first time, and you let out a shattered sob. “Please.”

It’s still not enough. With every glide of his tongue, a void is opening deep within the pit of your stomach, an emptiness begging to be filled.

“That’s it. Can you hear these pretty noises she’s making for us, Flag?”

Rick’s answer comes as a muffled groan against your core, sending a shiver of pleasure through your body. The way the two men talk about you alone is enough to make you lose your mind.

“How does she taste?”

Rick suddenly plunges a finger inside your soaking centre, pulling his mouth away just long enough to respond. “So good, Tak. So fuckin’ good.”

You keen at his words, lust drunk and yearning for more as Rick slips another finger inside you. You barely recognise the sounds leaving your mouth as his tongue swirls around your clit and he scissors his fingers, slowly beginning to massage your inner walls.

“He’s stretching you out for us,” Takeshi murmurs into your ear, still squeezing and tugging insistently at your delicate nipple. “Gotta make sure you can take us.” Something about the implication of ‘us’ sends you spiralling even further into the endless pit of desire.

As Rick ravenously continues to fuck you with his mouth and fingers, you feel your climax approaching, the familiar coiling sensation low in your belly growing stronger and stronger with every sweep of his tongue.

“You gonna come for us now?” Takeshi asks, his voice deep and encouraging as he presses his lips against your jaw. “Are you gonna show us what a good girl you are?”

As if his words weren’t already enough to tip you over the edge, Takeshi turns your upper body towards him. He dips his head, his hot mouth clamping over your peaked breast, where he starts to bite and suck. Rick’s fingers continue to curl inside you, hitting that sweet spot over and over again.

You shudder, heat spreading over your skin as you are utterly overwhelmed by the sensation - by what the two men are doing to your body. Your climax barrels towards you with every touch, until the tension in your lower abdomen finally snaps. You fall back against Takeshi, a strangled noise tearing from your chest as the wave of your release overtakes you.

Takeshi holds you, limp in his arms, as you come down from the soaring high. His lips brush over your cheek and jaw again as he murmurs soothing words of praise but you’re barely able to comprehend what he is saying, especially when Rick withdraws from between your legs, and you find his lips shining with your arousal. The dazed look on his face surely mirrors your own and you’re helpless but to watch, enraptured as he rises to his feet and starts to shed the rest of his clothing.

Takeshi is still hard against your lower back, and you tear your eyes away from Rick, twisting in the other man’s lap so that you can palm him through his pants. Even through the rough material, you can tell that he’s impossibly large.

“Want to touch you,” you whine, fumbling with the fastenings.

The attention they’re giving you is exquisite, but you are desperate to pleasure them too, craving to feel their bare bodies beneath your hands.

When your fist wraps around his smooth, scorching length, Takeshi lets out a deep groan, the kind that reverberates throughout your entire body. You start to move your hand up and down, revelling at the shattered breaths you pull from him with every squeeze of your fingers.

He stops you abruptly, covering your hand with his own. “Want to come inside you,” he mutters against the shell of your ear. “But it’s only fair that Flag gets to fuck you first. He’s been waiting a long time for this.”

Your gaze falls to Rick, gloriously naked as he watches the two of you with patient intensity. You nod, flustered and frantic at the promise of having them inside you. Now that the fire has been stoked, you need more of them and urgently.

Takeshi shifts so he can slide his pants the rest of the way off and then you find yourself being repositioned. He moves you up the bed, until you are spread out and propped up against him. Slotted between his thick thighs once more, the now familiar feeling of his arousal presses against your spine. One hand returns to your breast, the other drifting south to where Rick has prepared you.

Takeshi slides a single finger inside you, finding you swollen and soaking. “Looks like he did a good job getting you ready for us.”

Unfazed by the way his friend is exploring every inch of your body, Rick crawls onto the bed until he’s hovering over you. His lips find yours and he kisses you with that same surprising tenderness. Your stomach tightens when you taste yourself on his tongue.

“You good, darlin’?” he asks, pulling away.

Trapped so tightly between the two broad men in a tangle of limbs, it should terrify you, but all you can think of is how badly you want this.

“Yes,” you reply breathlessly.

“Tell me if it gets too much.”

Takeshi grips the backs of your thighs, hauling them up towards your chest so you are obscenely spread for Rick. “Go on,” he encourages. “Fuck her, Flag.”

When it comes to you, Rick doesn’t need to be told twice. You find yourself rocked by a jolt of excitement whenever Takeshi instructs him. There’s a dynamic at work here, a shift you can sense in the colonel. At work he’s the one barking orders, but here, in the privacy of the bedroom, he takes them willingly. And it’s clear how much he likes it - that it lifts a weight from his shoulders, allowing him the freedom not to think, just to feel.

As Takeshi holds you open, Rick slowly buries himself inside you, inch by inch. No matter how well he prepared you with his fingers, the pressure still takes your breath away as he fills you so perfectly.

“Fuck, baby,” Rick groans, allowing you a moment of stillness to adjust to his size. “Your pussy feels so good. Better than I ever imagined.”

His words send a heady wave of heat through your body. He’s been thinking about this?

“Tell her how often you imagined it,” Takeshi urges, his hands returning to your breasts, squeezing, and pulling and pinching. “Tell her how often you jerked off in the shower thinking about her beautiful cunt.”

Rick stares down at you in wonder as he feels your walls flutter around him. “It’s true, darlin’. I’ve wanted this so fuckin’ much, you have no idea. Just been too scared to tell you.”

You lace your fingers around his neck and drag him down, crushing your lips to his. As he kisses you fiercely this time, you feel his hips draw back and he starts to move inside you, setting an agonisingly slow tempo. Every stroke of his cock feels like ecstasy and nestled between Takeshi’s thighs, every thrust pushes you harder against the other man’s length.

Takeshi’s heart is pounding at your back and as Rick picks up the pace, Takeshi’s hand drifts over your collarbone, his calloused fingers rising to wrap around the delicate column of your throat. You feel your walls clamp down around Rick’s cock, your breath hitching when Takeshi applies the softest amount of pressure. He could break you apart if he wanted to, both of them could.

“How does she feel, Flag?” Takeshi asks, brushing his lips against the side of your mouth.

“So fuckin’ tight,” comes Rick’s strangled reply.

Takeshi’s other hand slips between your bodies, dangerously close to where Rick splits you open. The pad of his thumb glides over your clit and you shudder, grasping at his arm as you plead with them both to continue.

Rick’s thrusts become faster, a thin sheen of sweat beginning to glisten over his beautiful chest as he pants. “Fuck, Tak. I can feel her gettin’ even tighter when you do that.”

“Don’t stop,” you agree, breathlessly, as you feel your second orgasm racing towards you.

Spurred on by your comments, Takeshi continues his ministrations. Your nerves are on fire, and you are so close to losing your composure. You tilt your hips up to meet Rick’s thrusts, allowing him to drive in deeper and deeper.

“Fuck me harder, Rick,” you whimper, digging your nails into his back. “Please. You feel so good.”

Rick complies, slamming his hips into you faster and infinitely deeper. Almost imperceptibly, Takeshi tightens his grip around your throat, but it’s still so gentle, just the ghost of a touch.

“You’re taking him so well,” he praises roughly. “You gonna come around his cock now?”

“Yes,” you cry, arching your back as his thumb continues to circle your clit with increasing speed. “I’m gonna come.”

For the second time in the space of an hour, the two men have you shattering, breaking apart at the seams as your orgasm crashes into you. Rick’s own release follows almost immediately, his hips stuttering as he curses and spills inside you.

“Oh fuck, darlin’. You’re perfect.” He slumps against you, crushing you further into his friend.

As Rick’s head falls to your chest and his lips trail over your damp skin, you slide your fingers through the lengths of his hair, wanting to keep him in place as you fight to catch your own breath. He’s everything you dreamed of and more, but at the back of your mind you are very much aware that the night is far from over.

When Rick withdraws, rolling onto the bed to lie beside Takeshi, his friend carefully turns you around until you’re straddling his waist. His jaw is clenched tight as his throbbing arousal presses against your aching centre. You have to marvel at the man’s ability to maintain his composure while Rick was fucking you against him.

You reach out to brush a lock of hair from his brow and his eyes shutter at the unexpected gentleness. “Your turn?” you suggest, your lips quirking into a shy smile.

The glimmer of softness you saw in Takeshi’s gaze vanishes and suddenly he’s lifting your hips, positioning his thick cock at your entrance. A gasp tears from your lips as you sink down around him. He’s bigger than Rick, although you wouldn’t tell from looks alone.

“Fuck, Tak,” you pant, your eyes widening as you struggle to accommodate him.

Takeshi is temporarily speechless, the only sound he makes is a low moan as you begin to roll your hips over him. Instead, he lets his hands do the talking, roving them over your body, alternating between gripping your hips and squeezing your breasts, like he just can’t get enough of you.

“You feel good, Tak. Really good.” You lean forwards and capture him in a kiss, your fingers gripping his shoulders tightly as you continue to ride him. His hips jerk up, responding to your touch, your praise.

“You were right,” Takeshi rasps to Rick when he’s finally capable of speech. “Such a fucking tight, perfect pussy. To think you’ve been missing out on this, Flag.”

“You talk too much, Tak,” Rick groans. You glance over and find him already semi hard again, fisting his cock while he watches the two of you. His hazel eyes are glassy with arousal.

“Think Flag’s feeling left out,” Takeshi grits out as you rock against him. “Turn around for him, beautiful. Let him touch you while he watches how well you take my cock.”

It takes no further encouragement for you to do as Takeshi asks. Rick helps reposition you so that you’re no longer facing Takeshi, but you’re looking at him instead. As Takeshi grips your ass, bouncing you over his cock with an increasingly brutal pace, Rick cups your jaw.

“You’re doin’ so well, baby,” he praises, peppering kisses to your cheek and jaw. “Look at you, takin’ him so deep.”

You’re a whimpering mess between the two of them, any coherent thoughts long driven out of you by the way Takeshi is fucking into you relentlessly. “Need you to come for me,” he growls from behind, squeezing your flesh.

“Don’t think I can,” you whimper, clutching Rick’s forearms to steady yourself. It’s almost too much, but it feels so good.

“You can do it, darlin’,” Rick coaxes, gripping your jaw and forcing you to look at him. “You can give us one more. Don’t think, just feel.”

His other hand dips between your legs and you choke out a sob when he finds the spot where Takeshi is spearing inside you. Gathering your slick on his fingers, he starts to rub your swollen clit.

“Oh fuck, Rick,” you yelp, reaching for his cock and squeezing him tightly, lest you lose yourself entirely to the powerful sensations overtaking your body. You want – no, need - him to feel as good as he’s making you.

You pump your hand up and down his length. He’s staring at you in awe, open mouthed and gasping with pleasure, his hazel eyes never leaving yours. With Takeshi slamming you down over his cock, and Rick strumming your throbbing clit it’s only a matter of seconds before you’re falling apart again, your eyes rolling back as you convulse around Takeshi’s cock.

“That’s it,” Takeshi grunts. “God, you’re so fucking perfect.” And with one last powerful thrust, he empties himself inside you.

“Good girl,” Rick grunts, his own release painting the taught wall of his abdomen as your hand squeezes him one final time. “That’s a good fuckin’ girl.”

The sensation of a pair of warm lips brushing over your cheek stirs you from a deep sleep. Your eyes flicker open to find Rick hovering above you. His handsome face is illuminated by the pale moonlight creeping through a gap in the curtains.

“Come with me,” he whispers, careful not to wake the other man still sleeping soundly beside you. It’s a tight squeeze for the three of you, even with Rick’s king-sized bed and you have to peel yourself away from Takeshi; his big hot body is moulded firmly around you.

Rick takes your hand, drawing you to your feet. Every part of you aches, but in the most satisfying way as he leads you out of the bedroom and across the dimly lit hallway into the bathroom. He starts the shower running, before turning to face you.

“Wanted to have you to myself just for a little while,” he admits. “That ok?”

You nod, feeling oddly exposed as you stand naked before Rick. It’s the first time you’ve been alone with him all evening. Without Takeshi as a buffer - a dominant distraction – you can feel a new kind of intimacy building between you. A new kind of nervousness, too. Because now that it’s just the two of you, it’s hard to forget that come Monday morning you will be back to being colleagues.

“How you feelin’?” His gaze travels across your face and you can sense his apprehension, the twin to your own.

“Good,” you tell him. Although the word doesn’t nearly cover it. “Great.”

His eyes crease, a tentative smile stretching over his face. His hands land on your hips, pulling you closer. “You’re amazin’, do you know that?”

You reach up and stroke his stubbled jaw, your thumb tracing over his bottom lip. “Did you mean what you said before? About wanting this - wanting us?” You ask him shyly. “Because I have, too, Rick. For the longest time.”

“Every word of it, darlin’,” he assures you, rubbing a soothing circle over your hip. “Think maybe we could see where this goes, you and me?”

“Yes,” you agree. A thousand times, yes.

Rick carefully positions you under the shower head, your back flush to his chest. With delicate hands he starts to wash you, wiping away the evidence of your earlier activities. As he works away, his lips press against your jaw, your neck, your shoulders, and it’s at this moment that you understand with certainty that whatever happened here tonight, this connection between you and Rick is real. It scares and excites you in equal measures.

Without an inch of space between your slick bodies, it’s impossible not to notice Rick’s growing desire. It stirs a heat between your own legs, and despite your exhaustion you push back against him, silently giving him permission.

“You sure, darlin’? We were pretty rough with you earlier. Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I’m sure.” You grind back against him. “Please, Rick. I need you.” You were right, earlier. One taste was all it took. You’re addicted to him.

His hand slides down the curve of your spine, splaying across your ass, parting your legs so he can slide inside you. The sound of the shower muffles your moan of pleasure as he sinks in to the hilt. It’s still a stretch. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to the size of him.

When he’s fully seated inside you, your hands fly to the wall, supporting yourself as the hot water cascading over your skin creates a feeling of intense pleasure. Rick begins to plunge in and out of you, excruciatingly slowly.

“I won’t break,” you assure him.

“I know, darlin’. Maybe it ain’t you I’m worried about.”

Before you can reply, the bathroom door opens and Takeshi walks in. “Round two, huh?” He observes with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes as he takes in the sight of Rick still buried deep in your pussy.

[chussyracing]

☕ charles because I cannot help myself

Our sweetest baby, our little sunshine, the reason we wake up in the morning, our shared community girlfriend, our tiny little cherub, our sweet lil duckling, the cutest darling, the most polite babyboy, the snuggliest cuddle bug.

chrainrot (charles brainrot) under the cut

I can never put into words what he means to me, I like him so much it makes me look silly but I’m past the point of caring now. Everyone loves him (if they don’t, they’re simply not relevant for this conversation and they can die jealous of him) because he has this bright personality that makes u smile unintentionally. He gives everyone those heart eyes and smiles with that sweet soft look on his face whether he is talking to someone on his team or other drivers or in interviews or with fans. He adores his fans almost as much as we adore him, he will spend hours signing stuff just to make everyone happy, he will give out all the caps he brought with him to a race weekend just to give it to someone he meets, he will stop to take pictures although he is all sweaty and tired and hungry and what not. And he is the best brother to Arthur and Lorenzo and you can SEE how strong that bond is and it never changed with the fame, they are still the little boys who adore each other who won’t stop protecting each other although they are more grown up now.

He is so beautiful, like so beautiful he transcends sexuality. I haven’t liked LIKED a man in years and here we are. His hair is so soft and while other drivers ruin it with a new haircut or a ton of hair gel, it never happens with charles because somehow he still pulls it off (and when he takes of his balaclava and his hair is so sweaty and all over the place, some part of me always dies inside he’s just too pretty). His eyes are the shiniest little stars and they bear so many emotions in them they can make u cry or laugh or fall in love in seconds, he’s like a siren. His cheeks are asking to be held in your palms so you can feel it when he blushes underneath and when his dimples appear so u could poke them and make him giggle. His lips are so perfectly heart-shaped it makes u question if he is real or just a figment of your imagination. They look so soft and always so pink and he never stops licking them in interviews and it drives me absolutely crazy, i need to bite my fist just thinking about it. I will skip talking about the rest becasue again, I’m gay and I could genuinely write sonnets about the shape of his tiddies and about the purpose his thighs were shaped just like THAT. Let me just tell you they are perfect exactly the way they are they serve the purpose exactly how god intended. You can shit on his fashion sense all u want but i’m kinda digging it. He just pulls it off although I wouldn’t wear half the stuff in his closet (closet lol, no more gay jokes i know, i will shut up). You know how the clothes would look even better? on the bedroom floor. And his voice and his accent aww I could cry sometimes when he talks and i also wanna make a tape to listen to to fall asleep instead of a lullaby. He is so smart it only makes sense he can switch between like 6 languages. Idk what is bigger his brain his heart or his [redacted] (unrelated but one day we need to speak about his hands and fingers and rings and how he grips the wheel and how he stroked that trophy and how he plays piano gently and about the veins good lord take mercy on me)

Last but not least of course, he is such a talented driver. It was literally meant to be, he couldn’t be anywhere but in Ferrari. The fate threw everything at him and yet here we are, look at him thriving, look at him serving cunt, look at him being faster than anyone else on the track, look at him thinking about the race like a game of chess, knowing where to overtake anyone what is each driver’s weakness, where he gains and losts the most. He worked so hard on himself both mentally and physically and now they provided him with a car to shine and i can’t believe some people are only catching up now like sorry u uncultured swine why don’t u rewatch the whole 2017 f2 season and maybe u realize why he is called il predestinato. He can smash alfa 37902 B on his wheel while drivin 250 kmph, he can wave to the fans while speeding around the track, he has DEVILISH starts and can overtake from outside and from inside, he can pull out a perfect 360° and continue his lap unbothered and he can fucking pull xavi’s leg on the radio in the last lap of a race that ended prematurely for many drivers due to reliability issues. i am asking IS THERE ANYTHING THIS MAN CAN’T DO?

Send ☕ + [topic] for spicy opinions

[infinitefandomimagines]

I Can’t Lose You - Poe Dameron x Reader

-

WARNINGS: RISE OF SKYWALKER SPOILERS, MENTIONS OF DEATH, MENTIONS OF TORTURE, ANGST, BLOOD, YELLING

REQUEST: @lookinsidemyhead could I maybe ask for a Star Wars imagine? Like a poexfem!reader Maybe like instead of chewie being captured it was the reader and when they rescue her she’s a little out it from the torture in the interrogation room. angst with happy ending bc they escape

+

A poe dameron tros x reader where reader gets captured with chewy and poe rescues her, lots of angsty poe after losing reader because he thinks she's dead, then fluff when they reunite

-

The only thing that could pull the team's stunned gazes from the fiery explosion of the First Order ship was Poe's horrifying scream. The way your name ripped through his throat made Finn's heart stop and his blood run cold.

Poe took no caution in his efforts to make his way down from the rocky structure their getaway ship stood perched on, slipping and nearly falling more than once.

His heels kicked up sand as he sprinted towards the wrecked ship and Rey, who still stood frozen as the realization of what she'd just done dawned on her. Finn had to stop Poe from running straight to her, he'd never hurt Rey, but after what just happened he definitely wasn't thinking straight.

Finn wrapped his arms around his friend, holding him back and restricting his movement as he struggled to get free.

"What did you do?" Poe yelled at Rey, the high pitched crack in his voice was enough to send daggers through anyone listening's heart. Poe never stopped struggling to break free from Finn's grasp, and it was getting to the point where he just might succeed.

"Chewie I need some help down here!" Finn called up to the Wookie. There was no way he could get Poe to the ship himself, not when he was like this.

"Poe we need to go!" Finn yelled as he tried to pull Poe towards the ship, knowing if they stayed any longer your life wouldn't be the only fatality.

"No! No, I can't leave her!"

"She's gone, Poe. There's nothing we can-"

Finn stopped short as Poe finally broke free from his grasp. However, he didn't get very far, Chewie had made it down just in time to grab him.

"Chewie!" Finn yelled out, "Get him to the ship we need to get out of here! Rey come on!" Poe tried to fight his way out again, but the Wookie was too strong, forcibly pulling him back to the ship. He didn't stop fighting until Chewie released him once the ship had taken off with everyone safely inside.

There was a heavy tension in the air, nobody knew what to say. It's like they were just waiting for Poe to lash out like he usually did when he was upset, but he didn't. The burst of yelling and cursing the team was anxiously waiting for never came. Instead, he simply collapsed onto a storage box and with his head in his hands, he sobbed.

Finn watched his best friend, one who usually stood so strong and fiery, completely fall apart. Rey's heart ached in a way she didn't know it could, the thought that she'd caused this haunting her mind.

BB-8 slowly rolled over to Poe, letting out a series of confused beeps. "She's gone, buddy," Poe said in a broken voice. The small droid let out a high pitched whine mixed with sad beeps.

"This can't be for nothing," Finn finally spoke up, his voice soft as he struggled to speak through his own tears. "We can't let her die for nothing."

"She had the dagger with her, and without that. . ." Rey's voice was grim.

"So true, the inscription lives only in my memory now," C-3PO spoke up. All heads turned towards the droid. "Hang on, the inscription from the dagger is in your memory?" Finn asked.

"Yes master Finn, but the translation from a forbidden language cannot be retrieved, that is short of a complete redactive memory bypass. It is an extremely dangerous procedure usually performed by criminals."

"Alright, how do we do that?" Finn asked as if there was no question as to what the next step was.

"I know a black market droidsmith," Poe finally spoke up, his eyes glazed over and red. "He's on Kijimi." Poe didn't like the idea of going to Kijimi, but he didn't like the idea of you dying for nothing more.

"For Y/N," Finn said, giving Poe's shoulder a squeeze. "Yeah, for Y/N," Poe repeated, the sound of your name leaving a sad and bitter taste in his mouth.

-

Kijimi went just about how Poe thought it would. They had a rocky start, but in the end, they were able to retrieve the inscription from C-3PO's memory.

The droid's eyes glowed an ominous red as it recited the location to the Wayfinder.

"The Endor system? Where the last war ended?" Finn asked. No one had the opportunity to answer him as the entire building started shaking. Everyone shared concerned looks, but it was Rey who was the first to run outside to see what was causing the commotion.

"Ren's destroyer," she announced, looking up at the large, menacing ship. "He's here?" Finn asked, looking up at her. But Rey didn't answer, it seemed as though her entire body had gone stiff. "Y/N. . ." She spoke softly, but loud enough for Finn and Poe to hear.

"What about her?" Poe asked bitterly, your name sending a dagger through his heart.

"She's alive, she's on that ship," Rey turned around to face her friends.

"What?" Poe whispered, his voice cracking slightly. Tears stung the back of his eyes, but this time the tears weren't ones of sorrow. He felt a small glimmer of hope bubble up inside of him. He no longer slouched, his back straightening up and shoulders rolling back, Rey's words bringing a new light to his eyes.

"How is that possible?" Finn questioned.

"She must have been on a different transport," Rey spoke, her words still laced with disbelief.

"We have to go get her," Poe said eagerly, grabbing his things and looking around at the group. Everyone nodded in agreement, all except C-3PO, who sat confused, his only thought being to introduce himself.

"Yeah, that's gonna be a problem," Poe muttered, a little annoyed at their situation, but not even C-3PO's lost memory could damage his spirits. His head already fantasizing about seeing you again, creating multiple scenarios in his head.

Once everyone was ready, they rushed from Zorii's hideout, the girl following them just to be sure they made it to their ship.

"Thank you," Poe rushed out to Zorii once they'd reached their ship. He didn't plan on waiting for a response, but a grip on his forearm stopped him dead in his tracks. "Poe-" Zorii spoke up, only to be cut short.

"I'm sorry, I have to go, but you can come with us," He offered. Though his feelings for his past relationship were gone, he still cared about Zorii as a friend and leaving her behind just felt wrong. But Zorii shook her head, "I can't," she answered sadly, "But take this, it'll grant you passage to Ren's ship."

Poe stared at the shiny medallion, "I can't, it's yours-"

"Anyone two eyes and half a brain can see how much you care about this girl, it's worth more to you than it is to me."

Poe paused before lifting his hands and gently taking the medallion from Zorii, "Thank you," he breathed out, wrapping Zorii in a tight embrace. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

Zorii chuckled a bit as she returned the hug before lightly pushing Poe towards his ship, "Now go, save your girl and win the war."

Poe nodded, mumbling one more 'thank you' before boarding the ship with the others.

-

Getting inside Ren's destroyer had been easier than anticipated, especially with the held of the medallion. However, searching the maze of a ship deemed a difficult task. It seemed as though with each hall they turned down there were more and more stormtroopers.

The next corner they turned no one had their blasters at the ready. Rey quickly jumped in front of Finn and Poe, waving her hand in front of the stormtroopers, "It is okay that we are here," she rushed out.

"It is okay that you're here," one of the troopers repeated.

"You're relieved that we're here."

"Oh thank God you're here," The trooper's shoulders relaxed and he lowered his blaster to his side, as did the other.

"Does she do that to us?" Poe asked, a little confused as to what exactly just happened. Rey just ignored him, instead, she asked the troopers for where you were being held, which they gladly provided.

It was a mad dash to the room you were in, the name of the room being "Interrogation room #6" worrying him.

At some point, Rey ran off on her own, but when Finn tried to follow her Poe gripped his arm, "We need to find Y/N, Rey can handle herself." Chewie howled in agreement with Poe, and Finn knew better than to argue with his friends.

It didn't take long to reach the room you were being held in and even less to shoot the lock on the door and bust in. Poe winced as he entered the familiar room, the dark lighting and metal chair-like structure sending painful memories of his time spent being tortured by Kylo Ren. He didn't even want to imagine what you must have been through, though sadly he could.

Poe quickly shook all thoughts that plagued his mind, you were the only thing that mattered right now. Nothing else. He approached the chair slowly, scared that what he finds might not be what he hoped for.

His heart sank when he saw your unconscious form strapped down to the chair by restraints. A bruise had already formed on the left side of your face, just over your cheekbone. There was a bloody cut that stretched across your right temple which was beginning to form its own bruise, and a trail of blood trickled down and dripped onto your shirt from your nose. Your chest moved up and down slowly as you took in shallow breaths. Poe didn't even want to imagine what the parts of you he couldn't see looked like.

Poe gently placed his shaking hands on either side of your cheeks, cupping your face. The pad of his thumb lightly brushed over you bruise, examining it. "Y/N," he spoke softly, "Y/N, baby please wake up."

Your entire body suddenly tensed up as your struggled against your restraints, prompting Poe to quickly pull his hands away from you, terrified he hurt you.

"No, please. . ." You mumbled, not fully awake, your eyes screwed shut. "Please. . . Don't."

"We need to get her out of these restraints," Poe instructed, trying his best to hide the panic in his voice. Chewie let out a wail, pressing a red button on the wall adjacent to the chair. There was a hissing sound followed by a click as your restraints popped open.

You blinked your eyes a bit at the noise and sudden release of pressure on your wrists and ankles. A familiar face came into view as you blinked away the hazy glaze from your eyes.

"Poe?" You whispered, not quite sure if Kylo Ren was playing tricks on your mind again or not.

"It's me, baby, you're okay." He said, helping you out of the metal chair and pulling you into his arms. One arm wrapped around your waist as the other held the back of your head, your cheeks resting against his chest. You winced as he accidentally pressed against your bruised ribcage, but in all honesty, you didn't care. You were just relieved to be back in his arms, and Poe was more than happy to have you there.

"I'm so sorry," he mumbled into your hair, "I shouldn't have let you go out there alone."

"It's not your fault, you couldn't have known."

"Guys I really hate to break up the moment, but we gotta go!" Finn rushed out, earning a bellow of agreement from Chewie.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay," Poe said, pulling away from the embrace. "Can you walk?"

You nodded, however as soon as you took the first step forward your head started spinning and your vision blurred. You quickly reached out and gripped Poe's arm to stop yourself from losing balance. Poe instinctively caught you, holding up the majority of your weight.

"Chewie!" Poe called out, gesturing to you. The Wookie swiftly placed your arm around his waist, and wrapped a furry arm around your back and under your arm, holding you up.

Poe and Finn walked ahead of you, blasters at the ready, inspecting each hallway for hostiles. You limped behind them, Chewie helping you walk by holding you upright.

And after Poe being shot, all four of you nearly being executed, only to be saved by an unlikely ally, you made it to the Millennium Falcon.

Chewie gently set you down on the small cot in Poe's quarters while Finn rushed to the cockpit, trying his best to remember everything Poe had taught him about flying. Chewie soon joined him, helping him get the Falcon in the air so they could go find Rey.

Poe stayed with you in his quarters, sorting through a med pack to find supplies to bandage and clean your wounds. A soft groan escaped your throat as the ship took a sharp turn, harshly shaking the cot you were laying on, sending a wave of pain through your body.

Poe wet a cloth and started dabbing at the dried blood on your temple. You let out a hiss as the sudden contact stung. Poe slipped his free hand into yours, attempting to provide any form of comfort he could.

"What did they do to you?" Poe asked as he moved to clean the blood from under your nose. The question wasn't directed towards you, more of Poe just thinking out loud. However, his question still sent a chill up your spine as you began to replay the horrible things Kylo Ren and his minions did to get information out of you. You were able to refrain from giving them anything up until Kylo Ren used the force to crawl around in your mind. The pain was indescribable.

"Hey, it's okay," Poe comforted, stopping what he was doing. He'd noticed the grimace on your face and how you tensed up when he brought up his question. "You're safe, he can't hurt you."

You nodded weakly, waiting for the horrible thoughts to pass as Poe got back to work.

Poe worked quickly to clean and bandage your wounds, finishing up a matter of minutes. While he packed up the medical kit, you attempted to sit up, but the action proved to be a bit more painful than you anticipated. You inhaled sharply as a sharp pain exploded from your side, your hand instinctively flew to your bruised ribcage, holding it as if that would help the pain subside.

"Here, let me help," Poe said softly when he noticed your struggle. He placed a hand on your back and the other lightly grabbed your arm as he pulled you to a sitting position on the edge of the bed. Your hand still clutched your side as you squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for the pain to dissipate.

The bed sank beside you as Poe took a seat beside you, his hand rubbing comforting circle in your back. You leaned into him, resting your forehead on his shoulder.

"Do you want something for the pain," he asked, there was a bit of tension in his voice as he tried to hold back tears, he hated seeing you in so much pain. "No, it'll pass. I'm fine." And eventually, it did, leaving you relieved and a bit more cautious about how you moved.

You lifted your head from Poe's shoulder, your eyes meeting his. A soft smile graced his lips and his hand moved from your back to your neck, his thumb resting on your jaw. "I thought I'd lost you," he said in a shaky voice, tears threatening to spill. "And it made me realize you're the one thing I can't live without."

You wrapped your fingers around Poe's arm, just below his wrist, rubbing small circles in the back of his hand with the pad of your thumb.

"I can't lose you," his voice cracked as his eyes glazed over with tears.

"You won't, I promise," you confirmed.

Poe pulled you into him, gently pressing his lips to yours. His hand slid down from your neck to your waist, his other hand finding it's way to your hip. He pulled you into his lap, breaking the kiss to fully envelop you in a hug, careful not to touch your bruised side. One arm kept hold of your waist while the other crossed your back, his hand placed on your shoulder. Poe rested his head in the crook of your neck, holding you close.

You rested a hand on his back while the other held the back of his head. You lightly ran your fingers through his messy curls.

You let out a sigh of content, finally feeling at ease being in Poe's arms. "I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere."

TAG LIST

@gracielou0518 @booklove103

[swynlake-spill]

Boba, please bully some of our shyer residents into posting selfies! I am dying for some Rarer Insta Content.

ok i’ll try here we go 

@vixey-chakraborty KEEP THE COW CONTENT COMING BUT ALSO LET UR OWN NATURAL RADIANCE SHINE!!! I LOVE U PLEASE IM ASKING SO NICELY BUT ALSO VERY LOUDLY SO EVERYONE CAN HEAR 

@rikuxnakayama sir  i cannot keep buying overpriced coffee from [name redacted] just for the ten seconds of eye contact we have i simply do not make enough money have pity on me and POST 

@vitani-blackwell u arent really shy so i dont understand how you are not posting daily thirst traps i have seen your body and therefore seen god please RESUME REGULAR CONTENT 

@melody-the-unwritten typing ur username just now made me cry. :( melody i MISS YOu. melody i dont think u understand u could be miss swynlake if u wanted... this is your YEAR

@princess-ting-ting you post extremely quality pics of your fish and family jigsaw puzzles and stuff and thats valid and good plz dont stop but also you are the qin i respect in this world and i think you deserve to be told how beautiful u are js 

@littlelectriceelduh ur mysterious and look like the boy my mum warned me about. plz indulge my worst desires and help me star in my very own all time low pop punk fantasy 

@arista-the-musical BLASPHEMY that i am tagging a triton wtf did your sisters teach u!! arista when i say that i believe if you post selfies tagged #stopglobalwarming that it could maybe inspire a movement im not even being hyperbolic i think the power is in your hands and you should use it 

@cinderellaashbourne HONEY PLEASE COME HOME tiana as her roommate why are you not instilling in ella the confidence needed to become a powerhouse insta mom im just saying she could build an empire off her smile 

@babettexdurand seeing u makes me go  🥺 🥺 🥺 🥺 🥺 🥺 sincerely do not think there are words... 

@evil--endeavors you want to be taken seriously as a business woman, totally fair! however, fourth wave feminism said stuff about idk owning ur sexuality or-- nvm dont do it for me do it for the young LESBIANS. also kick me in the face :) 

@one-lucky-lad small confession...i have a crush on this darling I KNOW I KNOW HOW EMBARRASSING however i am not immune to the specific charms of his beautiful blue eyes. im just saying haha what if we kissed 

@tink-bell tink used to post all the time but then she got her heart broken or something and i just think she needs to build up all that very valid fierce tink bell confidence she was famous for!! tink PLEASE give me the bed selfie i know you have! txt me u up ;) ? ask me to netflix and chill! also post on instagram obviously! 

@sanmononoke what is going on with this person real talk besides ofc being very hot as per swynlake’s hotness requirement. idk if she has an instagram. bet she’d post like feet pics and shit like that. think that we need a little bit of that spice in swynlake dont you!!! 

@moon-yeongjun frankly it is a crime that we are all collectively robbed of the journey that would be jun moon instagram experience. if you dont think he’s hot you’re lying to yourself!! new rule every time jun posts a petition he owes us a selfie its only fair idk im once again putting tiana to the task of making that happen

@notmuchofatail he’s been posting more lately but it is not enough for me. gregory eeyore is my past present and future. like im in love with him is what im saying. 

@a-merman-not-a-guppy stop pretending like you’re not a handsome lad its EMBARRASSING. what is the point also of designing ur own clothes if you arent putting up your wares on instagram. again this is just common sense i cannot believe im giving this immaculate advice for free. 

@notbad-justsungthatway again she posts decently but i think she should post more bc she is easily in the ten hottest people ever in swynlake. its a fact not an opinion and we’d all feel a lot calmer if she was active daily on instagram

@pinkpearlpark the coolest of the teens!! i need her to post so she can teach ME how to post. like idk what im doing teach me the ways of being an attractive rich cool person miss park! 

@bucktoothed--ice-prince again idk whats going on here he’s this very mysterious stranger who blew into town out of nowhere. maybe going without an instagram is the whole point but i would rather write dumb things on ur posts tbh

@trickster-knownas-pan AND A THIRD person who i know nothing about. maybe i am just nosy but also you are hot so you owe me something thats how survival of the fittest works maybe !!!!!!! i failed science three times!!!! 

@devyn-morey lol i know he posts a lot but obviously! obviously! 

@geehosaphat on the other hand martin has two posts on his instagram maybe and thats abysmal. martin you do realize you’re like. hot right. i mean it like you could be in a magazine. you’re hot. take off your shirt sometime maybe if you’re comfortable so you can flaunt it! 

@winndeavor again i know ur a serious business person who has a certain brand to maintain. on the other hand: you have abs. much to think about i know. 

@hclyghcst DISGUSTING that you could win jewel of the season or w/e and then disappear from my life. you owe me like ten selfies at this point! you’re cute kind and a good friend to people in your life! fuck im obsessed with u!! 

@vvinter-queen and now we shout out to her sister ANNA to help her. anna how is it that u have a moderately thriving bookstagram and yet elsa has no idea what a filter is. intervene. fix it. she’s beautiful. imagine how much ice cream u will sell. 

@gleamdncglow u dont have to post bc it might actually piss me off considering how pretty you are. but if you want to i guess (please please please please please please) 

@gabriella-marino you know what’s the best way to get to know ppl in town and make friends! yeah ur right, its thirst traps on instagram! i think you’re so cute on a serious note please tell me more about u...maybe in the captions on your thirst trap for instagram! 

@edwardandalasia honestly just curious how it would go if someone showed edward who is maybe suffering from some textbook case of amnesia how instagram works. you also have the best skin ive ever seen. send me ur tips. ok thank u!!!

[vxmorpheus]

Dr. [REDACTED] has foolishly continued his project. Stop. Him. Or. Else.

That is all.

Signed,

[DATA EXPUNGED]

.

.

.

.

OOC: I hope things get better for you, I really wish I could help but I am a simple poor man still living with his dad. If you need me to pause with this roleplay stuff - since it deals with sensitive topics and can be stressful - just DM me and I'll wait. Please take care of yourself best you can, I'm proud of you for making it so far! ~°θ{ Murdoc

Dr. Williams has every right to continue his project. I know what you want to say "no he doesn't, I created him. He is not human." blah blah blah. You spout the regular bullshit as anyone else with your point of view.

Do you find the world so bleak that something created cannot live? Are you so inside your own mirror to only see yourself and not others? You are, in a way, Dr. Williams father... if you made him, personality and such. Did your father treat you with like you treat Dr. Williams?

Perhaps I hit a sensitive note. "You don't/didn't know my father", "don't talk about him, you have no right to", "my father was a good man", etc etc... moving on

Do you not value what you have created? Look at him. Look at Jacob. He was given a body he did not choose. He was given programing he did not choose. He was forced to do terrible things. He began to feel... and he didn't choose that either. We blind ourselves with the thought we are making our own choices... but are we really? You chose to make him and he didn't ask for it, he didn't ask for anything that has been done to him.

Ah why am I bothering to appeal to a small shred of humanity that I may just be imagining.

While I do find it... strange... with what he has done... I am happy that he seems happy. This a small bit of good that has happened so far... and he chose to make him. To bring him back.

In all honesty... if I had died in such a manner, unprepared, agonizing, being eaten by your own body from the inside, no chance to say anything to anyone like besides scream in pain... never getting to say good bye. Never being able to see anyone you love in your last moments. I... I would want Morpheus to bring me back. Even if it's for a moment, just long enough to...

God, I'm getting emotional.

Is that a threat? How am I to stop him when he can simply choose to ignore my request? Why would I even want to stop him? Is this not an interesting thing to see how it plays out? To see how much someone's personhood could be brought back? To see if the great minds of this world could store memories in recordings and videos and on their death... someone would make them anew.

I wonder... how many memories he can get back? How would he feel? How would anyone, if brought back, feel? To be told that you died? How would anyone handle such a thing?

Nevertheless, I am afraid I can't help you at all. You've given me no reason to trust you or even see you as a feeling human being. So, yeah... I guess I am foolish.

~~~ Dr. V

It's ok, if I wasn't ready for roleplaying, I wouldn't have made the Sam post. Thank you very much for all your kind words (/gen). I am trudging through the mud, but I know at some point I'll find a place to rest and enjoy life. Also, thanks for thinking about helping me. It means a lot. You're not obligated to do so, even if you were able to. But... bring on the story and writing, I am here for it.

[tyraunt]

RULES:  List five tropes applicable to your character, then tag others to do the same. (Tropes Wiki) 

Tragic Villain / From Nobody to Nightmare - It is known that Kaleb never really wanted the position he is in right now: that circumstances forced him to turn into what he is today. If raised normally (Under Normal Circumstances [tm]), he would just be. A normal man who was incredibly sheltered his whole life with a deep interest in Music and Arts.

But we all know it is not what happened! So you all have to deal with battle-hungry evil tyrant.    Royals Who Actually Do Something / Warrior Prince - Considering the Blackwoods were originally assigned with the protection/military forces of the kingdom before they also assumed the crown upon the disappearance of the last member of the royal family, it is not difficult to assume they continue to rule in those matters also. He was trained not to sit idly, but to command and to defend himself. To bring victory and honor, no matter what it takes.   Forgot I Could Change The Rules - Related to the first point actually! “You are the king why can’t you change things” “Because this is how things always have been” “You can change it right” “No I cannot”. Why not? A pleasant surprise :) Even Evil Has Loved Ones - His mother! And [redacted]. The reason why he simply does not change the system is related to how he was manipulated, and that he simply cannot execute the people who blatantly go against it. After all, that would also be... killing someone he is so desperate to impress.  Cain and Abel/Hates Their Parent - Him and Svein are basically this! Not that Svein cares much about Kaleb at all, but if you mention his brother near him it might be the last thing you will ever do. Talking about his father is also off limits, but I made a post about how he just ends up becoming What He Hates and what he hates is the very image of his Father. He unwillingly has followed Jörn’s every footstep, and it is not something he can ever change. Or will admit. 

Considering he starts to physically resembling his father and how he avoids mirrors once he does so, you can only imagine the can of worms that exists regarding this subject.

Tagged by: @exrhlab  (Thank you! So much!) Tagging: @kesil (do it for Svein and Alistair. Yes I Do Make The Rules), @frostweaved, @luxaether, @eternalwhite, @duskyverdict (either Okishur or My Tall Boy Arlas), @synnthos, @aaternum also you who is reading this post. yes you

[tazsuggestion]

i havent listened to graduation heres my best guess at the pcs:

clints character: i know fitzroy is the little barbarian and no-name is the firbolg and therefore argo keene is this guy but i just cannot connect the name to the man. its simply not correct. otherwise ive been imagining him as a significantly less awful adult er*dan (i did not read homestuck), and he reminds me of a character whos not that but i cant think who. he haunts me. genasi.. rogue? maybe?

fitzroy: he needs to be buff because hes a barbarian but i can also only imagine him as a manlet. for some reason he reads harder as a halfling than a half.. elf.. which im 98% sure he is. i sincerely cant imagine this dude has a sad backstory unless maybe its some caleb widogast style shit, in which case God Help You All

the firbolg/buddy/no name/[REDACTED]: im a lesbian but this guy is my boyfriend i think. i thought he was they/them nb for like a whole day after grad ep 1 came out and im a little sad it turned out otherwise. i think he is a druid. he has a little pegasus friend and he sounds like an elder demon and he cant do math. i reiterate: My Boyfriend. thanks juice

honorable mention: rainer is the only npc whose name i remember and im madly in love with her

[arokaladin]

right so after seeing me moan the other day that I’d never get to tell Brandon Sanderson how grateful I am for Kaladin coming across as so aro to me, @lupitup messaged me saying they’d be able to get a message to him through someone they knew and so I wrote over 1500 words, 

anyway if you’d like to read it too, here it is!

oathbringer spoilers under the cut

Dear Mr Sanderson,

This letter, if you can call it that, is not intended to be unsolicited advice about your characters, nor even really a suggestion. I trust your plans for your own writing immensely and even if I didn’t I respect your right to your own decisions. Merely, I want to explain why from the point of view of an aromantic, the way you have so far chosen to write Kaladin Stormblessed is so incredibly important.

As someone who has expressed interest in writing an asexual character, I’m sure you are aware how little media representation asexuals are given, and how that amount decreases even further still for aromantics. (In fact, there are only two characters to my knowledge who have even been referred to as ‘aromantic’ by their creators, and neither have had the word used about them within the universe they existed in.)

Beyond our lack of ‘official’ characters to see ourselves in, aromantics often have a very difficult time finding any characters at all who we can relate to, since everyone is eventually, Harry Potter epilogue style, arbitrarily paired off so that the audience can be reassured they found their inevitable happy ending in the form of romantic love. Since otherwise, to the eyes of the world, they would have had no worth, love from friends and family not filling the aching gap they would surely have felt if not for the arrival of their perfect ‘other half’.

Even characters whom my community can initially relate to inevitably go on to alienate us. The loveless protagonists of each and every children’s novel that I enjoyed in the days before I knew what I was were all given a hint of a love interest in the last book of the series, just as reassurance that they were growing up. But I never grew up in that sense, and remained simultaneously more and less mature than my peers, never having seen that coming of age and yet achingly above it all. I imagine I seem, just as Kaladin seems to me, to be too old for my age and yet at the same time too unknowing, too naïve.

So even in the time after Words of Radiance and before Oathbringer, I was forever indebted to you for giving me Kaladin. Little details made my heart cry out in a kinship for him that I’d never been able to feel before; That it didn’t cross his mind that his men might start to get married, that he felt anxious at the idea of not knowing where his friends were, that compared to other characters of a similar age who were at the forefront of the books, he seemed painfully oblivious to the world of romance.

And then came Oathbringer, the book the world needed in 2017, that was hopeful in the face of the apocalypse and in my eyes, with its themes of belonging and self-acceptance and the healing power of unconditional love, inherently queer. This book cemented for me that Kaladin not only could be read as on the aromantic spectrum, if the reader so wished, but naturally lent himself to a reading of that manner. And I cannot express how ecstatic it made me not just to see my own traits reflected in him but to see them respected.

Never before had I been able to read about a character who reflected my own feelings without those feelings portrayed as something to grow out of. Never before had I been able to read about a character who planned their life around their friends in the way that we all do as children, and that aromantics continue to do our whole lives, never having the treasured way we regard platonic love usurped by the eventual first feelings of romantic love. It never even crossed my mind that a character could be allowed to feel that way and not be harassed into feeling differently. Never before had I read about a character who couldn’t stomach seeing people kiss without that character being, well, an actual child. Never before had I read about a character who dreaded their friends pairing up and leaving them (as it seems to me the line ‘he liked them both… just not together’ seems to imply) without it being revealed that the character in question was secretly jealous and wanted a romantic relationship for themselves.

Never before have I read about a character who shared my innermost feelings and not seen those feelings laughed at and ripped away.

For me the importance of Kaladin as a character this stands out possibly the most in one of Oathbringer’s final scenes, in which Kaladin reflects on his feelings for Shallan. First of all, I was overjoyed that Kal was allowed to defend himself against the person, or in this case spren, insisting that he had romantic feelings. In any other book he would have ended up either with Shallan or as part of a drawn-out love triangle, and any claims that he didn’t have feelings for her would have been disrespected, taken as lies to be inevitably disproven. In Oathbringer however, despite Syl acting as amatonormativity (the harmful assumption that romantic relationships are central to every person’s life and that everyone’s goal is to have one.) personified, a role normally portrayed as the voice of reason, it is she who is proved wrong and Kaladin is allowed the dignity of explaining his own feelings as soon as he begins to understand them.

Secondly… that ‘something’ Kaladin says he does feel for Shallan? Within the aromantic community we’d likely call that a ‘squish’: essentially the platonic parallel to the traditional crush and characterised by strong non-romantic feelings for a person that you desperately hope will become a friend. The majority of aromantics you speak to will have at some point mistaken a squish for a crush before they had the language to more accurately describe themselves and their attraction. I myself had the same experience with a boy a few years ago as Kaladin does with Shallan, even down to believing I had romantic feelings based on how nice and friendly I thought his smile was.

I could probably talk for much longer on the subtle facets of Kaladin’s characterisation that allow me to see myself for the first time reflected back. About how his interest in Tarah’s clothes almost more than her face amuses me so much because I’m reminded of the countless times when I mistook aesthetic appreciation of garments for physical attraction towards their wearers. About how him having to be told by Rock about Peet’s flirtation with a barmaid hits home because I’m oblivious to my friends’ romantic endeavours until they tell me explicitly that they are in fact romantic endeavours. About how validated I felt that Kaladin internally refers to public displays of affection as ‘nauseating’, a phrase that’s sometimes only half as blunt and offensive as the ones I’d use to describe my physical state when I have to witness upsettingly romantic acts.

I could talk too, about how your portrayal of romantic love, especially in more recent books, manages not to alienate me from your works by never assuming that the emotion is a one off destined thing, better than any other, or even inherently meaningful and therefore always fated to end in a relationship. How red flags (like Kabsal’s strange willingness to leave his life behind for a girl he had just met) are treated as dangerous rather than romantic. How characters like Dalinar and Navani are allowed to find their ‘one true love’ for a second time. How Shallan and Adolin are allowed to be friends, have silly fun, and cheer each other on in a way so refreshingly free from clichés that I felt able to root for their relationship.

But I’ll simply repeat: Thank you for Kaladin. Thank you for a character that as a young adult, struggling with depression much like him, I found myself able to relate to in another way, one that is even more rare and more precious to me because of that. Thank you for, even if inadvertently, making space for people like me in your fiction and allowing me the privilege of my method of escapism legitimising my experiences rather than jolting me back into my real world alienation and loneliness. Thank you for giving me a hero who shares some of the traits I hate the most about myself. Thank you for the books that have become central and significant and cherished in my life over the last two (almost three!) years. Thank you for Kaladin Stormblessed.

I hope the conclusions I’ve made here have in no way offended you or infringed on the way in which you view your own characters. I only mean to express how they seem to me and why that means so much. Thank you for reading this.

(I’d also like to apologise for the length of this letter. To explain that a little: I think about most of the things I’ve said here almost every day of my life and for the longest time have had no way to express my gratitude to you. Also, I tend to get carried away when I write. I’m sure you can relate to that.)

Yours sincerely,

[REDACTED]

[endwalkr]

this is an ask based thingy but im really in the mood to infodump so im just gonna answer them all under the cut !

Favorite video game?

starting off with the absolute hardest question huh? i can’t possibly name ONE favorite game of mine because i adore my favorites for many different reasons. my overall favorite video game is ffxv or botw. ffxv because it has brought me so much joy for such a long time, and because i have such a connection with the characters. botw because i was actually in the fandom when it first got announced in 2016 so i got to be there when the hype was at an all time high– and finally being able to play the game after waiting for so long was an unforgettable experience. i have more favorite games but ill talk more about them in the ‘’special place in ur heart’’ question.

First console you owned?

my first console wasn’t a console. my friend and i used to play on her nintendo dsi all the time and at one point tiny little me reeeally wanted one of my own so i saved up and got one in [redacted] when i was 7. my first actual console was a wii though, we got that around the same time.

A game that holds a special place in your heart?

ffxv and botw mean the absolute world to me, but super mario galaxy and skyward sword are very important to me too. skyward sword is the game that got me into zelda which got me into anime which got me into final fantasy etc etc etc.  super mario galaxy was the first non-mini game collection and more adventure story-ish game i played. i was so proud when i beat it for the first time and mario was my first ever ‘’fandom’’ :’) 

Favorite video game character?

bro. i cant pick just one so i’ll choose one per game : prompto, ryuji and link. they were all my comfort characters at some point and i projected like crazy onto them. this doesnt mean that i wouldnt absolutely die for noct or zelda. 

Least favorite video game character?

i dont think theres anyone i distinctly dislike? i always talk about hating ardyn but that’s because he’s just a salty bitch. as a character i think he’s a great villain and i rly love him. i honestly always end up liking everyone somehow, maybe there is someone i just forgot about but i cant remember at all. 

Favorite genre?

adventure games, or action rpgs. 

Video game character you’ve had a crush on?

every character ever, but i distinctly remember the moment i fell in love with prompto sjghfkshd i was watching a playthrough of xv in december 2016 because i didnt have a ps4, and the guy got to the scene in galdin quay where the bros learn insomnia fell. i had watched about 6 hours of the game by that time and wasn’t particularly interested in the characters but not uninterested enough to drop it. i hadnt even gotten a good look at the characters faces yet, so when the camera zoomed in on prompto when he said ‘’might not be save for us here!’’ i noticed he had freckles. oh god. oh fuck. oh my god hes fucking cute. oh my god better watch 30 hours of this game now

First video game you remember playing?

wayyy before i got my own gaming systems, my then-best friend had a gamecube in her attic. i was around 5 or 6 at the time. whenever i was over at her house and we didnt know what to do, she’d sometimes propose to play ‘’mario kart’’. important is that we are dutch, and i was a literal child. i thought mario KART meant it was a fucking card game, so i always declined whenever she asked. on one fateful day, i finally gave in and was pleasantly surprised it was in fact not a card game, but a viddy game. so we played mario kart double dash. (…i had never played a video game in my life besides browser flash games and was Very Very bad)

Age you started gaming?

so i played my first video game that i didnt own when i was about 5 or 6. then i got my first supply of games at age 7/8, but i dont really consider that time to be when i started ‘’gaming’’. i’d say that was when i started mario galaxy, so i’ve been playing video games for real (ie. story adventure games with boss battles) for about 6 years now.

Hardest video game you’ve played?

this is gonna sound stupid, but the witcher 3. there’s like 7 difficulties and i played on the EASIEST and still had a hard time, i just couldnt get used to the combat. i had the same problem with assassin’s creed syndicate, but after about 10 hours i actually knew what i was doing, and ive played the witcher longer than that and still am clueless. this is kind of an unpopular opinion but i dont particularly like that game

Video game you’ve spent the most time on?

i guess i am what you’d call a casual gamer; i really like video games but during a normal school week i only game for like 2-6 hours. most of the time i dont play for like 2 weeks if im busy. gaming has kind of taken over my life not because i play so much but because i get so emotionally invested lol i’m currently on summer break and even now im not playing a lot because of exhaustion and executive dysfunction. this derailed slightly but the game i’ve played the most despite my casual gamer status is …. … …. ffxv. surprise, right? the runner up is botw, but xv wins by a landslide. 630+ hours. botw is 350. my main save in ffxv is almost 200 hours i think. damn. i really managed to keep myself entertained with that game… (………i was thinking recently, since the loading screens in xv are so long, how much of this total amount was spent watching screens. i imagine it’s several hours, especially if you fast travel a lot.)

Most embarrassing gaming moment?

many moments in my gaming experience are embarrassing, but a more recent one: i was in xv’s postgame, beating some dungeons on my new save file. i had just finished daurell caverns and hadn’t saved in about 2 hours. (uh oh) i was driving around in the regalia type d and got to the big cliff near lestallum, and remembered someone made a gif of jumping in there so i wanted to try it too. i imagined the game would just put me back on the road, like it does when you crash into something. except it didnt. i got a game over. where was my last save? 2 hours back all the way in hammerhead. yippee.

Scariest video game you’ve played?

i never play horror games, cuz for me games are supposed to be relaxing experiences. no hate towards horror games of course, they just stress me out. the only time ive played horror is when friday the 13th was for free on ps+, and my friends really wanted to play it. (theyre kinda addicted to it now. huh) they had already gotten over the initial fear of having jason chase you, but i was still terrified. i can play the game without getting scared now tho. the horror sound effects just rly freaked me out at first jhsdkghsd

Most memorable gaming moment?

playing breath of the wild for the first time, or beating it for the first time. both experiences were filled to the brim with excitement and nostalgia. seeing botw as a blank slate, a world for you to explore, having no idea where you’re going… that was pretty incredible. now i know every nook and cranny of the map, so i wish i could play it for the first time again. i was so incredibly immersed. beating it was insane. i cried for 30 minutes and the end wasnt even sad, i was just so amazed at the fact that i was really here, playing breath of the wild, it was really real. the fucking main theme in the background (which i cannot for the life of me listen to without crying) didnt help with my emotions sgkdjh

Video game character you wish you could meet in real life?

…………..its prompto again. maybe 2017 me …. was .. kind of a kinnie

PC, Xbox, Playstation, or Nintendo?

i dont care about console wars at all, but i think hardware-wise, pc is the best, because if you have a good pc you can basically do anything. i however do not, so i just play on consoles. ive never particularly liked xbox, so i only play ps4 and nintendo. not the switch though. its kinda petty, but my best friend and i really dont like the switch djghks

Gaming company you’re most loyal to?

none. i used to call myself a nintendo nerd (oh my god…. i m. gonna die) in like 2015 but since the switch came out and since i got a ps4 they kinda lost me. i still like their game series of course, but as a company i don’t care for them. the only reason i see square enix as one of ‘’my’’ gaming companies is because ffxv took up like 70% of my gaming experience, but besides final fantasy i don’t really love them too much either.

If you could only play one video game for the rest of your life, which would you choose?

atm i’m really into ffxiv because theres just so much to do, but that’s just a new, possibly temporary interest. if i had to choose, i’d say botw. maybe i’d say ffxv, but i feel like running around doing nothing in that game isnt very fun, because the world is sorta empty after completing every quest and getting to level 120. in botw, just fucking around on your horse is still really relaxing and nice. 

Do you use strategy guides?

yup. in certain games i try to avoid them but i usually end up stuck or in need of advice. i couldn’t have gotten so many p5 trophies if not for the internet lol

How often do you use cheats?

never, simply because the games i play often do not have cheats. unless im playing the sims and are in need of a motherlode, i dont use them.

Competitive or single player?

single player. im bad at video games and like to do stuff at my own pace. online multiplayer can be fun every now and then in games like mario kart 8 or splatoon, and i also like teamwork stuff like ffxiv or comrades. but ultimately, i prefer playing on my own.

Video game character you want to/have cosplayed?

have never cosplayed, dont have plans to either, but it would be fun to cosplay link. omg. i just remembered i have that fucking chocomoogle shirt… sorry link im gonna slap on some sasuke hair, black jeans and ugly sneakers 

Ever go to a video game convention?

i have not, i have however gone to three (3) video game concerts which is basically the same thing. 

Hardest boss fight you’ve been in?

the hardest bosses for me are usually the ones with a gimmick. you have to use a certain item or tactic to beat them or something. other hard fights for me are when you fight someone with a similar skill set. (in ffxv, this happens twice, once with the iggy-noct sparring match and once against ardyn. somehow, the final boss was easier than getting the prince to eat vegetables.) i don’t know an actual example of THE hardest boss fight ive been in though. at the time, the first bowser battle in mario galaxy was the hardest thing in the universe and i got stuck for like a month. currently, i’m having trouble with the riku-ansem fight in kh1. 

Video game you wish you could burn from your memory?

the zelda cdi games? no, i dont really know. i dont hate a game so much that i’d want to forget about it altogether, but i dont exactly love ocarina of time that much. it hasnt aged well and playing it on the gamecube for the first time in 2015 wasnt a good idea. im sure it was revolutionary at the time, but i cant handle the outdated controls gsdgksjs 

Favorite gaming series?

see, i love ffxv itself more than the entirety of the zelda series, but i dont love ff as a SERIES more than the zelda games. so if were talking series, zelda for sure. i fucking love those games and they mean a lot to me. 

Do you skip tutorials, or find them useful?

i often skip them because i cant pay attention, but then find that i need them anyway. so i usually do skim through them. 

Best online gaming experience?

one really good one happened a few days ago in ffxiv, some guy and i exchanged emotes for like 30 minutes and it ended with us becoming friends on psn :’) ppl dont usually emote back at me in that game so this was really wholesome and nice gjshksdj 

Worst online gaming experience?

i dont really have a worst? theyre more annoying. think try harders in gta online killing you 15 times in a row because they want to show you how good they are or something. magically, online gaming hasnt been too hard on me (mainly because i dont game online that much)

Why do you game?

it brings me joy. it’s a fun way of relaxing, while being stimulated at the same time. games have meant a great deal to me the past 6 years and i wouldnt want to lose them for the world.

[projectnero]

PSYCHOLOGICAL PROFILE: THE SHEPHERD

Ah, Mr. Amos. The Starwatcher. The Shepherd. The Survivor. There are many names that my massive friend has taken over the years, but the only one he seems to consciously retain is “Amos”. Any attempts at a first or even middle name have been met with failure, and it has been confirmed that Canadian Mountain Giants do not even adhere to a typical giant nomenclature or tribal structure; that is to say, Amos is not his clan’s name, and Mr. Amos’s refusal or inability to divulge any more information than he has already given us makes finding records of him or his tribe next to impossible, unless one of you schleps feels like hiking through the Canadian wilderness. I’ll leave the moose fighting to the RCMP, thank you very much.

I am told by Mr. Amos that remark could be construed as offensive and inaccurate to the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Yet, if they do not FIGHT the moose, how do they mount it?

I am being told now that they do not ride moose.

My apologies. It seems that even they have enough sense not to pick a fight with those massive death machines.

One of these days I must have a word with Epimetheus.

Regardless of the hellish landscape my massive friend is from, he IS a dear friend of mine, and the only one amongst our company who surpasses me in age. His wisdom shows, though his age does not. He is pleasant company, if a bit quiet and reserved at times. I sometimes worry he only interacts with me out of fear of angering my patron god Apollo again -- we shall get to that part soon.

Anyhow, I suppose we should get this underway. Once again the lovely Doctor [REDACTED] has deemed herself fit to evaluate Mr. Amos’s mental state. Even though nobody asked, I’m starting to think that these psychological evaluations are just excuses to try and assign labels to that which is inherently unique. Classifying that which cannot be classified. Which of you scientists has lived for over 2000 years? Nobody? That’s what I thought.

NAME: Amos

ALIASES: Mr. Amos, Goliath, The Shepherd, The Slaughterer, The Survivor

AGE: Approximately 4,500 years old, by his own estimation

HEIGHT: 20 Meters (non-suppressed), 3 Meters (suppressed)

Note: Mr. Amos requested we use the metric system because, and I quote, “America needs to get with the times” and “Citizens of other countries might read this”. Mr. Amos is wrong on both accounts, but nonetheless I have accommodated his ridiculous request, if only because I remember what it was like to not be beholden to America’s rules. For any of you Americans scrolling through this (I’m assuming that would be all of you), his respective heights are 65 feet when not wearing his suppression amulet and 9 feet when wearing the suppression amulet. Approximately. I promise you I tried every method under the sun to get the man under 9 feet but it is impossible.

WEIGHT: 9071 Kilograms/20,000 pounds (non-suppressed), 1,360 Kilograms/3,000 pounds (suppressed)

Again, I tried every method under the sun to make this giant hunk of muscle be able to walk around without leaving craters everywhere, and 3,000 pounds seems to be the best I can get. Gods watch over you if you get in-between this man and his protein.

SPECIES: Giant/Goliath (SUBSPECIES: Canadian Mountain Giant)

NOTABLE ABILITIES:

Gods above, what CAN’T he do?

Apologies, but one cannot help but be in awe of the giant known as Amos.

For starters, with the assistance of an amulet I made specifically for him (you know, because I’m a savant), Mr. Amos can solve the problem of not being small enough for human interaction by shrinking considerably, reducing his overall mass. Your human law of conservation says this is impossible, but Apollo and Thoth spit in the face of your Einstein.

Even while in his shrunken form, Mr. Amos is proportionately strong for a man of his size. Further testing over the years has shown Mr. Amos actually retains his strength of his non-suppressed form at 100% efficiency, and his strength is actually so great that we as weaklings are incapable of differentiating between his different levels.

On a side note, have I mentioned how beautiful this man is?

No, really. This is INCREDIBLY important. When you think of a giant, a certain image comes to mind, right? Some gnarled, ugly, unwashed heap of muscles and meat who doesn’t even know what a loincloth is.

Unfortunately for my poor little heart, Mr. Amos’s species seems to have properties similar to only one other known creature: the fucking succubus. Which is just fantastic, because one of my comrades is a succubus.

This means that Mr. Amos, as well as Mr. di Carina, constantly make subtle changes to their appearance with every passing second to appear more and more beautiful, and constantly release pheromones designed to make sentient creatures of ANY gender attracted to them. This means that, somehow, if Mr. di Carina is ever rendered out of action, the fucking GIANT is our next option for seducing someone. Terrific.

A notable distinction is that succubi surpass expectations of gender; for instance, Mr. di Carina is constantly adjusting to standards of beauty, appearing male to some, and female to others, and retaining an all around feminine appearance in spite of it all. However in all known instances, Mr. Amos has only ever appeared to fit the observers ideal of an attractive male.

I feel guilty for objectifying Mr. Amos, despite how many times he has assured me it is perfectly fine. Gods grant me the strength to continue.

Mr. Amos is capable of traversing massive bodies of water and land in little to no time. The strain on his body appears to be nonexistent, though with his appetite it would be unable to tell if his body is expending more energy than is the norm.

As befitting a giant, Mr. Amos has a ridiculously high pain threshold. Many have compared the man to the fictional character “The Juggernaut”, and indeed it would be a comprehensive comparison if not for Mr. Amos’s weaknesses.

NOTABLE WEAKNESSES:

As mentioned before, Mr. Amos has been compared to the fictional Juggernaut of Marvel series fame. However, if the Juggernaut is an unstoppable force like a freight train, then Mr. Amos is more of a... unstoppable Sherman. He has traded Mr. Juggernaut’s weakness to psychic powers and a binding contract to a deity for moving about as fast as a turtle.

I should clarify. Mr. Amos is not slow by any means, but the mere power in his steps and his dense body means that gravity is constantly weighing down on him, and were he to pick up speed, the already massive craters he calls footsteps would eventually dig through to the Earth’s core and he would all die. Mr. Amos moves deliberately and once he reaches his target, they will be decimated. However, this makes hit and run tactics very disadvantageous, and instead makes Mr. Amos a useful front line combatant and siege unit; I wish that we had been able to make use of Mr. Amos’s abilities when fighting in the Somme.

As mentioned before, as the biggest member of Project: Nero, Mr. Amos requires a massive amount of sustenance. I have seen 90 nobles of the most wasteful houses go through less food in a week-long feast than Mr. Amos does. Apparently this insatiable appetite does not disturb the ration officers; I saw one of them reading a book by some Welsh author about giants and such and the ‘why’ became clear.

Due to his inability to be stopped combined with his high maintenance, we are currently only really able to bring Mr. Amos’s giant form out as an ultimate trump card... and because the chaos caused would not be able to hide our existence to the world anymore. The government only authorizes the transformation if they don’t want any survivors or witnesses.

Subsequently, this treatment of Mr. Amos as an emergency-only monster, deemed to chaotic compared to the likes of even Mr. Takahashi have lead to some... harsh treatment of Mr. Amos by the human outliers of the science team. It has not been good for Mr. Amos’s self-esteem and were it not for the fact that I have no real authority and we must meet a human quota, I would order these hateful beasts to be executed painfully and without mercy.

As of recently, Mr. Amos’s age has finally caught up with him, at least mentally, and the anguish of his perfect memory and knowledge of the past has caused him to become closed-off, lowering team morale.

Make no mistake. I may be the de facto leader of this little ragtag group of freaks, but Mr. Amos is the heart.

PSYCHOLOGICAL DIAGNOSES AND PERSONALITY TRAITS:

Mr. Amos has a severe case of survivor’s guilt, as well as imposter syndrome, though his feelings of fraudulence appear to be completely unfounded as the man has been nothing but forthcoming.

As of Mr. Amos’s deployment to Vietnam and his subsequent return home, routine psychological evaluations seemed to indicate development of post-traumatic stress disorder and late-onset dissasociative identity disorder, if there truly is such a thing as late-onset DID. It is more likely that the giant has been battling with this disorder his entire life, and the harsh conditions and psychological trauma suffered while in Vietnam simply made him unable to mask his suffering anymore. I cannot imagine what it must be like to suffer for over 4,000 years in silence. The man has been suffering from survivor’s guilt for over 2,000 years as well, indicating that whatever happened to his tribe, it happened long before Europeans ever made contact with the Americas.

Mr. Amos seems to have an intense fear of death, as if the concept never occurred to him before.

Behind a deeply troubled man lies a heart almost as massive as he is. No, not literally. That would be biologically impossible. As Dr. Fero previously stated, Mr. Amos is certainly the most beloved member of his team... by his fellow squadmates, at least. I have nothing against Mr. Amos, do not get me wrong. However, the also aforementioned treatment of Mr. Amos by my fellow humans does not make me eager to approach him and inevitably cause more pain.

Mr. Amos is a deeply spiritual man, and seems to be in tune with nature. He is all-loving, and this attitude seems to endear him to everyone, especially the mostly prickly Agent Shrub. Yes, that was a pun, and no, I will not tell you why. I suppose you’ll find out once we get to Agent Shrub’s profile.

Even despite his fear of humans, Mr. Amos has made efforts to understand us - something that I cannot say my colleagues have done. Mr. Amos is a skilled baker and farmhand, and his skill levels equal those of one with PhDs in horticulturalism, herbalism, agriculturalism, animal behavior, science, and even culinary arts. I cannot describe the cakes he makes, for they are filled with something that we humans cannot even grasp. When we say something is made with “love”, I’m not sure we even know what “love” is. When I first tasted some of Mr. Amos’s pastries, I cried. Everyone always does. It tastes divine. It reminds me of... well, I shouldn’t get into details of my own life.

Mr. Amos has shown signs of a crippling loneliness and every time I look at him I want to help. I know I cannot, but when I catch glimpses of his eyes I see a man in need of love.

Note: The rest of the lines have been scribbled out, crossed out, drowned in white-out, and are evidently too embarrassing for Doctor [REDACTED] to repeat.

BACKGROUND:

Hello, all. I will try to keep this short.

My name is incomprehensible in the human tongue, and so I go by Amos. I once had a first and middle name, but the shame of losing my tribe has caused me to discard them.

I couldn’t protect them, and I cannot protect the ones I care about. I will not lie to you and pretend that I read Carter or Yvette’s analyses of me. I will instead tell you the plain, hard facts of my life.

I was born to a loving mother named Viktoria, and a just-as-loving father named Isaac. For a while, life was happy. Giants of my type generally live longer than humans can comprehend; death by old age would not happen until thousands of civilizations would rise and fall. I did not have to worry about mortality. Even when I died, I knew the Gods would reincarnate me as something infinitely more beautiful, such as a gust of wind, or a bird, or a flower. Such is life.

Our clan was exempt from most of the horrors that other giants faced; there was no such thing as war for us. There was no shortage of supplies, no shortage of responsibilities or things to do. We were shepherds. Farmers, bakers, herbalists, apothecaries, we were the providers, the caretakers of this world. Epimetheus’s favored tribe, we carried on long after he and Prometheus were punished for their hubris.

Our clan cared for all the sacred, exotic animals of the different pantheons, but chief amongst them were the Greeks. Athena’s owls, Poseidon’s stallions, Dionysus’s leopards... the most important were Apollo’s sacred cattle. For a while we were happy. Good at our jobs.

And perhaps if that peace had lasted, you would not be hearing from me.

When humans first came to the continent, we welcomed them with open arms. They were kind and kept to themselves; they held much of the same views about land as we did. Unfortunately, humans carry so many viral diseases that they even poison each other accidentally. It was no surprise, then, that left and right giants started to come down with what was only called “the pestilence”. With fewer farmers to tend to the vast fields, to take care of the animals, our crops and livestock dwindled. Panic and mass hysteria set in. Some giants left to try to feast on the very humans that had brought this plague -- but that in and of itself is against the nature of giants. Hatred is not in our veins. We do not resent mankind for bringing sickness. It is simply the will of the Gods.

And so those who feasted on human flesh were stripped of their clan names and their rights, marked as monsters.

But the pestilence and famine continued, and finally death came to us. In Christian mythos, there is a fourth horseman, and if you know who he is, then you should be able to predict what came next.

War. Infighting broke out amongst us. I was hardly a child; 2000 years old. My parents, who should have lived for tens of thousands of years more, were cut down in the blink of an eye. So enraged and desperate where we, so powerful was the cursed horseman’s influence, that we made weapons that should not have been able to kill us, and yet did -- through the power of hatred or through ingenuity, I do not know. What I do remember was seeing my former clansmen feasting on the remains of my parents. Once again they had turned to the unthinkable, the horrible, in order to survive this horrible time.

When the war was over, thankfully the winning side were not the cannibals. The cannibals were not only marked as monsters, but it was decided that they should be executed as well. So disgusting and long-lasting were War’s repugnant effects that once we learned how to kill each other, we still used it. They were killed. It was the will of the Gods.

With our quelled numbers, it was theorized that surely we should be able to survive on the food now, yes? No.

Giants still starved. Babies passed due to the pestilence. And we still killed one another.

Eventually my more weak-willed kin gave up hope. Truly there WAS no way of the Gods. They had abandoned us.

And once the Gods abandoned us, why should we keep ourselves from taking what was no longer sacred, but instead sustenance?

I watched in horror and fear as the four horsemen left before my very eyes. With each bloodied hand that dug into a bull or cow, I could feel the gentle warmth of the sun turn to a blistering fire.

Before my very eyes, the four horsemen were replaced by one angry God.

Apollo vaporized my tribe. I was the only one not to eat the cattle. No, I had instead prayed every day to Apollo as I lovingly tended to his remaining cows.

And for this, he spared me.

The rest is all relative.

Learn from my mistakes. Please.

Do not lose faith.