#to give me courage but its just post after post about more bad news. i saw a photo of a group of soldiers smiling and laughing

[princessmyriad]

.

[fatuismooches]

Dw hahahaha I'm still alive just dying over ( why did I chose to study a PHD 😭 ) But im on a break from school so except so a lot more brainrot from me lmao, also sorry if this is jumbly kinda just put my words out there hahaha

I know we always talk about fragile reader during the illness but what about after? Fragile reader was plauged with this illness for hundreds of years so they deffinently adapted. Like typically when walking then would shuffle their feet a lot cause it took less energy so sometime they shuffle their feet and don't even realize. They didnt have the ability to do tasks such a pouring liquids into cups so whenever they're about to pour themselves a glass of water then to do collect themselves because what if their illness comes back? What if there dreaming and they'll suddenly drop everything. All of Zandik's work is reverted. So often times segments will just find reader staring intensely at a simple task. And of course they'll go comfort reader. Whilst they wish they could do it they know how much reader wants their autonomy back after such a restrictive few centuries.

But let not ignore the segments and Prime cause they've picked up a few habits also. They've gotten used to treating reader as fragile as glass so whenever they fall or trip post illness they freak out. It would require some comfort from reader to bring them back to earth and remember that reader is no longer ill. But you KNOW that they're pulling out every healing treatment they've got. They're all evil and sadistic doctors but for you they'll be good. <4

But regarding Zandik himself... Well he was so excited to finally have cured his lover that he completely forgot about the effects you'd suffer after. So when a few segments report of you not being completely free of your curse he's immediately trying to figure out how he can help you. He decides that the best thing to do is to be there for you. It typically is unusual to see the Doctor away from his work but now it's the norm for Il Doctors to be with his lover.

- Jellofish Anon

After being sick for so long, one would think you'd be ecstatic to finally be cured, to be free of the illness that plagued your body and life so much. And well, they were right, but the happiness still came with its anxieties. Change was never an easy thing, even when it was the good type. After dealing with this for so many years, you were bound to still be nervous about doing certain things. To not have the confidence in yourself to carry out the task. You worry that you'll mess up or fail and waste your time trying to do so and just end up making more of a problem for yourself and others. Even though you know that's illogical now, it's hard to get out of a mindset you've been stuck with for so long. Of course, your inner conflict doesn't go unnoticed by your lovers, and each segment would provide their own kind of comfort based on who they are, whether gruffly or soothingly, to give you the courage to take back your life.

You can't exactly blame Dottore and the segments for being overbearing, after all, they've witnessed your weak state for numerous centuries, and they've seen you hit your lowest many times too. They can't help but worry about their darling too. It's endearing at first but you have to hold them and help them realize that was the past you, the new you is someone different thanks to them. You can be strong and safe and independent without them now, even if it sort of makes them crazy knowing the situations you put yourself in now. Still, they observe you very much even when you least expect it.

Of course, the cure is not without its drawbacks - you still have to deal with the lingering effects of your illness sometimes. Which definitely aren't as bad as before, but they still serve to remind you of your old life. But you know that regardless of what the future may bring, you'll always have Dottore by your side to ease whatever pains you have.

(Dottore post-illness would be such a cutie. It's such a rewarding feeling, to see the one he loves no longer burdened and free to pursue what they want just like he does. He would sit and listen to all the stories you have for him each day, all the exciting things you can do now, the days of pain in the past. Of course, the segments would be extremely excited to finally have a worthy assistant - you - but there's only one of you after all. Unfortunately, they have to share, and bear the painful curse of having you to themselves once nearly every two weeks.)

(I've been planning to make this a full fic for like a year...)

[watchingblsnowandforever]

Hello!!!

Welcome back to my crack posts! =D

We Are ep 9 is as hilarious as it's frustrating, and I will continue to the whys below with a healthy dose of crack. <3

Warning: long post 😊😅

Ohoho, our little boy is jealous and... its not even 5 minutes in (2 minutes since the actual start). Is that a new record?

Kluen: can I just sleep beside you- 😊

Phum: No. 🙂

Poor Toey getting roped into this too 😭

(something something, Chain helping Toey get Q jealous while Phum uses Toey as a buffer for the cause of his jealousy)

Our favourite old married couple hehe (who aren't actually dating yet-)

My poor Phum 😭

Okay, as much as I don't like Kluen, I have to give it to him for being so straightforward, going as far as telling Phum that he likes Peem when he realizes that Phum might does like him too.

Also the t-shirt: We Are Volunteer.

Yes! Call him out!

We really need more call out-ers in BL.

I laughed so hard my cat looked at me weird 😭😂

Children really are the best eyy

Phum looks so betrayed oh gods 😭

The 'I know what you're doing but I'll still play along cause I like you too, ai'kwai' look. Ah, a classic from thai bl.

This reminds me of when Tinn says "How can I be your friend? I like you!" when Gun finds him after he ran away from the MV shoot.

(And Gun replies, "You think I can?")

On one hand we have Phum who bribes children with chocolates (that he just happens to have in his pocket) to lure away his crush from his rival.

On the other we have Q who simply up and runs away when his friend faux-swipes his crush's sweat simply to make him jealous.

*looks between them and shakes head* these boys are absolutely hopeless

Our favourite married couple part 2 (who are actually dating)

continued:

Pun and Mick just here playing around 😭👍🏼

Peem was right, if they were the only ones in charge of cooking, no one would get any food T~T

But... how exactly did "cut into round shapes" get converted to "cut into round glasses" to "rectangles"? 😶

Fang is so done with these idiots 😭👍🏼

In this moment, I kid you not, my brain played the "what did he sayyy" meme 😶

Phum: *bombastic side eye of death*

Yes, please. We've been waiting for this for 8 and a half episodes.

Yes, and you are the nosiest peep, now continue.

Ah, so Fang is actually the violent sibling, and him and Phum (and Tan, apparently) got into frequent fights, it seems like.

Got caught red handed 😭

Tan is so dead

Wait... so Tan and Fang had a beginning much like Phum and Peem? 👀

Rivals to lovers for both brothers it is, then.

And I feel so bad for Phum, poor guy has been a third wheel since his high school days 😭

...somehow, I think Chain and Pun will put even TanFang to shame when they actually start dating 😶

'Course you have. You just played with water with your besties the other day

And with friends like yours, Peem? It's unlikely you'll go one day without playing around with something or the other

Beer doing God's work here 😭🙏🏼

I love how Beer is both perceptive and observant of his friends, and knows just what to say to get them moving.

He wants the best for Phum and even tells him how he's happy that Peem came into his life, and Phum is a lot more lively these days. (MSP flashbacks again anyone? No? Just me?)

He might not be as playful or enthusiastic as Peem's friends, but he knows what his friends need and he'll try his hardest to make sure they have it. He's just such a good friend.

Phum telling him about the Deal™ also shows us just how much he trusts Beer.

Love him <3

Sweetie, I understand you need some space, but you don't talk to your future boyfriend possible crush like that 😭

Nothing to see here, just a goodnight kiss.

Jokes aside, I like that Peem tries to figure out what's wrong, but he doesn't push too hard. And even tries to provide some comfort to Phum.

And in these moments with just them, Phum has bursts of courage to show his affection, and show Peem how much he means to him, instead of just telling him.

I don't think this is him being emotionally constipated (he is, no doubt about it, but strangely not as much when it comes to Peem), but more of him being unsure of where he stands with Peem (as I mentioned in last week's post).

Are they just friends because their friend groups merged? Acquaintances forced to be close due to circumstances? Just creditor and debtor? Is the deal all that's holding them together?

Well, Phum needs to find the answers. (Preferably and possibly within the next episode)

*sigh* they're gonna kill me with fluff (and I'm gonna die happy)

This is my favourite scene of this ep. Just crushes cuddling each other with sleep, the rest of the evil world (Kluen) forgotten for the moment.

Ah. I love cuddles even more than kisses, not gonna lie

Also, ep 10 seems promising!

Anyways, that's all for now, see you next week! And if you made it this far, thank you so much for reading! 😊

Here, have a bubble tea and a cookie 🧋🍪

[r4vensheaven]

Loser!Ellie x Vampire!Reader

Authors note: hii guys, this is my first time posting on tumblr so please go easy on me lmaoo, also English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes, please don’t hesitate to call me out im always open to criticism!! (just don’t be mean about it lol)

>loser!Ellie who’s life is just so mundane and boring until she finds out the new girl in her class, who she has a little crush on , is a vampire but instead of being scared,she falls even more for the girl and offers to be her personal blood buffet.

>loser!Ellie that spends entire nights researching about vampires so she can know more about you but eventually develops into a hyperfixation .

>loser!Ellie that can’t help but whimper every time your fangs pierce her skin, it hurts but it feels so good at the same time (she can’t help but get a little turned on).

>loser! Ellie who would lay her head on your lap demanding that you play with her hair while she babbles about space and dinosaurs, stumbling on her words,all dizzy after you drank from her.

>loser!Ellie who would blush so hard when you tell her how delicious her blood is.

>loser!Ellie whose favorite book is now “Carmilla” (iykyk).

>loser!Ellie who gets addicted to your bites to the point she makes herself bleed around you in order to tempt you to bite her again.

>Loser!Ellie that could hear your stories of many year ago for hours. She’s so fascinated by all the lives you’ve lived (and she’s really grateful she can be part of one of your many stories).

>loser!Ellie who thinks you are the stylish person on earth.

>loser!Ellie who looks up at you with the prettiest green doe eyes you have ever seen after feeding on her.

>loser!Ellie who finally finds courage to kiss you, your mouth still stained with her blood, but she doesn’t care( she thinks it’s hot), a soft loving kiss that eventually gets more heated and aggressive, your fangs poking her lips,your blood red lipstick living kiss marks all over her face, Ellie is having the time of her life.

>loser!Ellie who’s addicted to your natural seductive vampire scent, always with her head somewhere on your neck, collarbone or chest.

>loser!Ellie that finds you the hottest when you just finished drinking from her, your mouth is covered in her blood, your chest rising from your heaving breathing, your eyes rolling back from how good she tastes…

>loser!Ellie that gets so shy and flustered because of the amount of expensive gifts you give her. She likes this new guitar? It’s hers. She needs more art supplies? You buy her the best ones. A telescope so she can see the stars and planets? Already in her room. When you have been alive for so long it’s not weird to have an insane amount of money to spend on your sweet girlfriend <3

>loser!Ellie who feels bad for not being able to buy you a bunch of stuff back,she wants to spoil you too :’)

>loser!Ellie who’s eyes water and is left speechless when you tell her that she is the greatest gift you could have.

>loser!Ellie that paints and draws you over and over again because you’re her muse. She also makes paintings to decorate your big mansion, every room has at least something made by her.

>loser!Ellie always losing card games against you, who after so many years became a master in them, but Ellie still has hope that she’ll win against you someday( when she does its because you let her win).

>loser!Ellie who’s had many sleepless nights thinking (and crying) about how she’s going to get old and die while you stay young forever :’(

>loser!Ellie that begs you to turn her because there’s nothing she wants more than to spend eternity with you.

Thinking of writing a full fic on this, i just need the time lmao

[desafinado]

Damnn i like s/o wife hcs so much can you do the same to zhongli and diluc👉🏻👈🏻 also hope you have nice day

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 happily ever afters (?)

°｡⋆ zhongli, diluc, kazuha x reader (separately)

°｡⋆ suggestive like literally the word, sickening fluff once again

note: ofc, and thank you, hope your days are well too. added kazuha bc while i’m here, might as well… i'm glad y'all like the first one, and if there’s anyone else you’d like to see, don’t hesitate to leave an ask!! also... depending on whether i got the courage to post it alr, a 50 followers celebration is coming up, (its here!!) so feel free to join in ^^

(alhaitham, ayato) | (zhongli, diluc, kazuha)

zhongli ♡

all his years on teyvat, and you’d think he’d get used to all of the beauty it has to offer… but you still catch him off guard when you boop his nose first thing in the morning.

though he couldn’t have asked for a better way to wake up, it gives him the perfect excuse to shower you with kisses.

i feel like he’d easily slip into the so called “married life” as well as being the perfect husband (or as i like to say, malewife)

he cooks, he cleans, he makes you feel all warm inside…

he even visits during work, or vice-versa. you both have lunch with whatever he had initially packed just for you (you insist for him to join you).

on the less busy days, you both might even go for a walk by liyue harbor, taking in the stunning view of the ocean amidst the work on the docks

another spot you both would frequent is the path to the golden house, which might be a harder trek, but the views of the mountains as well as the history scattered around is very much worth it.

early on in your relationship, he already took note of your affection for certain dishes, so now he knows which ones to cook when you come home feeling celebratory, fatigued, frustrated, or just sad.

he lulls you to sleep (cuddled together ofc) with some old liyue tales and folklore, forehead kisses every now and then.

expect a lot of road trips along liyue or even to other nations. he wants to experience teyvat, now that he isn’t very preoccupied being an archon, and he wants to experience it with you.

even if it's just for a weekend, he makes sure that it’s something you’ll both treasure.

while on these trips, your favorite pastime is just taking candid pictures of him; they either turn out absolutely stunning and jaw dropping…or just plain goofy

“hehehe…” “what are you giggling about, my love?… oh. wonderful picture nonetheless ,my darling, though i apologize you caught me at a bad moment.”

you sighing at him in content, as he recounts his own experiences about the location you’re both visiting.

since, he’s always recounting to you his experiences in the past, you make it a point to introduce to all the newer advances in the world… whether it be technology or gastronomical breakthroughs

“so you’re saying… they put a whole dango in this milk? and people drink it? that doesn’t sound very…” “healthy? yup, but the raiden shogun herself approves of it so…”

though it might not suit his tastes or its emergence into culture, he’s happy trying whatever you have to offer him.

you’ll also tell him the history and cultures from your own homeland! he’s gets very excited about it, because he’s always up for learning something new, especially when it’s something near and dear to you.

he just wants to spend as much time as he can with you; he of all people knows how short human life can be. he’s willing to spend it making sure you’ve lived a good one.

he’s been more silent than usual; you’ve been talking for a good 20 minutes now. he’d usually ask you questions or share his own insights from your sharing, but he’s been totally silent, only giving nods of affirmation. you pause your ramblings for a moment to check on him.

“dear? you haven’t spoken this entire time, i have to admit it is quite strange.”

he exhales softly, shaking his head.

“does it make you uneasy? i apologize, i was just… captivated by you.”

a blush spreads from your cheek to your entire face; he never did fail at making you feel like a middle-schooler with a crush. you hit his chest playfully, trying to play off your flustered state. he just giggles, admiring you under the golden sunset.

“zhongli!”

“it is only the truth, my love. it seems that everyday my love for you only grows stronger.”

diluc ♡

you’ve never seen lovesick, until you see diluc come home everyday to collapse in your arms.

he’ll often rant about rowdy patrons at the tavern or pompous businessman he had to meet that day, you just try to get him to a better place… or at least you try to.

“he annoyed me to hell, darling. he acted like he owned the place…” “but you do, dear. next time, you should just kick him out. don’t they know they’re keeping you from me?”

his embarrassed state is something he only lets you see… and well, cause. it just baffles him that you'd go to such lengths or say such things to demonstrate your love for him.

when you both have a day off, you both spend it around the estate, enjoying each other’s presence.

reading books in the library, baking a batch of cookies, picking grapes or braiding his hair. he absolutely craves these moments of normalcy, and you’re happy spending it with him.

braiding his hair is especially fun, because it gives you the opportunity to run a hand through his soft locks. you also steal a kiss or two on his neck.

if you two have a day or night out on the town, you can be sure that he might hold your hand a bit tighter or rest an arm around your shoulder the entire time.

it’s not that he’s necessarily jealous, but it's a small reminder for him that whatever he can face, he can face it with you.

so if a certain knight comes along, teasing him, he doesn’t feel at all embarrassed, because his love for you is nothing to be ashamed of.

but back to coming home, it's especially satisfying after spending a day with you. it’s a good kind of tired, the tiredness you’d feel from an overload of serotonin.

if he decides to go on some darknight hero business, you’ll be there to see him off and make sure he’s ready for whatever he might come across.

he’s even discovered a snack bar or two in his coat pocket.

bloody, bruised, or unscathed, you’ll be there to welcome him home. he’s told you to go on and sleep without him, but you’ve refused every time.

the first time he found you, he felt the guilt go straight to his head. you assured him you were fine though, and you’d only feel sorry if he wasn’t the last thing you saw before you slept.

if time and fatigue truly forbids it, you’re sure to find him in morning light, his arms around you.

he never wants you to worry over him… more than you already do.

to him, you’re the only thing worth coming home for, the only reason he’d want to come home in one piece. between all the loud crowds causing him a headache or bloody battles he’s fought, he imagines you waiting for him at the place he knows as home.

“oh my god.”

his voice is deep and almost shaky, seeing you reading a book and sitting at the edge of your shared bed. the sun was set to rise in an hour or so, but here you were, waiting for his arrival. he dropped whatever he was holding, not caring for the loud thump it made; he immediately brought his arms around you, the both of you softly falling to the bed.

“d-did you wait this long for me? you didn’t have to… i’m so-”

“diluc.”

you bring a palm to his cheek, guiding his gaze towards you. your eyes did look sleepy, but a lazy yet bright smile ran across your face.

“it doesn’t matter, my dear. i’m just happy you’re home, here, with me. that’s all that ever matters.”

kazuha ♡

you both compromised on a long distance relationship for the majority of your relationship, but when marriage came up, you knew you couldn’t keep it that way.

rather than him having to come visit you every few months, he gradually stayed longer and longer, until he truly did live in your own home… or well, both your home.

that didn’t stop his wandering ways though, in fact, he had a newfound goal to show you everything he had seen.

expect him to be taking up all your vacation days, planning a thorough and perfectly personalized itinerary.

if time allows it, you’ll even travel for a month or so, just wandering around, before coming back home.

when kazuha came back home, you’d always be there and make him feel at him. he was literally coming back from a long-winded journey after all.

he wanted to do the same for you, so he’d push through his fatigue to take care of you once you both return. he’d run you a bath and make some comfort food to help you relax.

sleeping in until tomorrow afternoon, your bodies lazily entangled with one another. if you even try to get up, he’s quick to pull you back down, encouraging you to rest.

“i’m not that tired anymore…” “hmm, well i still am, very much.” “okay, then let-” “i need you here though, else i’ll never get up.”

you know he’s exaggerating and simply being clingy, but maybe you should indulge him, as well as yourself.

when it’s back to business, you can expect him to be taking care of the house. he’s already decorated it in trophies and memories he’s brought back from his own adventures, but he focuses on showcasing the memories you and him have had.

he’ll also be passing time, writing poems about his life with you, or just you. you are his muse, after all.

the moment you come home, you can expect him to be clinging on to you, as if letting you go would mean that he would lose you.

after one particularly long day (you left without giving him kisses :( rip ), he just carried you in his arms to your shared bedroom. he didn’t let you leave until he showed you just how much he missed you (kisses and cuddles or something more suggestive oh my).

or you know, he’ll just tell you with all the poems he’s thought up while you were gone… maybe even through song, if he’s feeling especially heartstruck.

he realizes how you must’ve felt when he went on those months long journeys, so he’s trying to make up for it now.

he realizes how much he’s been missing you too, all those nights he spent alone feeling like something was missing… it was you.

“that was beautiful, ‘zuha.”

your head is snug against his chest, and your voices are pronounced against the night breeze, river splashing and crickets chirping. the tent kazuha pitched gives you the privacy you two very much deserve.

“the poem? the view? or… could you possibly even be talking about me?”

he smirks at his last suggestion, you can only giggle softly. you snuggle deeper against his touch, trying to etch this moment in your head.

“all of it, beloved. everything about you is beautiful. i…”

he only shakes his head, giggling right back at you. he welcomes your closeness, resting his head on your shoulder.

“all i do, all i see, all i am, they are only possible with you. you, my dear, are the most beautiful soul that i am thankful to be graced with.”

requests are open!! please do not reposts on other sites.

[princessmisery666]

Retirement Plan

Summary: After Six rescues Claire, there are no mission details to follow, no designated escape route, and no arranged extraction. However, Donald planned for the day Six would learn there is more to the Sierra Program than dangerous operations and battle scars.

Warnings/Genres/Troupes: angst, drink spiking, canon-type violence, flirting, murder, flashbacks. 

W/C: 8.5k

Characters: Sierra Six, OFC, Claire Fitzroy, Lloyd Hansen, Donald Fitzroy. 

Pairing: none. Platonic friendships. 

A/N: first time writing for this fandom, please be kind. I know this is long but I didn't feel there was no good place to split it. I had to post before I lost the courage and decided I hated the whole thing.

Beta(s): @deanwinchesterswitch

Graphics: made by me on Canva// @slytherkins created the OFC image.

Master Lists: Main // Other Fandoms

2021

The multiple yellow warning triangles that line the road should be redundant after the big, bold, capitalized lettering warning of RADIATION RISK. PRIVATE PROPERTY. DO NOT ENTER. TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT THEN PROSECUTED (if you survive). Yet Six continues to drive. He hopes the warnings are an attempt to keep people out because he has little in the way of choices. It’s either risk radiation poisoning or…well, he doesn’t know what other option they have at the moment.

The alarm sounds, pulling Carmen’s attention from her task of scrubbing the internet of any trace of the man who just trespassed on her land. The screen switches from the split view to track the vehicle as it crosses the property line. Shit. 

Six wonders if Claire got the coordinates wrong. He’s been driving on an uneven dirt road for well over a mile, surrounded by nothing but trees to the right and chest-high grass to the left. He can’t blame the kid, Donald made her memorize coordinates and a random password during a stressful situation. He’d understand if she got confused or misheard him. But Six is not about to wake her to check the intel for the hundredth time.

The car isn’t speeding, so it’s not an emergency, but its occupant still shouldn’t be here. She rushes up the basement stairs, unclipping the safety button on the sheath holding the knife on her hip. The stairs lead directly into the sitting room, and she grabs the gun from under the couch, checking the magazine as she walks toward the front door. Before stepping outside, she plucks the baseball cap off the hook in the entryway. The car is on the horizon, a quarter mile out, and she tucks the gun into the back waistband of her jeans, making sure her oversized shirt covers it.

The sun is quickly descending, and Six doesn’t want to drive this uneven path in the dark. The dirt road finally gives way to gravel, and Six sees the house. A figure steps out onto the porch, watching his arrival. He didn’t see any cameras, but there must be surveillance because how else would they know he was coming? 

Gravel crunches beneath the tire, kicking up a cloud of white dust as the car pulls to a stop a little too close to the porch steps. 

The engine cuts off, and Carmen cautiously waits for the occupier to step out, wondering how he knows about this place. Fitz would have called if there was trouble because no one else knew of her existence here. 

Six looks at the woman through the window. Her long brunette hair fans out from under a navy blue baseball cap, concealing most of the right side of her face. Suspicious in itself but not cause for concern. Yet.

The tall blond man, who she knows only as Six, steps out of the car and eyes her suspiciously before uttering, “Password: Portal to another world.”

Fuck. Her throat tightens, and her chest constricts, feeling heavy with pain. The spoken words mean one thing. But still, she asks, “Fitz is dead?” 

She sucks in a deep breath and waits for his reply. That she had a relationship with Donald is apparent from her reaction. He hates being the bearer of bad news, but he has to deliver it and nods once. 

She knew this day was coming. It was only a matter of time. Fitz got too close to the kid - well, man now - and it wasn’t ever going to end well. She’d told Fitz as much on one of their many - almost daily - phone calls, and he always told her to stop worrying so much. Maybe she was too close to Fitz, too, because she constantly worried about the man. 

A fat lot of good that did. He’s dead. And his protege/son/weapon is staring at her. She lets him stare. Everyone does. It’s human nature. She pushes back her shoulders, slipping off her baseball cap, and shakes her hair off her face as best she can without lifting her hands to aid the process. He’ll see that as a threat. 

Six keeps his eyes on hers for a second, beautiful amber eyes that wouldn’t look out of place on a Hollywood star. His eyes fall to her nose and trace the deep scar, made by a sharp blade, running from the bridge of her nose, curling around her right cheek and up into her bottom lip.

He traces it twice before meeting her eyes again, and she returns the cap to her head. “Got somewhere for the kid?”

“Claire?” she asks, dipping to look into the car's window.

He nods again.

“Through the living room, upstairs, second door on the left.”

Carmen watches him gently rouse the girl, enough to get her to release the seat belt and allow him to scoop her up. Six winces as he stands, but he doesn’t let whatever pain it is stop him from carrying her into the house.

The walk to the stairs is painful. He’s probably popped some stitches by carrying her, but he doesn’t care. He grunts and groans as he climbs each step and pauses to catch his breath at the top. Thankfully, the corridor is short, and the door to the room is slightly ajar, allowing him to kick it open and shuffle in sideways.

“Six,” Claire groggily says as he places her on the bed. “Where’re we?” 

He wants to let her rest some more, so he tells a white lie, “We’re safe,” because he’ll be damned if anything happens to her. He waits for her to settle again, rolling onto her side. To back up his statement, he does a bit of recon.

Carmen hears Six moving around while she waits for the coffee to brew. She can’t blame him for checking out the place. He’s never been here, doesn’t know her, and now Donald is gone. There’s one less person on the planet that he trusts. He’ll fall back on his extensive training and try to use whatever he can to his advantage. 

Six doesn’t care about manners today. He doesn’t know this scarred woman even though she apparently knows Donald, so he searches the house and is not quiet about it either. There are weapons stashed in obvious places, and the hum of computers draws him down the open door at the bottom of the stairs. Eight steps lead to a concrete floor. Cautiously he walks down, and if he weren’t so damn tired, he’d probably have let out an appreciative whistle. 

The place looks like a NASA command center, with four monitors, multiple tower systems, a large-screen TV, and Six’s photo on the middle screen. A program is running at speed, a jumble of white numbers and letters scrolling over a black box, and occasionally, images of the mess in Berlin pop up and then disappear. Why is she looking for him? 

Carmen knows Six will find all of her weapon’s stashes. They aren’t that hard to find, and if he’s bold enough - which he is - he’ll walk down the stairs disguised as a linen closet that leads to the basement and see her computer system. He’ll make his own assumptions as to who she is. 

Apparently, having decided to switch tactics, he sneaks up on her. She hears him just before he reaches for the gun in her waistband. As he pulls it free, she turns to face him. Using his lower body to pin her between him and the edge of the counter, he wraps a hand around her throat, cutting off her air. She hadn’t expected his assumption that she’s an enemy to hurt as much as it does, but he’s had a shitty few days, so she forgives his behavior. Although, she’s not going to go down without defending herself. 

Raising the gun to her temple, his deceptively calm voice demands, “Who are you? Why is my face streaming on your monitors?” 

Carmen doesn’t fight back, though she could if she wanted to. She’s as skilled as he is. One arm is trapped between their bodies, and the other rests on the marble countertop near the coffee pot. While he obviously doesn’t feel it, the small knife she pulled from the sheath as she turned is resting on the inside of his thigh.

When she doesn’t attempt to answer, he forces the heel of his palm into her larynx, compelling her to bend further backward to keep from passing out. She could grab the carafe and drench his face in scalding hot coffee, but it would only escalate the situation. Instead, her solution is to tap the hand wrapped around her throat three times, conceding.

He loosens his grip but doesn’t move. She gasps, sucking in much-needed air, and he allows her three deep breaths before he asks again. 

“I just told that girl she’s safe. Are you gonna make me a liar?! Who are you?” 

“I’m Sierra.” the pressure on her neck lightens further but doesn’t disappear. “Donald gave me strict instructions: if he doesn’t check in every two days, I’m to scrub the internet of any mention of you or anyone matching your description.” she pauses, giving him a second to process, but he’s still as a stone. “The agency has done their part, the news outlets have stopped running the story, but your little escapade in Berlin is still doing the rounds on the internet.”

Six remains in place, gun grinding into her temple, strained muscles fighting against the burn of fatigue, as he debates what to believe. It’s plausible but still doesn't answer his question. 

“Do you work for the agency?”

“No. I work for Fitz. Off the books. Or at least I did.”

The coffee finishes brewing, and their labored breathing is the only sound for a tense moment. “Six,” she says, as softly as she can with his hand so close to being able to crush her windpipe.

He does not react, so she taps the blade resting on the inside of his thigh, dangerously close to his femoral artery, to make him aware of its presence. 

“Let me go,” she demands. 

He’s not ready to trust her or at least be calm enough for a rational conversation, so he keeps her pressed against the countertop.

As best she can, in her most professional voice, she utters the sentence she hopes will make him recognize her. “Oscar One to Sierra Six. Safe to talk.”

“Star,” he murmurs, letting his hand fall away and taking a half step back after putting the gun on the countertop beside her. 

Cautiously eyeing him, she rubs her neck, greedily inhaling the oxygen he deprived her of. “Star?”

He’s not willing to explain and instead apologizes. “Sorry. I always imagined you as a short, rotund woman with glasses on the tip of her nose like a librarian.”

That’s a lie. He had never seen a picture of her, so all he had was imagination, and though librarians often came up, she was never short and rotund in his vision. 

Carmen chuckles, rolling her eyes, “Yet you still flirted with me.”

He did flirt, and not because it gained him perks; fancier hotels, restaurant recommendations, a rush on an evac team when needed, but because it was nice to have someone to talk to who knew the job and, in a way, knew him. He shrugs with the smallest of smirks, denying nothing.

“Disappointed?” She asks, gesturing up and down her body.

His eyes travel the length of her body and back up to her eyes. “No. I’ve always had a thing for librarians.”

She laughs out loud, shying away from his gaze and turning back to pour the coffee. She’s not so sure he’d have flirted had he known what she looked like. “Are you hungry? I can make you a sandwich.”

“Starving,” he says. The danger has passed, and now Six understands why Donald sent them here. Oscar One is a friend. Donald trusted her, and Six does, too. 

The enormity of the realization hits him hard, and suddenly, his whole body aches. “Got somewhere I can freshen up?”

“Yeah, bathroom upstairs. Everything you need is in the closet in the bedroom, third door on the left.”

He leans around her, picks up the fresh mug of coffee, and smiles, but she doesn’t see it. Stirring sugar into her coffee, she uses it as a pretense to keep her face averted, but he senses it’s because he’s on the side with her scar. “Thank you.”

2019

The park had been relatively empty, but it’s growing in popularity as the proverbial lunch bell sounds at the bordering businesses. The benches surrounding the central attraction, a lake containing a large floating fountain, quickly become occupied with people reading newspapers, eating lunch, meeting friends, and scrolling their phones. Ducks, swans, a few geese, and greedy seagulls all vie for the spoils of the humans offering bread and seeds. 

Six leisurely jogs laps around the lake. He’s not working on his cardio, which is good because he keeps having to slow down and dodge around people, but he is working. 

The women, with babies in strollers, track his movement, whispering to one another and giggling whenever he passes and nods a polite greeting. They think he can’t hear their lewd comments and salacious musings, but the AirPods aren’t piping music. They’re providing a connection to his operation specialist. 

At a safe distance from prying ears, he pulls his phone from his pocket. Pretending to press the screen as if making a call, he says, “Sierra Six to Oscar One, safe to talk.”

The voice comes back almost immediately. “Oscar One to Sierra Six confirmed, safe to talk.”

Translation: secure line. No one else, including top brass, is listening. 

He heads toward a tree, making the most of the shade to unnecessarily stretch because he’s barely broken a sweat. He looks up at the blue sky, with no clouds in sight, and knows Oscar One can see him via satellite and the cameras located around the park. Though he has no idea as to her location, she is his eyes and ears. Essentially, she holds his life in her hands. If he needs a quick escape, he relies on her to provide the safest route.

“What’re you doing after this?” 

She sighs dreamily, “There’s a bottle of red cooling in the fridge and a pizza with my name on it somewhere.” 

“Want some company?”

“I’d love some,” she says wistfully, then chuckles it away, “but it might take you a while to get here.”

He sighs at the thought. Wine and pizza sound like a fun night to him, and it’d be nice to put a face to the name Oscar One. He knows that’s not her name, just like Six isn’t his name, though he much prefers Six to the name his father gave him.

He starts up a light jog again, going in the opposite direction around the lake, just to change things up a bit. “Where is here?”

“If I could tell you, I would.” 

She means it, too. It would be nice to have company. She’s been alone for so long she’s acclimatized to the solace, but she was supposed to be a field agent and craves to be where the action is. But she lives vicariously through Six and makes the most of being able to take control of cameras around the globe to see what’s going on in the world.

Six believes her. They’ve established a good relationship over the sixteen years she’s been his Northern Star, as he likes to think of her. She’s helped him out of multiple sticky situations - she’s smart, calm in a crisis, and possesses great communication and observational skills - she’d be excellent in the field. Still, he’s glad she isn’t because he relies on her to be a guiding light to safety when he needs it. 

Fitz speaks highly of her, sometimes too much, and Six believes him to be the reason they are paired together more often than not. It’s rare that he gets an assignment where she is not his partner, and he questions it whenever she isn’t. However, he still finds it inequitable that he has no idea what she looks like, yet she can probably see the mole below his left temple.

“It is unfair, you know.” he swerves around a businessman shouting into his phone. “That you know what I look like and where I am at any given moment.”

“It’s part of the job,” she reminds him, not for the first time. “I promise, one day, we’ll meet and share a pizza.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

Six continues his jog and listens to One tapping keys and humming along to the radio. He contemplates asking her real name, but a part of him likes the mystery of it. The story and images of her he creates in his mind are far more fanciable than the truth. Their stories are morbidly similar.

The lunch crowd dissipates, and Six completes twelve more laps before One pipes up again. 

“Target identified,” One says at the same time Six spots him. “Southwest entrance, heading your way.”

With a light tone, “Bad guy identified,” Six confirms, returning to the tree to do some stretches, a little necessary this time.

The target doesn’t look like a typical bad guy. He’s clean-shaven with slicked-back hair and wearing an immaculately tailored suit and expensive shoes. He looks like a banker. Arguably, he’s probably as much of a crook as any easily identified ‘bad guy’.

“Is he a bad guy?” One wonders ruefully. “He’s just a whistleblower.”

Six isn’t one to get mixed up in feelings or emotions. He’s here to do a job. The assignment is basic: collect a document dropped ‘anonymously’ and then follow the mark. 

One is accustomed to Six’s indifference when the conversation gets deeper or potentially contentious, so she provides her own answer. “It helps me to think of them as bad guys that deserve whatever the agency is going to do to them rather than potential good guys that are in the way of someone's agenda.”

Six understands the logic, but he’s never had much of a problem with it because whatever he’s tasked with is better than the alternative. 

“He’s made the drop,” One informs him. “On the bench a hundred yards…” 

A loud pop echoes around the park, and the smartly dressed man is no longer so well put together. A red dot blooms on his chest, and he falls to his knees. Someone screams, and Six takes a step to go after the file to complete the mission. 

“HOLD!” One yells in his ear. It’s as frantic as he’s ever heard her, and he freezes. “I can’t see the shooter. I don’t have eyes.”

The first echo dies down, but another quickly follows. The already downed whistleblower takes a kill shot to his head. People begin to scatter in every direction except Six. He waits under the tree, hopefully out of sight of the killer, deciding on his next move. 

“Six,” One impassively states. “I need you to be a civilian. Run.” 

“The file.” 

“Forget the file,” she grits. “Do you trust me?” 

“Yes.”

“I need you to run, please,” she begs. “If you ever want to meet me for that pizza and wine, I need you to run.”

His Northern Star has never steered him wrong, so he doesn’t protest. He turns away from the bloody murder and runs in the opposite direction, following the crowd of scared civilians.

One is strictly professional, but the relief is in her tone. “I’m hacking the target’s phone. He took photos. I have the files.” 

“Thanks for the save.” 

“Always.”

2021

Carmen sits on the porch, wrapped in a blanket, listening to the running water upstairs. It’s odd to have a guest, let alone two, but she’s thankful for the company. She figures that now that Donald is gone, like Six and Claire, she doesn’t really have anybody left. Tears prick the corner of her eyes, but she dilutes them with a sip of scotch. It’s horrible stuff, something Fitz left behind, but she’s drinking it in his honor.

As Oscar One said he would, Six finds all he needs in the bedroom next door to where he set Claire down, including clothes and bandages. It’s been a long, stressful couple of days, and it’s not until he steps into the shower that he realizes he hasn’t asked her real name. Once he’s ready, in clean sweatpants that fit and a fresh white tee thrown over his shoulder that’s also his size, he seeks to remedy that situation. 

The half-nakedness isn’t to show off his physique or to reassure Oscar One that they both have scars. It’s to let his freshly dressed wounds air dry. Luckily, he didn’t pull any stitches while carrying Claire.

The smell of bacon hits Six as he steps into the kitchen, mouth watering at the sight of the film-wrapped sandwich on the countertop. The whole thing is about two inches deep. Fluffy white bread holds chunks of white chicken mixed with salty bacon, sliced tomato, and the greenest lettuce he’s ever seen. Once he unwraps it and lifts a corner of the bread, he finds a healthy serving of mayonnaise.

Living alone is something Carmen is used to. Sometimes, she thinks the solitude surrounding her has helped fine-tune her hearing because she hears Six remove the film wrap from the sandwich and sniff it. “There’s chips in the pantry,” she calls from the porch.

The sandwich looks plentiful, so he takes it out to the porch sans chips. Crickets chirp, a distant bird sings as the night draws in, and Six walks to the edge of the porch, taking time to appreciate the spectacular view — trees and green as far as the eye can see. The world could end, and they’d never know.

“Find everything you need?” she asks.

“Yeah, thanks. How’d you know my size?”

“Donald Fitzroy,” she says, fondness and grief coating his name as she raises a glass of mahogany liquid to the fading sun. “He’d visit every couple of months, always had a suitcase of crap with him.” 

Six walks across the porch, hoisting himself and his sandwich, to sit on the wide brick wall. “He knew I’d come here,” he concludes, looking out at the forest and the dirt road he drove up. 

“He had a plan for everything.” She explains, “That was part of my deal, to stay on this side of the bars.”

Six turns to look at her again. Although she said she was Sierra, it hadn't occurred to him that Fitzroy could have found her the same way he found Six, on the wrong side of the law, rotting in a jail cell. 

She continues, “I had to take you in if you ever needed it,” motioning with her half-empty glass to indicate all of his wounds and bruises, “and it definitely looks like you need it.”

She’s right. He had no plan other than rescuing Claire. After that, he had no idea what he was going to do. They drove as far as a full tank of gas took them, and when Claire fearfully asked him what they were going to do next, he had no answer. Claire was the one to offer the solution, and honestly, they had nothing to lose.

“I’m guessing you know my story,” Six states rather than asks, and she gives a slight nod. “How did Fitz recruit you?” He takes a huge bite of the sandwich and hums appreciatively around a half smile. 

2000

Carmen shuffles inside the interrogation room, cuffs on her ankles and wrists. She understands the precaution, but it's ridiculous. Despite her crime, which she has never denied, she has no ill intentions against anyone.

Donald sits at the desk, laptop open, an official brown document folder beside it. He nods to the guard, who then backs out, closing the door behind him once she’s taken her seat.

“Hi,” he says with a gentle smile. “I’m Donald Fitzroy. I’m going to cut right to the chase.” He turns the laptop around, pulls a slip of paper out of the document wallet, and slides them both over to her. He watches her eyes flick over the instructions on the page and expects the cocked brow she gives him. “I need you to get me access to that.”

She doesn’t ask why. It’s not the first time an unidentified or lettered government agency has asked her to do such a thing, and she doubts it’ll be the last. She taps a few keys and bypasses the government’s supposed firewall - they really should find someone better equipped to build the thing - in forty-five seconds. If her hands weren’t cuffed, she’d pat herself on the back. It’s nice to know she hasn’t lost her touch during her incarceration. “What kind of access do you need?”

“View only is fine.” 

Donald waits for her to ask what’s in it for her or why he wants it done. But she taps away at the keys. His eyes flick to the clock, and he waits a full five minutes before interrupting her concentration.

“It’s a tough one, huh?”

She shrugs, “Not really. I got in three minutes ago. I’ve been playing solitaire.” She turns the computer back to him with a playful smirk.

The screen shows him exactly what he expected it to show him, but regardless, he smiles. He knows he has the right person for the job and loves being right. He opens the document folder again. “Carmody, initial H, born nineteen eighty. Got your first taste of the correctional system in nineteen ninety-four, juvenile prison for cybercrimes, before we really understood what cybercrime was and hit the big leagues in nineteen ninety-eight, life without the possibility of parole for first-degree murder.” 

She rolls her hands as best she can and bows her head as if thanking the audience. “At your service.” 

“You're wasted here.”

“I do my part,” she argues, “I teach women who wouldn’t otherwise have a chance how to use a computer and software to give them better options when they get out. But seeing as you addressed me by my surname leads me to believe you know I take great offense to being called by my given name, which means you know more than you’d like me to know that you know, and all this,” the chains rattle as she motions toward the computer, “was a test.” 

“Like I said, wasted.” Donald smiles. “You're two years in and never appealed the decision.”

She looks decidedly bored. After all, he’s only telling her things she already knows. She was there, she lived it, and she suspects he knows she didn’t appeal because it would have been a waste of everyone’s time and money.

Though, there is one thing he doesn’t know, so he asks, “Still think it was worth it?” 

“Every goddamn day. I go to bed with a smile on my face and sleep like a baby.”

“Fair enough,” Donald nods, “I’d be the same. He deserved everything he got.”

“Actually, he deserved a slow, agonizingly painful death, but y’know,” she shrugs, “I was pressed for time.”

She’s deathly serious - excuse the pun - and Donald sees why the judge threw the proverbial book at her. She has no remorse, and in his opinion, rightfully so, but life imprisonment is a waste of her talent, talents of which he thinks can be adapted and grown.

“What would you say if I told you I could get you out of here and you wouldn’t be pressed for time should you encounter a similar monster?”

“I’d say tell me what I have to do.”

2021

It feels like a lifetime ago, the day Donald changed her life, and while Carmen talks about it, she gets lost in the memory. It’s bittersweet. She owes a lot to Donald Fitzroy and will do all she can to pay it back. 

“I was in the field for just over a year before this,” she points at her face. Her pause is born of grief, a reminder of the life before she was mutilated.

There is and will forever be a before and after, like how people treated her or how she felt about herself. Society treats beautiful people differently. It isn’t, nor has it ever been right, but it was the way of the world, and as Sierra, she used it to her advantage. She’d never been exceptionally vain, but still, some days, she found it hard to look at herself. Even now, she has days when she’s bitterly angry about it. 

Six recognizes her beauty, scars and all. She doesn’t strike him as a vain person, but he can understand how it must have affected her life. Sometimes, he’d get a glimpse of himself, passing a window or the stupid front-facing camera on his phone, and it’d take his breath away because he’d see his father. 

Mirthlessly, she smiles, and a hint of bitterness seeps into her tone. “Can’t be inconspicuous with such a recognizable face, and I, for sure, thought they’d dump me back inside.”

“But Fitz kept you on.”

“I don’t know what story he fed the agency, but for all intents and purposes, I was gone, wiped off the grid. He set me up here, checked in almost every day, visited once every couple of months, and now I think I understand why.”

Six nods, agreeing with her line of thought. “He was building his retirement plan.”

“Not his,” Carmen corrects. 

The scenery is no longer interesting and Six pulls his attention away from it to look at her because now he doesn’t understand her thought process. 

“He was ensuring your retirement,” she says softly as if that will make the realization sting less. “There’s nothing in those wardrobes,” she points back inside the house, "that would fit Donald. They are all in your and Claire’s sizes. He’s been doing it for years, bringing new stuff and taking stuff that would be too small for her as she grew. Donald was never going to retire here, Six, or he never thought he’d get the chance, but he planned for you to be here.”

Sierras aren’t known for riding off into the sunset or surviving to the point of retirement age, but her assumptions and the evidence to back up her claims seem correct. 

Six scoffs, the idea almost laughable. He doesn’t quite believe it was a plan, more of a fail-safe, to keep Claire protected should Donald ever meet his maker. Then again, why would Fitz bring clothes for Six if he didn’t expect Six to be Claire’s savior or perhaps guardian?

Contemplative silence lingers for a while, and the birds fall silent as the sun disappears and the nocturnal creatures begin to wake. 

As with most Sierra operations, there’s never a paper trail. Most of it gets swept under the rug, so Carmen isn’t aware of the circumstances surrounding Donald’s death. Perhaps she’s better off not knowing. Ignorance is bliss, so they say. Six won’t offer the information without prompting, but in the twilight, she decides she’s not ready to hear it. 

Eventually, the questions and quest for knowledge interrupt the thoughtful reminiscing, and Six has to ask, ��How do you survive out here?” 

“There’s a Walmart a couple of hours from here and a small town with a Farmer’s Market not too far from that. I do a monthly run, two if I can stretch it.”

“And no one knows you're here?” he questions skeptically. 

“As far as I know, only Fitz,” she says, sipping her drink to douse the grief in her tone. “The only people who know I’m here now are you and Claire. There’s no family or friends.” She’s not bitter about the fact. Carmen smirks, “So if you want to off me and seize the place, it’s yours for the taking.”

“Maybe when I’m feeling better,” Six deadpans.

All joking aside, she looks somber. He's hiding it well, but there’s a slight wince to every movement, a noticeable slower pace for a man his size. “Last couple of days are starting to take their toll, huh?”

It’s a segue to, hopefully, get him to tell her what happened, but he’s not easily swayed.

He grumbles as he slowly pulls himself to the edge of the wall and takes his time to stand up. He stretches his arms high above his head, and Carmen watches until she realizes it could be misconstrued as checking him out and averts her eyes. 

“Last couple of days or years,” he says, mid-stretch adding, “and Lloyd fucking Hansen.” as he drops his arms again. 

Carmen's reaction is immediate. She shoots to the edge of her seat, distaste and hatred sneering at her lips. “Wait, Hansen was involved?”

The reaction isn’t surprising. Lloyd usually has that effect on people, but Six recognizes that it’s something deeper than having a run-in with the guy. “Yes,” Six tells her.

“Of course he was,” she snaps, lips tight with agitation. “I should have known, this shitshow has his fingerprints all over it!” 

Her chest heaves with simmering anger while she fits the pieces together in her head. The CIA keeps Sierra-involved missions close to their chest, strictly off-book, so she hadn’t been able to garner sufficient information to understand precisely what happened. 

“Was it…. Was he….” she can’t find the words because she already knows the answer. She’d always thought it inevitable that Lloyd would be involved in her grief again someday. “Donald,” she starts again, clearing her throat of emotion, “it was Hansen, wasn’t it?”

Six nods and chews his bottom lip before elaborating, “Fitz got shot in the escape. He wasn’t going to make it. He knew he was slowing us down. He cornered Hansen and some of his guys, then pulled a pin off a grenade.”

The anger yields to a mild hopefulness. “So Hansen is dead?”

Six nods, “The trash ‘stache is no more.”

Carmen smiles, satisfied. “That was too quick a death, but I’m glad it was Donald.”

“That’s not how he died,” Six explains. 

The anger returns in the form of her hand gripping the chair's arm tightly, knuckles turning white. “What happened?”

Six recounts events from the takedown of Four to his rescue of Claire and Donald from the house in Croatia, taking them through a quarter bottle of scotch and three beers each. Carmen asks questions, and he answers them as best he can. She fills in some blanks on the Carmichael side, and it all helps to get Six’s thoughts in order and clarify a few murky details. 

“Clarie blew off a few of Lloyd’s fingers. He burnt her face with a flare gun, and of course, if you know Lloyd and from your reaction, I assume you're acquainted, he tried to prove he was better than me. I beat him pretty good, but then Suzanne Brewer put one in his chest.”

“Fuck,” Carmen gripes, “he should have fucking suffered.”

“So you’ve definitely met the guy,” Six notes flatly.

She meets his gaze with a heavy sigh. “I had the displeasure a few times.” 

Six isn’t one to pry, but he’s shared details about himself, okay, more so about the mission he was involved in, but he put everything on the line to save Claire and Donald, though he failed the latter. He knows that tells Carmen a lot about him, more than he’d willingly share with most people.

He isn’t staring at her scar. He’s mesmerized by her eyes, momentarily lost in trying to figure out if they are amber in color or if the orange-tinged sky reflects in them. She gives him little time to decide, shying away, but he uses a gentle finger beneath her chin to bring her gaze back to his. “Is Hansen the one who did that?” 

She doesn’t need to answer. The wriggling out of his grip and avoiding eye contact to look at her fidgeting hands in her lap is enough confirmation, but she takes a deep breath and gives him a half smile. “If you wanna hear about it, we’re gonna need more booze.” 

2003 

Being a cog in the Sierra machine has its perks. Not being stuck in an eight-by-eight cell is an obvious one, but seeing different corners of the world, having fun pretending to be someone else, fine dining, and luxury hotels were top of the list. There were drawbacks, too. Having to be incognito and traveling to distant places usually meant cargo planes, which weren’t exactly first-class service, but Carmen never complained. Donald had given her a second chance, and she’d never take it for granted.

Except when she had to team up with Lloyd Hansen.

“Fitz, c’mon! Why am I here?” she whines into the phone. The fact that she’s lying in the middle of a queen-size bed staring up at a half-million dollar chandelier in the penthouse suite of a hotel in Dubai isn’t lost on her. She’s grateful for the opportunity but sick of being Lloyd’s maid. 

“He asked for you.”

“He asked for me? That means he’s already screwed it up, and I’m here to clean up his mess. Again! Isn’t it about time you locked him up and threw away the key?” she asks, already knowing the answer. He’s a sociopath, psychotic at times, but nine times out of ten, he’s effective - until he isn’t. “This is the third time I’m cleaning up his mess, and the last time he almost blew my cover acting like a petulant child ‘cause he didn’t get his own way.”

“He’s a petulant child because he likes you,” Fitzroy tells her, not for the first time.

The idea of having Lloyd’s affection makes her skin crawl. He’s all mustache and sharp edges. “That’s not a compliment,” she says. 

Fitzroy sighs, and she imagines him running a hand down his face. “Don’t worry, this will be the last time, I swear. I have his replacement ready to go,” he explains in a hushed whisper, not wanting to be overheard from his office.

Curiosity peeks, and though she knows he won’t give her concrete details, she asks, “Sierra?” Lloyd isn’t technically part of the Sierra program. He was kicked out pretty early during the process, but he has friends high on the food chain. 

“Uh-huh,” he confirms. “Six. He’s excelling in the program. Almost better than you.” The teasing smile filters into his tone. “I just need to get him on a few smaller missions before I set him loose. And he has a full beard, like a real man.”

Carmen chuckles. She forgets how much Donald pays attention. She’s complained about the mustache before, so he knows that's ten percent of her issue with Hansen. “Fine, he better be cute,” she concedes. “And if Hansen happens to be collateral damage during this mission, there’s to be no questions asked.”

Fitz heartily laughs, “Deal.”

The mission is a success, despite Lloyd’s involvement, and unfortunately, for Carmen at least, he survives without a scratch.

“Come on, one drink,” Lloyd insists. “We’ve got the night to ourselves. Fitzroy put you up in this beautiful hotel…” 

Yes, Fitzroy did put her in a different hotel from him, on purpose, to avoid this very situation. 

“...What’re you gonna do instead,” he snarks, “go crochet a sweater for Donald?” His declared, “Boring!” echoes around the marble reception area, and she silently apologizes to the few guests who turn to look. 

The implication of a close relationship with her handler is nothing new, so she doesn’t bother responding. But Lloyd isn’t a man who gives up easily.

“One drink,” he repeats, walking beside her toward the elevators. 

The last thing she wants is to spend any time with him and his molester-esque mustache on a professional or a social level, but Lloyd is a persistent fuck, and she has no doubt he’d likely follow her to her room and push his way inside. At least if she sits at the bar with him, she’ll have somewhere to escape.

“Fine,” she sighs, rolling her eyes, “I’m going to the bathroom. Get me a Cosmo.”

“What room number? I’ll put it on the tab.” 

She rolls her eyes. He asks her to go for a drink, but apparently, the agency is paying for it. Such a gentleman. “Penthouse.”

His positively disgruntled scowl makes her day, and she kind of wishes she’d invited him up to see it. She manages to hide her laugh until she’s in the bathroom.

The Cosmo is one of the best she’s ever had, and if she doesn’t look directly at him, he’s not that bad of a conversationalist. Unless that’s the booze talking. She’s only had two, yet her head is swimming. Something’s not right. Was there something in the drink? Is their cover blown?

Lloyd seems fine, but she’s having trouble focusing, so it’s hard to tell. He’s droning on about some ‘dipshit’ he had to deal with on his last mission, so she eyes the bartender. He doesn’t appear interested in them. There are no surreptitious glances their way or feigned ignorance of their conversation. He probably can’t even hear them as he’s at the other end of the bar, slicing lemons and restocking his condiment tray.

“I don’t feel too good.” she twists the stool to face away from the bar, needing to see who’s around.

Two other couples are in the bar, but they are too far away for drink spiking to be an effective plan. She looks back to Lloyd, and his twisted smile makes her realize the error she made in trusting him.

The floor seems to be getting awfully close. “Woooo, there,” Lloyd says, wrapping an arm around her to keep her from face-planting on the tile. Her head lulls against his shoulder, tilted far enough to see the bartender is now across from them.

 “Sir, is everything okay?” The bartender asks, but it sounds so far away. She tries to form words to ask for help, but her tongue feels heavy and thick. “Please-"

Lloyd preempts any further response from her. “Everything’s fine. We’re celebrating our engagement. A little too much excitement and too much alcohol… Put the drinks on the penthouse tab, please.”

She’d never heard him be so polite or sound so…human. That’s the last thought she has before her world goes black. 

Carmen’s eyes flutter open, adjusting to the dusky light of the room. They focus on the ridiculously priced chandelier above her. She wonders how the hotel installed it. It’s big and looks heavy. It must be a bitch to clean! 

Her thought process is murky, and she tries to lift her arm to push the hair off her face. It’s tickling her cheek, but her limb doesn’t move. She tries to sit up, but none of her limbs respond. Her chest rises and falls, but she only knows that from the panic-filled breaths she hears exiting her lips.

“Finally,” Lloyd huffs from somewhere in the room. “I thought you were never going to wake up.”

She turns her head, and to her surprise, it moves. Lloyd sits on a plush chair beside the bed, looking bored and agitated at having to wait for her to come around.

“There she is,” he sighs, almost wistfully, and if it weren’t for the flick knife he’s expertly twirling in his hand, she might have thought he was genuinely concerned. 

“Lloyd,” she mumbles, “what’s going on?” 

He continues to expertly twirl the knife, ignoring her question. “You know I really did like you. You’re smart, formidable, and a pleasure to work with when you aren’t being a complete bitch.” Venom laces the word, but he keeps his face void of emotion. “You are beautiful. It’s almost sickening that they locked up such beauty. Maybe that’s why Fitzroy recruited you. Too wasteful to spend your youthful years in a cell and not seducing people for your country's benefit.”

“Geez, you like the sound of your own voice.” It’s too slurred to portray her boredom as effectively as she’d like. 

“Because I’m the only one that makes sense,” he shrugs, smiling smugly, underlining the arrogance of his belief in that statement. 

Carmen rolls her eyes, along with her head, to look away from him. She’s bored of this already. The disrespect angers him, and he reaches over, grabs her chin, and violently jerks her head to face him again. “Those eyes,” he grits his teeth, “those damn fuckin’ eyes that do nothing but look at me with repulsion.” Elation and admiration cement his tone, “WOW, mesmerizing!”

She could get whiplash from listening to him. “Just do whatever you're going to do,” she growls, wincing when he pinches harder, putting almost unbearable pressure on her jaw and teeth. “Save me the monologuing.”

“Fine,” he leers, sinister and taunting. “Carmichael showed me the report from the last mission. What was I? Unhinged, chaotic, reckless, and dangerous.”

Through gritted teeth, she snarls, “There’s only so many professional ways to say bat shit crazy.” She manages to wriggle her face free and turns away, looking back up at the ceiling. 

Before her mind wanders back to the chandelier because it's way more interesting than Lloyd, the bed bounces, and he's on top of her, straddling her hips. If she weren’t numb from the neck down, she’d feel where his knees crush her hands against the bed. “We could have been a team.”

She scoffs, using the fear as fake bravado, “I’d rather go back to prison.” Tears spill, and she feels them drip down her ears. Instinctively, she tries to lift her arm to wipe them away but it’s as unresponsive as the first time she tried. 

“Oh, that’s where they’ll send you,” Lloyd smiles, genuinely happy, “because you’ll be no good to the agency anymore.”

“Whatever you do to me will be the end for you.” 

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” he admits, “I’m so sick of Fitzroy and all his bullshit. But what you fail to realize is that Fitzroy won’t be in charge forever!” Gently running the cold blade down around her cheek, almost like a lover’s caress. He continues, “Don’t worry. I’m gonna spare your eyes. I want you to see how everyone reacts to your new face.”

“You're proving I was right, Lloyd!” Carmen snarls and works up a wad of saliva to spit it in his face. 

The consequence of the action is immediate, and Lloyd doesn’t bother wiping it away. He presses the blade to the bridge of her nose, “every time you look in the mirror, you’ll remember me.” 

2021

Carmen wipes away a tear, and Six is polite enough to look away to give her a little privacy to reign in her emotions.

It’s funny that she didn’t cry or scream when it happened. She wouldn’t give Lloyd the satisfaction, but now, whenever she recounts the event, she can’t stop the tears from falling. She’s never really processed it, at least not in a healthy way, and having to relive it every time she looks in the mirror, as Lloyd promised, she feels it all over again. 

“Sorry,” she apologizes to Six, who’s clearly uncomfortable at the show of emotion. 

There’s nothing to be sorry for, so Six doesn’t acknowledge the apology, and Carmen doesn’t really know why she offered it.

As the conversation and drinks flow, so does the night. It doesn’t feel like they have been talking all that long, but when Six checks his watch, he realizes it’s been a long while.  “Sun will be up soon.” 

“You should get some rest,” she says. “Can’t imagine you’ve slept much lately.”

That is the understatement of the century. Except for his drug-addled sleep in Miranda’s trunk, he doesn’t remember his last full night's sleep. He stands and stretches his arms over his head, feeling his muscles and bones pop.

Six thinks of wishing her a good night but realizes he didn’t remedy the situation as he had set out to do earlier. He’d been distracted by the delicious sandwich. “This is awkward. We’ve been talking for a few hours, but what’s your name?”

She looks up at him, the porch light highlighting her amusement. “It’s not Oscar One.” She chuckles, “It’s Carmody. But Carmen is fine.”

“Carmody,” he repeats, “sounds more like a surname.”

“It is. My first name is Haven.”

He stares for twenty seconds, waiting for her to laugh or deliver a punchline, but she stares back. It isn’t a joke. 

“I wish I were making it up,” she says finally. “It’s stupid and ironic, and I hate it because of who gave it to me. So I’d appreciate it if you don’t use it.”

He nods solemnly. He understands more than she realizes. He hates his name simply because of the man who gave it to him. He much prefers Six and the man who gave it to him.

To be a good guest, he collects their empty beer bottles and takes them inside. Following Carmen’s instructions on where to put them, Six deposits them in a bin labeled ‘Glass’. She does her part to help the environment, so her monthly supply run includes disposing of any recyclable materials.

Six notices the wine glass turned upside down on the drainer, and he remembers a conversation from long ago.

“Carmen,” he calls softly through the house, knowing the breeze will take it to her through the open doors and windows. 

A few short seconds later, she steps through the backdoor, a crease of concern in her brow that he may need something. “Yeah.” 

“What’re you doing after this?” he asks, unable to keep from smiling.

It takes her a half second to remember. She shrugs, matching his joyful smile. “There’s a bottle of red cooling in the fridge and a pizza with my name on it somewhere.”

“Want some company?”

“I’d love some.” She shies away for a millisecond before her smile turns to a devilish grin, and she jokes, “But I never said I’d share either.”

Six huffs a laugh through his nose, slowly continuing his path through the house. “Goodnight, Carmen.”

A/N (2): okay, I read it through again before clicking post and I absolutely love it and if you made it this far I hope you did too.💜

Feedback is soul food and I appreciate it more than you will ever know 💜

Master Lists: Main // Other Fandoms

[louellaby]

FORGET-ME-NOT

REPLACED!MC AU

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W A R N I N G

May contain bad grammar, limited vocabulary, and OOC characters. Please mind that English is not my first language, and it takes a lot of courage for me to post due to my anxiety and paranoia.

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taglist: @books-and-catears @owl778 @yourlocalgrass @kaiserkisser @hhurric4ne @amberheavendremurr @yu-ulda @bk-4-trash-fire

PROLOGUE | CHAPTER I | CHAPTER II | CHAPTER III | LOUE'S LETTER | CHAPTER IV | CHAPTER V | LOUE'S LETTER | CHAPTER VI | CHAPTER VII | CHAPTER VIII | CHAPTER IX | CHAPTER X | LOUE'S LETTER | EPILOGUE

C H A P T E R I X

「 Happy Birthday, Dear Lady Soley 」

The day arrived when everyone was to surprise Soley for her birthday. It became a huge surprise indeed when an unexpected storm came to greet her as well. The winds were lashing; trees were almost to the point of snapping in half. The rain kept pouring. One could barely see through it.

Needless to say, the lady was not happy.

"I'm sorry we couldn't hold your party outside just as we planned, Soley.."

"Yeah, we even set up a treasure hunt since you love those... but I think all the clues are now either soaked by the rain or blown away by the harsh wind."

"They're definitely gone by now if the trees could barely keep themselves grounded."

The girl was standing near the window, back faced towards the brothers who worried about her continued silence. She pressed her hand against the glass, eyes never leaving the scene outside. The brothers noticed the scowl on her face from her faint reflection. It seemed like she was cursing the rain, the wind, and everything else. Including them.

"Soley?" Lucifer took the steps none of his brothers dared, and he placed a hand on the girl's head. She slowly looked up at him after a minute, frown gone and replaced with a teary expression.

"Lucifer," she croaked, "... is my birthday ruined now? Are we not going to celebrate it anymore?"

The demon's brows twitched before he stroked her head ever so gently; just as he did to someone else all those months ago.

"I will speak with Diavolo and see what we can do. Don't worry, Soley. We will make sure you get your special day."

Soley wiped away the tears from her eyes and showed the eldest a slight smile.

"Thank you, Luci."

Some of the brothers exchanged glances, which Soley didn't pick up on. Lucifer was hiding them well from her view. He smiled back at her with a nod before giving orders to his brothers to behave themselves and take care of Soley until his return from the castle. No one argued with him about going through the storm despite its severity. They all knew it needed to happen.

"A faraway mansion?!"

Lucifer has returned from the Demon Lord's Castle to the House of Lamentation, bearing good news for Soley, who jumped in surprise upon hearing them.

"Yes, that's right," Lucifer nodded his head in response as his brothers offered him a towel to dry himself off. "Diavolo has built a vacation mansion months ago at the edge of the Devildom where he frequently tampers with the environment. There, he can guarantee that no foul weather will spoil your day."

"Then what are we waiting for?! Let's go now before my birthday is over!"

Lucifer turned to his brothers and told everyone to pack their bags and meet back in the entrance hall. There was no arguing. Everyone did as they were told.

Upon arriving at the mentioned mansion, Soley was in awe. It wasn't enough for the building to be called a mansion as it looked more like a castle. The walls were made of bricks of the darkest colour, yet they give off a pearly shine when basked in the moon's glow. The moat around the structure was surprisingly clear and filled with rare fish that had the same hue as the moon. The inside of the building was beautifully decorated with banners, flags, and different kinds of flowers from all three worlds.

Soley loved every bit of it.

Except for a specific bloom displayed as the main theme of the beautiful arrangements in each and every vase. Its blue-ish hue irritated the lady for reasons unknown to her and the rest of the group.

"Lucifer," Soley called out to the demon. They were all walking around the halls to get themselves familiar with the layout. The six youngest brothers were walking ahead, talking amongst themselves.

Lucifer, with his arms crossed, turned his gaze from the beautiful paintings on the walls to the girl whose stare made him raise his eyebrow. "What is it?" He asked in wonder.

"While we were on our way here, you told us Lord Diavolo had the place decorated especially for our arrival, right?"

"Yes, that is correct."

"I'm quite certain I previously gave you a list of my favourite things, including my beloved types of flowers— and let me tell you, forget-me-nots are not one of them."

The Avatar of Pride looked to where the lady was pointing. He was about to open his mouth in reply until everyone stopped in their tracks when they reached the great hall. They all heard footsteps coming from the balcony just above the doors they had entered.

"Oh my, it's not polite to complain about decorations someone else worked on, my lady. Especially at a place you don't even own."

"But you seem to be satisfied with everything else, so you don't know how happy I am to know how much you're enjoying yourself."

The birthday girl's eyes widened in horror as soon as she heard the very same voice she dreaded ever hearing again.

Quickly spinning on her heels, she met the mocking gaze of another human. You.

"I wish you a happy birthday, dear Lady Soley."

「 CHAPTER VIII | CHAPTER X 」

[suffarustuffaru]

Opinion on Reinhard's dad possibly seeing "the son he never had" on Garfiel? It could totally take that route tbh

It would be a fun dynamic imo

oh anon as a heinkel fan (hes soo terrible but so fascinating and i WANT to see him get better and grow as a person. but also you may have known that since you are asking me this hah) and someone who is quite fond of garf i lovedddd the recent heinkel-garfiel chapters... and LMAO this idea of like. heinkel being a bit soft on garfiel bc yay!! new son replacement!!! is SO FUNNY ive thought about it a little bit. and IT WOULD BE FUN and i think heinkels arc is super interesting bc he kinda hit his rock bottom in like about arc 7-early arc 8 where its like. its post arc 5 astrea drama so shit just got even more bleak for heinkel, hes stuck in dangerous territory and he doesnt believe in himself At All and hes too depressed to really try all that much at anything.

but then GARFIEL comes along and saves heinkel a couple times and garfiel gets hit down but keeps getting right tf up - and that goes against like literally everything heinkel thinks. he doesnt try to be better bc he doesnt think he can ever accomplish it no matter how hard he tries, but garfiel is someone who just WONT stop trying.

and we also see that heinkel learning more about rowan and cecilus and the whole deal with the segmunts has made heinkel go "oh. okay haha maybe im not as far gone as i thought" bc heinkel gets shown another example of a dysfunctional family with an extremely op son and a deadbeat alcoholic dad and theyre a mirror of reinhard and heinkel. except rowan and cecilus are like if reinhard and heinkel werent so miserable about their shit relationship, bc as shitty as heinkels behavior is deep down he still CARES. he cares a lot about his family. he misses reinhard - why else would he need schult to be a replacement? he's still mourning that loss, if you think about it. but rowan is just so batshit that heinkel immediately goes backtracking like "OKAY IM. IM NOT THAT BAD. MAYBE THERES A TINY LITTLE SPECK OF HOPE FOR ME AFTER ALL."

and garfiel is helping to be a catalyst as well bc of his own determination to always keep growing and keep fighting no matter what gets in his way. hes a spunky little kid whos powerful but when faced with opponents stronger than him Refuses To Give Up. thats inspirational i think for heinkel, especially when its not as if hes a shit fighter, dude is just outshadowed by his family and other people around him. he just has to get up and keep trying, so its interesting that heinkel DOES find the courage to try and protect garfiel while garfiel's trying not to die.

like i do think that its heinkel like having this grudging respect for garfiel after the interactions theyve had, also possibly feeling inspired by garfiel and having that tiny bit of hope in him after meeting rowan and interacting with garfiel, and also trying to repay garfiel. bc heinkel treats himself like dirt and gets treated like dirt a lot - im sure his thought process might be "this kid took the time to keep saving me even though im literally worthless and now hes in danger, this is the least i can do". i would be interested if it went the route of like. heinkel having that fatherly instinct rekindled - i think itd be interesting for garfiel as well bc. he IS lacking a father figure, but for heinkel, i think that its clear with how he acts with schult that heinkel does kind of miss having a son and having that sort of love in his life.

we know he DID use to be a good dad, and tbh i always kind of headcanoned that heinkel probably isnt that mean with most kids unless its someone like. you know. subaru. or julius. or reinhard of course. like heinkels not that much of an ass when his life is on the line or when there isnt super personal stakes involved (ie astrea stuff). hes a character that carries a lot of guilt and shame and self-hatred, someone who's spiraled into being the worst version of himself when he used to be bright-eyed and hardworking and full of love despite the weight on his shoulders - i think he would see a very kind and determined and spirited kid like garfiel (and might be reminded of the kid he Used to love) and hope that garfiel doesnt end up like him (ie lost, burnt out, and depressed). we see this sort of behavior a bit with schult too, bc heinkel tries to give schult advice and tries to look after schult a bit in general!! and garfiel's like a better version of heinkel you know? garfiel's a bit abrasive with a quick temper and all but hes extremely well intentioned in just about everything he does. and i think heinkel might have a fondness for all of garfiel's antics at this point T^T

but yes ty for the ask anon !! :o im very interested to see where heinkel and garfiel go from here, bc it looks like heinkel's started some baby steps in his growth!!

[skyloftsword]

Fire Emblem Engage Review and Thoughts

Fire Emblem Engage is legitimately my comfort game I don't think any other game has helped my mental health improve as much as this game. The amount of negativity I've seen surrounding Tears of the Kingdom made my mental health and sanity deteriorate to the point where I lost a friend. Engage is the only thing keeping me somewhat sane, genuinely my favorite game of all time thanks to how impactful it has been to me. I wanted to write a piece about this game because of how much I appreciate what it has done for me.

The story is simple and not the best thing ever, but its still the most fun I've had with a story before and its serious moments really hit for me. I quite honestly do not think this game's final battle will ever be topped for me because of how much fun it had with itself, especially with that absolute masterpiece of a song. The characters also are really simple but man do they really help the story hit. I don't think I loved a cast as much as this game's because of how funny they are, especially Pandreo and Amber. Alear is an excellent protagonist as well because of their growth throughout the story. They start off extremely cowardly when they just wake up to courageous but still somewhat scared but willing to do whatever it takes for the safety of the world and its people.

The music in this game is genuinely incredible... and very cheesy (which is a great thing). Whenever I feel horrible, I listen to Emblem, Engage! and all my worries go away. The map themes are also really, really good as well such as the Solm one and Tear Streaked (Ice). This game's soundtrack absolutely lived up to the expectations set from Three Houses and Three Hopes to me.

The gameplay is definitely a vast improvement over Three Houses' which I still enjoyed. Bringing back the weapon triangle helped give the game more of a challenge and strategy. The addition of the Break mechanic also makes following the weapon triangle more important, however you can't break armored units (unless magic does that). Also bosses no longer feel like a slog to take down like they did in Three Houses. Emblems also add fun gimmicks to battles, such as Warp Ragnarok with Celica and Goddess Dance with Byleth.

Speaking of gameplay, the Somniel is fine. Its far from bad, especially after all the quality of life improvements added post-launch for free alongside the DLC updates, but it definitely gets repetitive after a while. The lack of New Game+ also hurts replayability for this game for me, but I heard that wasn't really a thing with earlier FE games so its not a big deal. Also the bonds between characters and emblems are extremely short for whatever reason, two lines for C and B bonds and four lines for A bonds.

Overall, Fire Emblem Engage is my favorite game of all time and the most important game to me. I love this game to death despite my few issues with it (because to be fair, every game ever has flaws). This game has been a massive help to my mental health and to that, I say thank you Intelligent Systems for this wonderful, silly game.

[snowmaze1969]

Just finished totk and boy do I have some thoughts. (no i totally didn't watch someone else do the ending after i had completed all of the other main quests because i got impatient. totally......)

anyway totk spoilers for the whole game below. also my thoughts will become less conherant as it goes on lmaoooooo have fun o7

I'm going to put it frankly, I disliked the ending. (for the most part) while there were some amazing parts that I loved (cough, the sages, cough) I feel like the whole zelda part could have been done better. Just a disclaimer I DO NOT ship botw/totk zelink. that's a whole other post i'm not going to do rn but just thought i'd put that there. The first part in the depths was great. It was brilliant even. I loved the sages and I loved the whole Gannon swallowing the stone just to kill like. It is SO in character. It is such a Gannon thing to get rid of all traces of his humanity (hylianity???) just to kill his fate entwined nemesis. like, oq3ighbqpeifjnqpirjgnpqieugnqpithjnpiqgn. omg. Amazing. then dragon Zelda came in and I was like ok. That makes sense. some instinctual part of her dragon self must have realized that Darkness = bad and link = trying to fight darkness = good. so I was like ok. and honestly that fight was pretty epic. It was something new. I was really well done. Then I feel like it started to go downhill. I can say that I almost cried when you were able to rewind time for Zelda. I was like omg they can bury the body, give her peace. The whole shabang. And then Zelda woke up and I was like ugh. I hate it because its so tropey. The classic good beats evil the princess falls in love with the knight in shining armor everything is great. botw did better with this. while the whole loz series is that trope, botw felt more like an, we made a lot of sacrifices and things wont be ok for a while but maybe someday it can get better etc. nothing lovey dovey there. but then totk gone and did the everything turned out great ending. I would have loved a Zelda died ending. i'm not a zelda hater but I feel like it would build off of the whole oh boy everything is shit rn but it will get better given time. They don't need the monarchy anymore link can be free etc. When zelda lives it gives off a very happy everything is great vibes. despite the fact that uh. no???? It's not????? Mineru was obviously sad but I feel like they ruined it by trying to do more zelink shipping. It gives off very I know I was an asshole at first and I know you has a fish gf but now shes dead and i'm nicer too you now but I was also only mad at you because of my destiny/things out of your control lol lets date. Like what????????? idk but that just sounds weird to me.

anyway i'm going to compleatly change topic and talk about future lozs/ and endings.

This is a brilliant place to end this timeline. there are many theorys about what timeline/ where its placed but I feel like this game is the end. The whole Gannon gets consumed and finally destroyed etc perfect ending. It has a very clear air of finality about it. And honestly I feel that if Zelda had died it would have added A BUNCH too it. It would cement that finality. Gannon is gone fr this time (power) Zelda would be dead (wisdom) and there is no proof that link has the triforce of courage so idk man but that feels like nothing but the ending of a timeline. (but of course Zelda HAD to live because of their precious good always triumphs evil/ knight in shining armor & princess love intrest trope but ya know. whatever)

Talking about a future game, I would love to see something in the ww timeline (no it's not cause it's my fave game who said that.) I think it would also be cool if they gave the new game an open world setting like botw/totk but added a linear story line. (kinda like ww but with a lil more open worldiness) but idk thats just my opinion.

Anyway feel free to yell at me or have a convo in the responses i'd LOVE to hear your opinions. Just dont hate on me plz just cause I have different opinions than you. i'd love to hear an avid zelink shipper give me their opinion but anyways bye yall.

[sci-fiworlds]

Battlestar Galactica - Sci-Fi and the Terror Wars

Very sadly Stuart Miller's Alien Worlds magazine "will not be published again." Although short lived, I really enjoyed my time working with Stuart and am very proud to say I wrote for AW. In a field largely trapped in the 1990s (if not the 1950s), it was fresh, young and innovative, not afraid to seek new answers to old questions or even ask new ones. Perhaps the best evidence of this is the fact that Stuart was prepared to take a gamble and give new writers like me the chance to show what they can do. For those who don't know, I wrote a sci-fi/TV related column called Sci-Fi Worlds, my first piece was on Doctor Who and is available in issue 4 of Alien Worlds. Anyway, before I got the sad news about the magazine I had already written a second piece on Battlestar Galactica so I thought it might be a good idea to publish it here at BoA instead. Hopefully you'll find it thought provoking, even if you disagree with some of my views.

Unlike the new series of Doctor Who, the resurrected Battlestar Galactica is not a continuation of the classic story but rather a total re-imagining of it. Like its counterpart, the new series begins with 12 colonies of humanity getting savagely attacked and ruthlessly wiped out by the Cylons. A relentless and calculating race of war machines that appear hell-bent on the complete annihilation of all mankind. The Cylons' holocaust leaves only a handful of survivors. A ragtag fugitive fleet, 41, 402 people desperately trying to escape their cybernetic hunters and clinging to the hope of finding the legendary 13th colony called Earth.

But other than this shared back story, the two series have surprisingly very little in common. This is a good thing, because the original descended into little more than a childish action adventure, especially when compared to the more serious, adult drama and post 9/11 allegory which is the new series.

Perhaps the most interesting and, by far, the most disturbing parallel with 9/11, however, is how the survivors behave in the wake of the tragedy. Of course, just as in the wake of 9/11 in the real world, we witness incredible courage, as well as a stubborn determination to continue in the face of terrible adversity. But, we also sadly see how fear, fueled with a legitimate need for revenge, can bring out the worst in people, changing victims into criminals, the terrorized into terrorists, and moving society closer to the evil it is meant to be opposed.

Interestingly, the post-9/11 parallels are completely turned on their head in the third season. In the miniseries, as well as season one and two, the Cylons are clearly meant to represent Al Quada and fundamentalist Islam, whereas the humans clearly parallel America. However, in the shadow of the Anglo-American invasion and occupation of Iraq, these roles seem to have been somewhat reversed during season three. The bad guy Cylons become the invading westerners and the humans take the place of the Iraqi insurgency.

Much of season three takes place on what the colonials name "New Caprica": a cold, remote and hostile world that most humans decide to settle on after abandoning their vain search for Earth. However, they are eventually found and, strongly echoing real world events in Iraq, invaded and occupied by the Cylons one year later.

Moreover, strongly paralleling the Iraqi Police Service created in the immediate aftermath of the 2003 invasion, the Cylons establish the New Caprica Police: a group of human volunteers who work for the Cylon authority to establish law and order within the settlement. The NCP are considered nothing more than Cylon collaborators and traitors by the resistance who, again like their counterparts in Iraq, even go to the extremes of using suicide bombers in their campaign against the Cylons.

Another interesting parallel with Iraq, of course, is the role religion plays in the conflict on New Caprica. The Cylons worship what they call the "one true God," whereas the colonials have many different gods. This is perhaps a loud echo of the religious differences between a predominantly Christian America and Muslim Iraq.

It should be stressed that in earlier seasons the monotheist Cylons were obviously meant to conjure up images of Osama bin Laden and radical Islam. However, during their brutal occupation they more immediately brought to mind another band of dangerous religious fundamentalists... George Bush and the Christian Evangelical right that supported his mad crusade in the Middle East. Like the Cylons (or even bin Laden) they used God to justify their immoral war.

Similarly, many people sadly supported the 2003 invasion because they were beguiled into believing our troops were fighting to free Iraq from an evil dictator before he could develop weapons of mass destruction and threaten, paradoxically, international peace. Disastrously though much like the Cylons, far from peace all we've done is throw Iraq dangerously close to civil war and terrorized the Iraqi people.

Five years on from its relaunch, the writers of the re-imagined Galactica have to be congratulated. It would have been easy to write a more simplistic series with, like the original, everything presented in distinct black and white terms of good vs evil and no shades of grey. Instead, they created a highly compelling post 9/11 allegory, a mirror for our troubled times that shows the Terror Wars, warts and all. Hopefully, the rest of the series and the planed spin-off Caprica will be equally brave and thought provoking.

READ RICHARD THOMAS'S SCI-FI WORLDS COLUMN FOR BINNALL OF AMERICA

[howdon-aldi-death-queue]

Please can you tell you friend @theborders that it’s too late to delete posts and act like nothing happened. Alexa has seen them and is upset. I think she should apologise. I didn’t realise telling her would be so bad considering they were posted on a public website. How can you post stuff about someone on a public blog and expect them not to see? Also she probably told Sam about how she loved country just to be close to him

Okay, this is a late reply considering this was sent to me the other day, but I wasn't sure whether replying or not since I thought this would've simmered down. Well, I was wrong.

Things that drive me insane: a bullet point

• Faceless users on the internet exhorting strangers online to do something.

Going 28 and I usually don't take any advice from people who aren't in my personal bubble, but I'll make an exception today. So, I oblige. @theborders this anon is dying to let you know what they think 👉🏻🥺👈🏻

• Faceless users (omg! once again) not paying attention to the content of the different blogs they dive into.

I don't know if you're new here, but I have said many times that I'm not interested in it, therefore I have never posted any gossip, it's my policy. I don't give a flying sock about it. I don't know why you sent this to me, you would've spared this wordy rant from my behalf. We were talking about gossip, weren't we? Well I don't like it, but other people do and it's fine because it's life. Everyone's different, you know. A blog is like a house; every house has its own rules, same goes with blogs. Everyone's free to talk about whatever they please on their blog and I am nobody to tell people to apologise for things they've said about certain matters (I don't have an opinion about as I don't care about the matter per se). It's not my purpose on Tumblr. I am nobody's mother lmao

• People venting about something they've done and I have nothing to do with. Sorry, but you did tell Alexa and put theborders in a very bad mood and now you're gonna take the consequences that come with it. It's too late.

(For the record, I have just got the gist of what happened with Alexa considering I don't give a shit about gossip - yeah, I think it's good pointing it out every now and then to make it seep in order to avoid the wordy rant mentioned earlier. You say she's upset and I get it, but I mean she's a public figure and people on the internet talk about public figures, that's nothing new. Same thing for what you've said on chatting about what she did on a public blog. There's no difference. So... 🤷🏻‍♀️)

• People thinking they're the good ones for the purpose of """helping""" their peers, but they drag others down instead.

Can you imagine giving away to thousands of bystanders private information, like the place where someone lives just because you don't like what a person has said/done?! Mad stuff that. You doxxed her. I don't believe you realise what you've done. It gives unhinged vibes. You are eligible for a charge. Plus, you cyberbullied and harassed her by leaking her personal info online. I think the penalty for the guilt commited isn't quite right. There's a significant imbalance. We're only human after all, making mistakes is within our fallible nature. Your actions reek of arrogance. You can make mistakes as well, and sure enough you did so I am having words with you. No one is infallible and you're not a judge to decide what to do with people you think they did wrong in your eyes. Believe it or not, she didn't say anything that lousy to give away her info online. Stop being obsessed with this whole thing. We're trying to forget about it but you seem to be relentlessly devoted to drama.

• People hiding behind anonymous asks and not having the courage to come off anon to have a normal interaction with the person everything started with. Do you think that sending anons to every Sam Fender blog related on Tumblr is a clever move? Think twice before you do something.

One more thing before I go, are you trying to plant the seed of gossip on my blog with "Also she probably told Sam about how she loved country just to be close to him"? Anyway, I don't know what you're referring to as I don't know every detail of what happened AND I DON'T WANT TO KNOW.

[sillygoose04]

Today I built myself a cozy shelter and finally straw has arrived, so here I am now lying in it, thinking about my fate and waiting impatiently, like everyone else, for things to move on. Of course I am bulletproof here, because I am lying near the bar, about a kilometer behind the trenches, and only if I go forward for revision in position — at night in the rain through wet cornfields — , then a few stray bullets whizz around my ears.

Random hits, if you get one — if that! No, that is not honest — I don’t think like that at all — , I don’t like to be hit, at least not by chance, and I always bend down nicely when such a blessing rushes past; yes, in battle, one thinks not because the nerves are overloaded with other things enough, you do your duty, whether the bullet hits or not; but here: when I go about my post so lonely, then it comes over me: No, you don't want to, you mustn't die- live! You still have a whole life ahead of you, you wanted to start and you should already have to stop? Strong and healthy the soldier’s life has made me — a a little rougher, a little harder than before, but that's why I feel all the more alive; what is there not to achieve, accomplish and enjoy everything in the world.

I feel courage to venture out into the world, to struggle with storms, and in the crunch of the shipwreck not to be afraid!” And this feeling of strength and happiness, should it now become void?

I have wasted my life so far just sat on the school bench and learning good and stupid Learned stuff; learned again and again, accomplishing nothing, creating nothing, and now it should be over? Should the friends be right, who told me: “So enjoy the few more weeks that chance has given you, in all its superficialities, when near death denies the depths."

No, I feel it, I will still have something to do and say in life; it will be Frieda (peace?) and a new life for me, with young fresh strength, and exhausted senses, with obstacles and struggles and victories.

Is that bad, is it unpatriotic to think like that? Can the soldier not have a will to live? Maybe — I can’t help it — but the desire to live, and the courage to live are growing daily, I know the great life still too little to give it away carelessly; but contempt for death, heroism – I am ashamed to admit — these things could only happen to me in the intoxication of the exalted, stupefied senses, in the supreme excitement of a battle, otherwise — oh I thought so It was so easy for me to give up life, and I said in the beginning so carelessly about it — and now:

"O Queen, life is beautiful after all.”

Rudnicki, July 13, 1915 (on the eve of his death)

kriegsbriefe gefallener studenten 1918

[roseonthewindow]

Please do pardon the puffery at first

So I was looking for this animation to send the hubby but there isn't one of Carlo Taunting in any forum on here that I can see shame as the Algorithm is tattletaling on my hater quite extensively. Your likes are public you porn adduct, (two can play the name calling game here)and my genepool is ruining strong. I do not regret getting a teacher who was herassing a family member of mine fired for continuing to violate his personal space after being warned three times to STOP. Oh yes; update the School decided to terminate the teacher pending complaints FROM THE TRANS STUDENT WHEN SHE FOUD OUT. Turns out the trans MtF agreed that it would be horrendous to demand my male family member just ignore his own boundaries regarding respecting your romantic partners just to date them when they themselves never asked for it. Remember kids outside of family third party consent is not a thing that is ever valued in personal affairs.

Yet I digress, you aren't here for random drama dump updates are you people. And if you are than by all means Hatters are Viciously mocked here because I have no respect for anyone who can't respect simple boundaries or have the courage to trash you to your face.

Some of you are looking at this post like WTF why is this in tags...

This is in tag because I did get in touch with the Fic writer and to spite bad weather ch:1 IS public (Here) and I will be working on some character development things also this changes my plain slightly. The Genshin crossover character thing was a joke I was half serious about but now its like ohhh but what vision would she have if she had one? THAN A BRILLIANT idea hit me...

Why not let the fandom who has tolerated my ramblings to this point get a little say eh? Fell free your more than welcome; I only bite disrespectful coward haters who are hiding behind the block button and still calling me names like spoiled children. The fic writer is totally on board with this concept and so am I. Should I do some polls for you guys and let you help deepen the development of Isabella as a crossfandom? fell free to comment below I am giving you guys an opportunity to share your creativity tell me what you think. I also will be finalizing the linework for the new icons tonight colored version will have to come much later as I have quite a few mothers day commissions to get shipped out. As for my hater yes its childish to post this stuff that's why I am doing it; to make you look like that much more of a jerk for being psychotically obsessed with pushing me form a fandom you clearly never fit into. Your entire concept of the Lies of P fandom reeks of "Tell me you have not played the game without telling me you have not played the game." Sitting there boasting about a difficulty setting WTF are you talking about its a Soulslike there is no difficulty setting... Monty Pythons Holy Grail, You are Britain I am France take your dammed L.

[anotherdayforchaosfay]

you leaving those tags about how the thing literally called a “like” means people dont like your work and actually means someone is a bad person for not “bringing you more customers” was funny enough, but after seeing your shop its fucking hysterical

Wow, great misreading there. What I said is that it's an acknowledgement and bookmark. That's it. It's usually people new to tumblr who expect it to be like Twitter, where you see likes. You don't see that here because this is a blogging site, not social media. Likes are.unseen unless someone goes to your blog and you have likes available. Otherwise, it's a simple bookmark for someone to go back to. It's why so many newer accounts here have no posts and have likes available, and there are thousands of likes. Not a single reblog because they don't know how the site works.

Those who have been here awhile know likes are unseen. I've seen pinned posts where some folks mention they reblog nothing but their own stuff, or don't want to crowd their followers' dashboard with things, like artwork or writing. They will often make likes available to view, but only very rarely do people go in there. I don't have my likes available because they are bookmarks for me, posts I share with my husband because doesn't have a tumblr account. I reblog everything I like, and usually delete the likes after sharing them with him. Again, I reblog anything I like, or queue it for later.

Not once did I mention liking things makes someone a bad person. That's your spin on it. What I said is the likes are useless to artists and writers. Reblogging is how we share things here. It's the equivalent of word of mouth. It says "Hey, look, check the work out! This artists/writer made something I want to share so others can see it!" That's what we as artists and writers need, not a simple nod like someone passing you on the sidewalk. Reblogging someone waving flags and signs and bringing attention to something.

As for seeing my ship and being amused by what I said, I'm going to assume you're either impressed with the hundreds of hours invested in design and work, or you find my work unworthy of your attention and feel obligated to tear me down about it. For the latter, don't bother. I have five commissions I'm working on, bringing it to nearly a dozen commissions this year, and my shop is mostly bare due to people purchasing things last year. I've been too busy with commissions to work on making new inventory, so it just free digital downloads and a couple of quilt tops and table runners I made last year. Quite a bit of my inventory sold. Mocking the work is a waste of time best suited to admiring what's in the gallery section of my website. Now, it's hysterical due to the high quality of the work and the way you feel it speaks for itself about how beautiful each quilt is, thank you.

Now, why in the world did you feel it was necessary to come into my inbox and leave this message? No need to answer, just something to contemplate. You need not give word to every thought you have, nor do you need to inform everyone of your opinion. However, the next time you decide to be rude, find the courage to say it without hiding behind the mask of anonymous. If you think your words are important, say them with your whole chest and don't be a coward.

[keefwho]

July 24 - 2023 Monday

10:43 PM

Today I felt very bleh, like my head was empty. Might be due to the missed sleep the past couple days so I’ll be sure to get to bed on time tonight for real. 

For breakfast I had half a totino’s pizza, a pear cup, and a couple oreos. I spent my brief free time playing Neopets games. 

The stream went okay. My warmup kinda sucked because I’m trying to figure out a way to do sketches on my sketch sheet then finish those on a new canvas while still retaining the feeling that everything is real loose. For a little bit I was just finishing them as low res thumbnails on the sketch sheet itself but the point of the sheet is to be a collection of incomplete and experimental things. Having completed drawing in it does not sit right with me but taking a sketch and moving it to a new canvas makes it feel more important than it is. The point is to make a little doodle that turned out good enough to post, not a pre-planned successful kind of drawing. Im sure I’ll figure something out. I feel there is a lot I need to improve on with my process and how exactly I color including the actual brush settings. There will be lots of experimenting in my future. Also on stream we finally got to watch more episodes of Rugrats because we watched the movie that ties seasons together this weekend in Discord. We also watching Courage and I’m thinking we will watch 1 episode of each show a day. I only did half commission time today and spent a little more time finishing an emote commission I had. 

After stream I did my workout in it’s entirety despite how physically tired I felt. I really had to push through this one but that’s kind of the point isn’t it. I meant to clean up first but I forgot so I cleaned up after my shower. In the shower I was about to ask my friend straight up if I had permission to think about them while I took care of myself but I decided to do it to something else intentionally. I’ve briefly brought this up to them before. I think it’s given that sometimes we jerk off to each other without the other knowing. However I know how she feels about being sexualized and sometimes I can’t help but wonder if she would actually appreciate me thinking about her like that on my own time sometimes. It bothers me enough that I do think it would good to ask permission beforehand or have a brief discussion about it. This might be weird of me but I’m just listening to how I feel. I respect her tremendously and want to exercise expressing that. 

For lunch I was excited to make a hearty helping of Rice a Roni with lentils, meatballs, broccoli, green beans, and onions. It turned out okay as usual but I was hoping it came out better. It was still a solid meal. I invested more time into Neopets while it cooked. I’m enjoying some of the minigames. 

I feel I did a poor job on today’s request. The whole time I was thinking about how I want to make something I can be proud of but it just wasn’t coming together. It came out okayish but I wanted to do better. Next I spent an hour working on a TOTK pic of my otter and my friend’s sona. I mostly tidied up the sketch and then completely lined it, taking extra care to do a good job so thats why it took so long. After that work was officially over but I wanted to do more so I briefly setup the new horse avatar I got so I can start turning it into my most recent horse sona. 

I spent time in my friend’s server where there was a lot of negative talk about one of my other friends about his overly sexual behavior. I felt sort of bad because it was more or less shit talking them behind their back and I was just going along with it. Usually if I talk about him with others, its coming from a place of at least mild affection. Some of this was just mean though. 

Tonight I watched my friend give me a sort of rundown of the Neopets website and some of it’s history, I liked listening to her about it. I love hearing her be passionate about anything. After that we hopped on Pony Town for a tiny bit and looked at characters people made before checking out my little house and giving each other horse kisses. I started dinner while she headed up to bed and we chatted a bit. 

Today I wasn’t proud of much. Just the usual amount of proud for doing things to the best of my ability. I did well on my workout especially, and doing that little bit of extra avatar work. 

For some reason my self perspective was very lacking today. I kinda just wasn’t there, at least not in a great capacity. Looking back there were moments that would have benefitted me being more involved in the present. Spending time with anyone is a good example because it only becomes truly meaningful if I am offering my full attention and appreciation. Tomorrow will be another day to exercise my awareness and put it to good use.