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tatorthots · 1 year

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— get you

featured: college!Eren x afab!reader x college!Levi, Mikasa Ackerman, Sasha Braus, Louise (canon Yeagerist)

cw: modern!au, slight fluff if you really squint, suggestive content, minors dni, toxic dynamics, possessiveness, cursing

synopsis: the life of a college student is already hard enough as it is with classes, homework, and lectures so why not add a complicated love triangle as well?

a/n: this is a repost !! I’ve written this before but decided to go back and re-edit it :) to everyone who’s read this before I hope you all enjoy this improved version!

Eren fucking Yeager.

The college campus’ fuckboy and the literal bane of your existence.

Eren has been the thorn in your side since you were both assigned dorm mates at the beginning of your junior year of college. Sure, you’ve heard of the infamous name he set out for himself as the ruthless ‘Attack Titan’ in your school's football team, and you were fully aware of his cold and narcissistic personality but hey, who were you to judge a book by its reviews, right? So you made the mistake of ever being kind to him when you first introduced yourself only to be met by desolate green eyes and a scoff. Not to mention he had the audacity to give you ‘house rules’ which basically summarized to cleaning the dorm and staying out of his way. No, Eren almost never spared you small talk or even pretended to tolerate your mere existence. Why? Who fucking knows. Honestly, you firmly believed the brunette was born with a vendetta against you — every day striving and scheming to better his tactics in making your life miserable like some ripoff supervillain. But worst of all is the fact he seemed to make a habit of following you around campus like some lost puppy. You’d think someone who supposedly hates you would do anything to keep themselves away, right? Wrong. He thrived off bickering, insulting, and annoying you at any chance he got. Weirdly enough, no matter how many times you prayed someone would approach you to give you reason to ditch him, everyone always seemed to particularly steer clear from you when he was with you. Almost as if they were too afraid to even look your way, let alone talk to you. But I guess that could all be chalked up to Erens possessive behavior; his sinister stare and malicious intent were ever present anytime anyone dared get close to you. Not that you would know though, no, you were far too busy rolling your eyes and thinking of witty comebacks or insults. Unknowingly, making it easier to keep you all to himself.

Silly girl.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The echo of a blunt object clamoring to the floor abruptly stirred you from your peaceful slumber as the sound of it rolling on the hardwood floor rattled through the cramped dorm. Sitting up from your resting position you outwardly groaned as you rubbed the sleep off your eyes, “What the hell?” you sighed. Snatching your phone from its charging port you checked the time, squinting your eyes at the sudden brightness, “5:06 a.m?” Huffing in annoyance your jaw clenched as you glared at the door, already starting bright and early this morning huh you asshole, throwing your legs off the bed you groggily made your way out your bedroom door. Fuming at the fact you were forced to wake up so early after pulling an all-nighter studying last night; which, by the way, was already hard to do with Eren and his friends cluttering around the living room all night.

“What do you think you’re doi—“ your voice came to a complete halt when your eyes landed on an opened package and your recently delivered figurine displaced out of its box and lying on the floor. And to add insult to injury there stood Erens number one psycho of a fan, Louise. Giggling to herself as she kicked what would’ve been your most prized possession away from her. “What.. what are you doing…?” Your voice was barely above a whisper as your eyes remained focused on your figurine. The same figurine you excitedly pre-ordered a year ago. You couldn’t even afford to eat for a month afterward because of how much you spent on it and now there it was being kicked around by some desperate pest? So balling your hands into fists you marched over and shoved Louise aside to see the damage she had caused. But your anger only ignited when you saw your favorite character's weapon broken in half and their stand shattered to pieces. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You seethed as you bent down to sorrowfully try to connect the shattered pieces together. You were tired. So tired of this. Carefully tightening your hold on the broken pieces; you hated how you felt like you could cry from frustration. “Oops~” was all Louise bothered herself to say in response to her crime. Quietly, almost too calmly, you spoke, “… What did you just say?” “I said ‘oops’,” she cheekily replied, “besides, it’s not my fault you leave around boxes for anyone to touch.” Resting her hand on her hip she smirked down at you, “If you really cared so much about your little dolls then you shouldn’t have been so irresponsible~ heh, hope you learned your lesson.”

Standing up from your crouched position, you side-eyed Louise with a piercing, almost eerily, hyper-focused glare. This is it, you thought before clenching your fists and raising your arm, intent on actually beating her until your knuckles ached. But before you could swing, you felt a cautious grip on your wrist and a firm hold on your hip. Everything moved so fast, you didn’t even get to acknowledge the fingertips that slid up to the hem of your latex shorts before you found yourself spun and placed behind Eren. Staring up at him you blinked a few times. “Don’t get so heated.” He spat, with a disinterest in his tone almost mocking your apprehensive reaction, “She’s my guest.” He cocked his head at you with a sarcastic smile, and god did your eye twitch. It made your stomach churn and skin crawl knowing what he meant by that, and it… hurt. Shaking your thoughts, you swat his hands off of you, and scowled at the man towering over you, daring to defend the rat responsible for all of this. Dryly you scoffed, “She’s just another fuck-buddy you bring in here ren.” Crossing your arms together you continued your jeering, “You make a mess wherever you go and you even have the audacity to drag in trash? Tch. Please.” But, oh how naive you are to not notice. The glint of amusement reflecting off Erens emerald eyes just from the venom in your tone; it makes his dick twitch. He shifts a little uncomfortably trying to ease himself before exasperatedly sighing. “Well dove,” he begins as he starts to circle around you, “maybe if you weren’t such a self-righteous prude I wouldn’t have to bring girls in here…” stopping right in front of you he leaned down to reach eye-level, his taunting gaze only inches away from you as he lowly growled out, “I could just fuck you instead.”

Truth be told, Eren knew he was full of it — straight up lying through his teeth every time he told you he didn’t want you. In reality, the man was absolutely obsessed with you and anyone with eyes could see it, everyone except you. But unfortunately, Eren isn’t the type to admit his feelings so freely, let alone submit to his emotions. No, he was too prideful for that. Don’t be too harsh on him though, I mean, the idiot hasn’t even figured out himself what it is he feels for you. It could be part of the reason why he’s so particularly hostile with you, and why he’s equally possessive. Not to mention that Eren has been the object of many’s affection since he could remember; as in he’s never not had what he did or didn’t want. He learned early on that personality and sincerity isn’t anything more than currency in this world, and he abides by that principle. So to have someone like you, who’s breathtakingly mesmerizing, compassionate, intelligent, interesting, funny, and well, you, is completely left field for this playboy. You’re everything he thought wasn’t possible. You contradict his entire worldview of people. How could he not resent you — or fall for you all the same? He hates it.

However, as of now, all you know is that you’re fed up with this situation. Pushing past them to grab your keys and hoodie, you turned around and stormed through the front door. Did you know where you were going? Not a clue. But you sure as hell aren’t going to be anywhere near here. Anywhere near him. Walking out the door you heard Louise’s cackling laugh practically grating your ears and it only made your blood simmer further as you slammed the door behind you.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“I’ve told you to speak to the Dean and ask for another dorm mate,” sighing as she stirred her coffee with a spoon, her dark eyes flickered up at you, “I’m sure if you explain your situation to him he’ll be more likely to accept your proposal.” Anxiously combing your hair back, you groaned at your best friend's advice, “Mikasa don’t you think I’ve already tried that?” Dramatically throwing your arms on the diner's table, you buried your face in your arms, “The Dean only has a strict appointment-based schedule,” with a pout you lift your head up slightly, “and the waiting list spans for the next four months!” Tucking your head back to sulk, Mikasa hummed in acknowledgment, but that’s when your other friend spoke up. “Then why don’t you try talking to his assistant?” Snapping your head up, you stare questioningly at Sasha as she shoved another beignet in her mouth, “Yeah but —mmph — what’s his name again?” “Levi.” Mikasa chimed in, “Levi Ackerman.” Levi Ackerman..?, you thought, Why does that name sound so familiar? But you didn’t get long to think about it before Sasha excitedly shouted out, “Yes—! Levi!” Putting her fork down she rubbed her chin in contemplation, “Huh, I heard he’s kind of a total jerk though, and everyone who’s ever met up with him spirals into some sort of existential crisis…” Mikasa kicked Sasha from under the table as she nodded in your direction, “O-oh! But um.. I mean how bad could he be, right?” Trying to nervously wave off what she said, Sasha patted you on the head, “You’ll be fine, y/n!”

I’ll be fine? Groaning again, you leaned your cheek on your hand as you looked at the people chatting or studying at their tables. “Well, I guess I don’t have much of a choice..” which to an extent is true. You either continue to put up with Eren until you eventually get an appointment with the Dean, or you talk to Levi Ackerman and hope you don’t spiral. That name though…, you pondered, Why do I know it? Smearing around the egg yolk on your avocado toast you glanced up at your friends. “Hey, why does that Levi name sound so familiar? Do we know him or something?” “Yes and no.” Sasha answered, “You’ve heard his name before because he’s that super mysterious senior everyone’s afraid of.” “He’s been the leader of the Honors Society since he was a sophomore, and he’s top-ranking academically in the country.” Mikasa added. Thinking to yourself you finally remembered, “Oh! That’s right!” You triumphantly chirped until it dawned on you what you remembered. Noticing the dread in your eyes Sasha laughed, “Mhm, you definitely look like you remember now~” “He’s that academic thug…” sinking into your chair you genuinely began to wonder who you crossed in your past life to deserve this, I probably helped commit genocide or something…, “Yeah, he’s gotten into a few fights but it’s always settled within reason.” “Pft, c’mon Mikasa, the schools probably too scared to punish its most valuable student.” Sasha snorted. “Hm. You might have a point, but it’s usually ruffians who feel they have something to prove that challenge him,” Mikasa pointed out, “He also hangs around his small clique. I think, our seniors like Petra, Eld, Gunther, Olou, and Hange.” “See y/n! How bad could he be if he hangs out with them?” Sighing, you smiled at your two closest friends and their attempt at making you feel better. “Yeah, you guys are right,” finishing your latte, you beamed down at them, “I’m gonna kick today's ass!”

After the three of you waved your goodbyes, you set off to go find the very man you only hear of through quiet whispers. Honestly, with all the mystery shrouding him you really started to believe he was some sort of urban legend the school came up with. Kind of like ‘if you don’t do your homework, Levi Ackerman will show up in your closet’ type of thing, you know? With an exasperated sigh, you look down at your clothes. Great. I’m about to meet the guy who’s also known for his ocd in a jujutsu keisen hoodie, spandex shorts, and crocs.. Sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck, you stared up at the birds flying above you, I wish I could live freely like them… Longingly looking up, you snap out of your thoughts as you approached the administrative office. Well, I promised Sasha and Mikasa I’d do this so.. here I go. Stepping into the front office you began your unexpected hour-and-a-half-long journey being sent practically all across campus in search of this Levi guy. You went from office to office, met up with more people than you’ve probably spoken to in the last two weeks, and wasted time waiting around for people who ended up either not knowing where he is or sending you back across campus. Until finally you made it to the science research facility building where you tiredly dragged yourself toward the receptionist’s desk. “Please..” you heaved, “Please tell me… *gasp of air* tell me Levi Ackerman is in this building!” Your eyes pleaded at the poor, spooked old lady as she stared at you. “Oh honey, please have a seat!” She scurried next to you and guided you to sit down, “He’s tucked away in the computer lab right now, let me go notify him!” Grabbing her arm, you peered into her eyes, “He’s here?” “Y-yes!” Nervously laughing, she placed her hand on top of yours, “You know what? How about you come with me. He’ll most likely decline your visit if I notify him.” And with that, you made your final trudge with the old lady you managed to scare into personally leading you to Levi.

“Alrighty sweetheart, this is him.” Pointing toward a large door, the receptionist politely smiled at you before hurrying back to her desk and leaving you all alone. Glancing at the wooden door, you suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of anxiety. Okay… I um.. I made it this far, right? You tried to reassure yourself but the longer you stared at the door, the more your imagination ran rampant. What if he’s big and terrifying looking? You imagined a tall, ogre-looking man, Or what if he’s a total creep? Then some balding guy who resembled a mole. If ren were here I wouldn’t feel so intimid—huh? Ren? Shuddering at your thoughts, you took a deep inhale, Alright, clearly the longer I stand here the more I’m beginning to lose it, so with a little pep-talk you figured you might as well rip the bandaid. Twisting the handle, you carefully pushed open the door and peeked inside. The entire room was almost the size of an entire lecture hall but filled with neat rows of computers. Wow… you thought as you opened the door further to step inside. Looking around the room in amazement, you immediately stopped in your tracks when you noticed a figure sitting at the front of the room reading a textbook with notebooks and papers stacked on the table. That must be him. Clearing your throat you decided to call out to him, “Excuse me, I’m looking for Levi Ackerman,” slowly walking up to him you tried to fill in the silence, “I’m assuming that’s you, right?” Closing in on the table he sat at, you managed to make out a head of black hair and.. and him drinking tea? Quirking a brow at the full tea set he had displayed, you spoke up again, “My names y/n. I wanted to talk to you about an issue I have and I was told you cou—“ “Get lost.” H-huh..? Did I mishear him? “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you but I—“ “If you don’t intend to offend me then go bother somebody else. I’m busy.” His voice was deep and monotone, clearly uninterested in what you had to say by the way he didn’t even bother to acknowledge your presence.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you knitted your brows in irritation. Of course. Gritting your teeth, you strode right up to him and slammed your hand down on the desk, “You’re a tough guy to find, you know that?” You chuckled dryly, “Did you also know I spent the last two hours running around campus trying to find you? So no, I’m not leaving until you at least listen to what I have to say.” Setting his tea down, the raven-haired man finally turned to look at you, “Is that so?” He questioned, though it was clear the question was more rhetorical than genuine. With a long sigh, he swiveled his chair to completely face you; and then that’s when you flinched in surprise as you scanned him. He’s hot… you thought, Oh god, he’s hot..!? The man in question had inky black hair styled in an undercut, a complimentary choice when paired with his delicate yet sharp features. This definitely wasn’t what you expected. Even the dark circles under his eyes look good… A light blush began to creep up on your cheeks as you realized the commotion you just made in front of someone like him. All the while you stared in a flustered daze, Levi was languidly trailing his eyes across your body. Resting his head on his hand, he couldn’t deny he liked the sudden surprise presented to him. Huh.. he mused. “Well? What’s so damn important?” Straightening up at the sound of his voice, you smoothed out the wrinkles on your hoodie, “Oh! Yes, of course.. I’d like to propose a change of dorm mates.” Staring at him, the intensity in his eyes only worked to captivate you to him, “My… my roommate isn’t working out, and no matter what I try to do to civilize the situation it just doesn’t work out..” you ended, almost disappointingly. Levi hummed as he listened before standing up from his chair. “Is that what’s got you so worked up?” But something about his tone made you think he might’ve been referring to something else. “Why not go to the Dean?” He inquired as he slowly approached you, and you subconsciously took a few steps back until the back of your thighs hit a table behind you and you almost fell sitting on it. “The Dean has appointments booked all through the semester and since the matter is urgent I figured I’d reach out to his personal assistant.” The fact you managed to jumble that out without stuttering was a blessing in itself. “I see.” Narrowing his eyes on you he continued, “Then I guess I have no choice but to agree if it’s so urgent.” Blinking a few times you took a moment to process his words, Is he agreeing to help me? “Meet me later this evening to discuss the details,” his expression remained unchanged but you caught glimpse of the glimmer in his silver eyes as he stared at you, “I assume 7 works for you?” “7..?” You muttered, “Ah, yes, of course!” “Great. I’ll escort you then. Now if you’ll excuse me,” he closed in on your body and reached an arm past your waist, his lips inches away from your ear as he leaned in, “I have other matters to attend to.” Your body stiffened and your breath hitched until he pulled back with a notebook in his hand. He was.. just reaching for his notebook..? Nodding your head in agreement you politely excused yourself and raced out of the room with a bright blush searing your skin as he watched slightly amused at your disappearing figure.

After exiting the computer lab, you stood there for a few seconds in a flustered haze. What the hell just happened? Brushing your fingertips across your cheek you tried to ease away the warmth on them. Heh, I’ve gotta tell Sasha and Mikasa about this! You giddily thought as you whipped out your phone and started typing in the group chat. And after a morning of lectures and labs without your backpack, you finally made it back to your dorm. Heaving a sigh, you slung yourself on the couch and peeked your eye to where your broken figurine last lay. It’s gone… You figured Eren must’ve thrown it away along with the rest of the trash before leaving for his afternoon classes. Grabbing a pillow you covered your face and screamed into the fabric before sitting up and punching it a few times in frustration. “Fuck—!” You loudly groaned out. Why does he have to be that way? Scrunching your face, you massaged the bridge of your nose to calm down, He’s a dick to everyone, sure, but why does he target me so much? Even after… Throwing the pillow to the other side of the couch you hastily stood up and checked the time. Whatever, you bitterly thought, it’ll all be over soon enough. So you brushed off the thought and jumped in the shower to get ready for tonight’s occasion.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Rushing around your room, you turned your phone on to see 6:43 p.m. glaring at you. No, no, nononono—! Hissing in annoyance at your time management, you hurriedly slipped on a long, slit, silk skirt over your sheer tights. “Okay, alright, almooost done!” Grunting as you put on a pair of platform boots, you stood up and admired yourself in the mirror. “Heh,” you chuckled, “Elegant and fashionable with a touch of promiscuous.” After pulling a quick jojo pose in the mirror, you adjusted your open back top and strut through your bedroom door with an excited smile. But your smile immediately turned into a grimace when you caught sight of Eren and Louise lounging on the couch. Fucking bitch.. you internally sneered as you scrunched your nose in distaste. “Self-respect… and that goes for the both of them.” You mumbled under your breath. Forget it. Rummaging around the kitchen, you tried looking for your hand purse until an agitated voice called out to you.

“Shocked you’re not tryna run around empty-handed again since you had no problem with it this morning,” you could already see his irked frown, “and yeah I heard you’ve been taking a tour through campus by the way.” Roiling your eyes, you heard him shift as you clipped on your earrings, “I looked for you in the library to bring you your bag since apparently, you need everything done for y—“ widening his eyes, Erens jaw slacked as he eyed you. “…. fuck” he lowly muttered. He knew you were fine, he gets mesmerized by your beauty every day, but damn. Your leg peeking out of the silk fabric slit, and the way it’s tight fit complimented the curve of your ass was just too much for him. His mildew gaze trailed up to your open back top and he almost groaned at the slightest tease of side-boob. And just as he almost folded, he snapped out of it when he realized you were going out dressed like that. “Wait, where the fuck are you going?”

But Eren knew that wasn’t what he was really asking. No, what you wore never bothered him, in fact, he loved when you got all dolled up; let others look because he can fight — and he has, for you. What Eren was really asking was ‘Where the fuck are you going without me?’ ‘Who are you meeting?’ ‘Do you like them?’ ‘Would you forget me?’ Those were the real questions bouncing around in his head.

“Doesn’t matter.” Was all you replied, but the grip those two words had on him were like a vice. Leaning down to adjust your ankle bracelet, his eyes darted to the way your back subtly arched. He could already feel the tent growing in his pants, but he couldn’t be bothered to do something to hide it when all he could think about was how pretty you’d look stuffed full of him. He was desperate to touch you, feel you, claim you — just as desperate as he was to be owned by you, in every way, any way you’d allow him to be yours. Maybe you were just too dense for your own good. He tried his damndest to keep his composure as best as he could but his voice gave it away, “It’s a fucking date.” He snarled, low and threateningly. You glanced over at him, confused and infuriated at his audacity to interrogate you about where you were going or who you were meeting. “Doesn’t. Matter.” Both of you locked eyes as an intensity conflicted within his irises and a rage burned within yours. Scoffing, you turned on your heels, grabbed your purse, and walked toward the front door. Eren wanted to stand up and stop you, he wanted to do something anything but the pulsing ache in his pants kept him rooted to the couch. “Tell me who it is.” He demanded, and you finally reached your breaking point. Clenching your fists you turned your head and glared at Eren, “Hah. You’re really something, huh?” You condescendingly seethed, “You always bring in random girls in here almost every night and you have the fucking audacity to question me?” Reaching for the handle, you pushed open the door, “Don’t forget your place, Eren.” And his eyes widened at the use of his name, “And I won’t forget mine.” Slamming the door behind you, he felt his heart ache at the way your voice wavered when you said those last words. He wanted to argue, tell you that you’re wrong, that he’d do anything for you but he couldn’t. All he could do was stare at the door and lose himself in his thoughts.

Through the halls, you bitterly made your way outside the dormitory. Who the hell does he think he is? Roughly opening doors, you fumed, Acting like he owns me. Hah! If I didn’t know better I’d even think he cares about me. Bursting open the front doors of the dorm entrance you marched outside and hastily walked out of the dormitory district, What does he want from me? Seriously, I don’t understand him at all! You clutched your purse as you trembled with anger, He’s so confusing, ugh! He does things for me that make me feel special but then he… but then he acts like that! Like.. like Eren and I d— bumping into somebody, you stumbled back. Huh? Looking up you were surprised to see,

“Levi?”

“The hells wrong with you?” Steadying you with a hand around your arm, you didn’t realize he had grabbed you to keep you from falling, “Do you normally walk around like you’re ready to slice someone’s head off?” He asked, and you looked away in embarrassment, “.. sorry.” “Clearly whoever you’re so damn angry with should be the one apologizing,” letting go of your arm he sardonically added, “or it’s their funeral.” Covering your mouth, you laughed at his words, and his attention focused on the sound. Pretty.. he thought. Easing from your laughter, you looked up at him with a cheery smile, “Thank you for going out of your way to wait for me, I’m sorry I’m a little late.” “Yeah.. don’t-um..,” clearing his throat, Levi averted his gaze from yours, “Don’t worry about it.” Blinking at him, you stood admiring the way the luminescent streetlights illuminated his clear skin, “We should get going.” Interrupting your daze, you tilted your head in curiosity, Hm? Oh, that’s right, “Where are we going?” Checking his watch, his sharp eyes flickered up at you, “There’s a cafe I frequent often,” walking next to you, he placed his hand on the small of your back to guide you next to him and away from the street, “It’s a little hidden but they have a good atmosphere.” His gaze drifted to you and carefully took in the sight of you, “I hope it’s to your taste.” Glancing at him your eyes sparked with excitement, “A hidden cafe? I love checking out new coffee shops to study in! I’m looking forward to potentially adding another shop to my list!” Levi watched as you buzzed with enthusiasm. He was a little apprehensive about inviting you out to a small cafe, not knowing if it’d be something you’d enjoy, so to see you react so excitedly he sighed in relief. Seems this little venture might actually be worth its while. Unbeknownst to you, Levi did do a little background check on you through his student access — perk of being the Deans assistant — and he was pleasantly surprised to see all the achievements and participation activities you had under your belt. Most students don’t bother to do more than get through classes and do solely what’s asked of them as students. So his interest most definitely peaked when he quickly scanned through your transcript. Charming, fierce, intelligent, and beautiful. Lucky me.. he mused.

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#jay writes ! ⋆⁺₊⋆ ♡̷̷̷ ⋆⁺₊⋆#aot x reader #snk x reader #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yaeger x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #aot angst #aot fluff #aot smut #aot imagines #attack on Titan x reader

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hyperfixiation-station · 1 month

Text

Guilt-Tripped Pt.2

TW: Canon-typical violence Part 1 part 3 Pairing: Ghostxreader(ish) Summary: The mission does not go according to plan

Wc: 1758 A/N: The fights scenes are fast-paced/rushed intentionally, I was trying to give off the feel of combat, if it did not work please let me know and I'll fix it :)

You were off your game, that much was clear. Not only was this mission located in your mother country, but the base you were clearing was one you had been “trained” in. You were anxious, and you knew Ghost could tell. But, true to form, he did not pry. That was one of the reasons you liked him. Everyone else would have asked questions but Ghost didn’t. He respected your privacy, understood that not everything is meant to be shared.

“Ghost, how copy?”

“Solid. Moving in.”

“Copy.” You unsling your gun from your shoulder, following Ghost into the abandoned building. You cover his six as you clear the building, finger hovering over the trigger of your gun. The ghosts contained in the walls were dogging your footsteps, begging for you to turn and listen to them.

“Again”

“You’ll break them.”

“Only the weak.”

“No, please!”

“Do it again!”

“Do not defy me.”

“Again.”

“Y/N.” You snap back to attention, “Buildn’s clear.”

“Ay. Let’s look for the intel then.”

“It’ll go fas’er if we split up.”

“Ah…I guess.”

“Stay frosty.” With that Ghost heads up the stairs, leaving you to pray he doesn't find anything he’s not supposed to. You take a deep breath and turn away, searching the rooms more intently this time, on the lookout for files and a USB drive instead of hostiles.

The first room has nothing, just some rotting pieces of wood that used to be furniture. Still, something about it leaves you feeling deeply unsettled. You step out and head to the room across the hall, your hairs standing on end. The second room is basically the same, as are the third and fourth. And fifth. And sixth. After the final room reveals nothing, you head upstairs to help Ghost.

The stairs creak under the weight of you and your gear, the sound adding to the already eerie atmosphere. You grit your teeth, forcing yourself to walk through the hallways that haunt your nightmares.

Ghost is in the first room you come to, his face lit up by a computer that somehow is still working. Alarm bells ring in the back of your brain, but you ignore them, instead focusing on the video that is playing.

“Again.”

The video is grainy, but you know the scene well. 3 girls stand side by side, guns in hand.

“Again.”

They drop to the ground, legs swinging around before standing.

“Again.”

They fire simultaneously, one loud gunshot echoing through the room.

“Again.”

“Aga-

The video cuts out, but you still see what happened next.

“-in.” You are faster this time, the girls next to you running out of stamina. You had been at this for hours, a constant stream of crouch, stand, fire, reload. You drop into a crouch, sweep your legs around, and come up, you and the girl to your left firing at the same time. You don’t even flinch as the girl to your right is dragged away.

“Again.”

Crouch, stand, fire, reload.

“Again”

Crouch, stand, fire, reload.

“Again.”

Crouch, stand, fire, reload.

“Again.”

Crouch, stand, fire, reload. And once again, you are faster. The girl to your left is dragged away, leaving only you. Your palms are blistered and your knees are torn open, but you won.

“Y/n.” You stare at the target in front of you, breathing hard.

“Y/n!” You raise your head, searching for the woman in charge of your training. Except the voice calling for you is male, and…British?

“Y/n!” A hand touches your shoulder and you don’t think, just react. Your gun is buried between the persons ribs before your vision even clears.

“Fuck. Ghost I…fuck. I’m s-fuck.” You stagger back, blinking hard as you holster the weapon. Ghost has his own weapon trained on you, though his finger is not on the trigger.

“What in th’ bloody hell was that?” He hisses. You inhale, exhale, and shove your emotion down where they won’t bother you.

“I am sorry.” You say softly, “I zoned out and you…scared me.” He doesn’t say anything in response, just grunts and shakes his head, holstering his gun. You hold your breath as he stares at you with an indiscernible look in his eyes.

“We'll talk when we get t’ base.” He says finally. You nod, fingers trembling as you follow him into the next room. You hadn’t noticed when you were clearing it before but the rooms up here are much more preserved. This room is empty, save for a barre attached to the wall, the one way mirror above it shattered into a million pieces.

The girls dance in unison, repeating the moves over and over and over again. Your tutu makes your skin itch, and your toes are bleeding from the hours of non-stop practice. Still, you don’t complain. Even at seven years old, you know better than to voice your sorrows.

“Good y/n. Again.” Legs burning, feet aching, skin itching, you begin the routine again. You bring your leg up but your ankle rolls, your form wobbling.

“Oh y/n. I had such high hopes for you.” Your body is thrown across the room, stars dancing across your vision as the acrid smell of smoke fills your senses. Wait…smoke?

“Y/n!” You inhale sharply, looking up at Ghost. But he’s not there. In his place is an aging man with a road face and short beard.

“Dreykov.” He’s older, much older, but you would recognize him anywhere. You look around the room, trying to find any sign of Ghost. The simple movement sends waves of pain through your skull, makes your vision blurry. But you've operated in much worse condition before.

“Where’s Ghost?” Your voice sounds oh so far away.

“Hello to you too darling.” You shiver almost imperceptibly at his voice, “Why don’t you use that pretty little head of yours and tell me?” You can barely hear him over the high-pitched whine bouncing around your skull. Oh, right, your ears are ringing. Ringing, why are your ears ringing? You blink hard, taking in your surroundings. The room is filled with smoke, the remnants of the outer wall scattered across the room, the result of an explosion. Something sticky trickles down your face, dripping into your eyes as you put two-and-two together.

You and Ghost had walked into the room, you’d been violently thrown into a flashback, and while you were off in la-la land, Dreykov must have blown through the wall. But that still didn’t explain where Ghost was. You inhale slowly, trying to focus your vision. And-there! You spot a hole in the floor, and the only thing you can think is that Ghost fell through.

Later you’ll blame it your disoriented state for forgetting he was there, but really you just didn’t want to face Dreykov alone. You leave him in the room, leave him to escape with the intel you'd come to collect, and sprint down to the first level to find Ghost. You jump over fallen bits of ceiling, dodging debris as the building slowly falls apart around you.

Ghost is prone on the ground, a Widow prowling around his body. They always did like to play with their food.

Without thinking you launch into the fray, tackling the Widow over his back. It is a short but intense fight, serving as a distraction as Ghost forces himself up. It ends when she throws a sloppy punch towards your face. You grab her wrists, yanking her forward and sweeping her legs out from underneath her. She hits the ground at the same moment you unload your weapon into her chest.

“You always did think you were better than us.” You spin around as you reload, swaying slightly as your vision blurs again. Another widow, one you failed to notice, stands behind Ghost, a gun pressed at his head.

“I did not.” Your voice is calm and even, not betraying your inner distress as your eyes dart around the room as you try to find a way to get her away from him.

“Yes you did.” The widow snarls. She draws another weapon, slamming the butt of it into Ghost's skull with startling force, leaving him to collapse like a ragdoll.

“We were always second best, always the ones punished, always the ones in trouble. Nothing compared to you.” You begin to circle each other, your eyes trained on the gun she has aimed at you. The motion makes you sick, and you can’t hear anything over your focus on staying awake.

You blink, and suddenly the widow is in front of you. Just as she wraps her finger around the trigger Ghost, who'd be faking his apparent unconsciousness, tackles her. You can see how the scene will play out, and it doesn't end pretty.

You throw yourself at the Widow Just as she plants her gun in Ghosts chest, sending both of you flying across the room. She ends up on top you so you buck your hips, sending her flying forward. You're moving on pure instinct at this point, to dizzy to think.

You wrap you arm around hers and swing your leg over her side, using the momentum to flip positions so that you're on top. You draw your firearm, but are a millisecond too slow.

She flings you off, your skull bouncing of the pavement as you fall to the side. You manage to keep a grip on your weapon but God's does your head hurt.

You blink yourself back into awareness, coming too just in time to watch Ghost grapples with the Widow for he gun. Ghost may be good, but the Widow is great.

You are too dizzy too see straight, but that's no problem. The Institute had made sure you could shoot a target blindfolded, so you close your had around your 9 mil, raise it front of you, and fire.

You are awarded with a female cry of pain, a thud, and silence.

"You...solid?" You wheeze, gun still held tight in your hand.

"Aye. Y'...y' no' lookin' t' gud there." You can barely hear him, swaying slightly where you stand. Gods your head hurts.

You step forward, practically collapsing into Ghost. You can feel his heart beating rapidly, and you think he's talking to you, but you can’t hear him. Though blurry, your eyes are drawn to the Widow laying in a pool of blood, her brown hair pillowing her head.

It makes you sad, almost, to see someone who didn't get saved. Survivors guilt is what your court-therapist had called it. You thinks it was a load of bullshit but it's not like...is she moving?

You flip around Ghost without thinking, unloading your weapon on the Widow just as her bullet pierces your flesh.

tbc

Tell me what you think!!

@greatkittencloud

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5starl1ght · 18 days

Text

Nobody stays

Lando Norris x GN!reader

Summary: Nobody stays for ever" she screamed in anger "I'll be your 'nobody' then" he replied

Star: So basically I found this quote here on Tumblr so please check the person out. I hope you like it, and don't be a ghost reader! Have a nice day/night/morning 💞 Lots of love (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

Mesterlist

In the midst of a tempestuous exchange, emotions charged with raw intensity, Lando Norris found himself ensnared in a clash of wills with the person who ignited a flame within his heart. "Nobody stays forever!" they thundered, their voice a crescendo of anger and frustration that reverberated through the air like a thunderclap, each syllable a sharp dagger piercing the fragile veil of his emotions. In that moment, the weight of their words hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over the tumultuous landscape of their relationship, threatening to engulf them in its dark embrace.

For Lando, the declaration was like a blow to the chest, the force of it knocking the breath from his lungs as he grappled with the harsh reality of their situation. In a world where everything seemed transient and fleeting, where bonds were forged and broken with the whims of fate, the idea of permanence felt like an elusive dream, a mirage shimmering on the distant horizon. And yet, despite the overwhelming odds stacked against them, he refused to succumb to despair, his resolve unwavering in the face of adversity.

Summoning every ounce of courage within him, Lando met their gaze with a steely determination, his voice a low rumble that cut through the tension like a beacon of hope in the darkness. "I'll be your 'nobody' then," he declared, the words a whispered promise that hung in the air like a delicate thread, binding them together in a web of shared destiny. It was a declaration of defiance, a declaration of love, a declaration that echoed through the corridors of his heart with a resonance that defied explanation.

And as the echoes of their argument faded into the night, swallowed by the vast expanse of the universe, Lando knew that their journey was far from over. For in the crucible of their conflict, amidst the chaos and uncertainty of their emotions, they had forged a bond that was stronger than any storm, more enduring than any trial. And though the road ahead would be fraught with challenges and obstacles, he was determined to walk it with them by his side, their love a beacon of light guiding them through the darkest of nights.

#lando norris #lando x reader #lando norris x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 x you #formula one x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norizz #angst #angst with a happy ending

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definitelynotstable · 9 months

Text

Feverish [Ghost x fem!Reader]

AN: Hey sexies! I haven’t used Tumblr since I was like 13 (which was a while ago) and I haven’t written fanfic in a while either. I find it hard to like things without them consuming me and the current addiction is CoD. It started with CoD mobile - me and the flatties play each night and then I rediscovered Modern Warfare and realised MW2 existed. Instantly obsessed. Why are they all so fine???????? Anyway. I haven’t written creatively since like high-school so I’m rusty and there is lots I don’t know. Go easy on me babes x

Synopsis: "Holy shit, you're burning up!" – reader is sick, Ghost is worried. Word count: 1.7k Ghost x reader (callsign “Rags” don’t ask why) not proof-read i have adhd babes x

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

5am just wasn’t the ideal wake-up time. Something you should’ve thought about before joining the military. Something you definitely should’ve taken into account when accepting a position in such an esteemed taskforce. The 141 rarely took breaks. When you weren’t on active duty you were at base training. Price was a stern but fair Captain. His drills were consistent and hard, pushing you all to your limits but still allowing you to grow as a team.

But Price wasn’t in charge of training today. Nor had he been for the last week. Away on some need-to-know mission he had left his lieutenant in charge. Simon “Ghost” Riley. Less consistent, far more stern but just as fair as the Captain - Ghost’s drills were significantly more difficult.

You stretched carefully, rotating your neck from side to side and sighing as it clicked. You could hear voices down the hall and the distant rumble of the kettle. Soap and Gaz no doubt. Now fully dressed you pulled on your boots and shuffled down the hall.

“Morning boys.” You yawned, pulling out a chair and slumping to lean against your crossed arms on the table.

“Morning, Rags,” Gaz echoed back to you, Soap grunting in acknowledgment as he poured his coffee.

“Any clue what the LT has in store for us today?” You ask, watching as Soap fiddled with the french-press.

He huffed as he settled into the chair across from you, nursing a mug between his scarred hands. “Somethin’ horrid, nae doubt, he’s been in a bad mood since Price took his leave.”

“I’ll say,” Gaz scoffed tipping the dregs from Soap’s press into his mug and heaping in sugar, “can barely feel my arms after yesterdays drill.”

You groaned rubbing your eyes, “yeah, I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

“I don’t recall there being any trucks involved in the drill yesterday - but that can be arranged.”

The bored voice drawled from the doorway, Lieutenant Ghost himself stood, legs shoulder width apart, arms folded across his broad chest. The man took up the entire goddamned doorframe.

Resisting the urge to stand at attention you cracked a sheepish smile. The 141 weren’t one for formalities.

‘Morning LT,” Gaz took the words out of your mouth from where he leaned against the sink, “got more pain in store for us today?”

“If you though yesterday was painful, sergeant, you’ve got a big storm coming.” Ghost turned go head out. “Gym in 10.”

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

He wasn’t kidding. Today was worse. The lieutenant had designed a circuit so difficult even Gaz was complaining - something usually only Soap had the gall to do. God you were tired. You hadn’t struggled this hard to complete a drill since basic training as an unfit and unmotivated 18 year old. “Pick it up Sergeant!” Ghost barked from across the room as the battle ropes slipped form your sweaty hands. You grit your teeth and did as asked, only two minutes to go.

“Fuck!” You swore under your breath as the rope thunked against the floor, leaving your grasp again. You quickly squatted to pick it up, hoping the Lieutenant hadn’t noticed. You flinched as his stern voice echoed through the gym but it was Soap on the receiving end, the man smirking as Ghost yelled at him to keep form.

You turned your focus back to the ropes, planting your more firmly as you noticed your form starting to waver. God you felt like you were about the keel over.

“Pick up the pace Sergeant!” The voice came from your left, flinching to hear the Lieutenant so close. Feeling worse by the second you did as you were told, pushing every last inch of energy into the ropes in front of you.

He’ll be gone soon, you told yourself, He’ll move on to yell at Gaz and I can slow my pace.

But the hulking figure in your periphery remained and you found your resolve wavering. Without warning the world tilted dramatically and your cheek was bouncing off the sweat covered foam on the floor. The distant clanking of weights came to a stop and impeccably polished and shined boots filled your vision. Ghost.

“Rags!” Gaz thumped to his knees beside you, yanking you into a sitting position. His worried face swimming in your vision.

“Settle down, Gaz,” Soap spoke as he pulled him back and someone else came to kneel in front of you. A water bottle was pushed into your hands and a cool but rough hand landed gently on your forehead.

“Christ you’re burning up!” The lieutenant rarely swore outside of the field, you must be on fire.

“Yeah no shit,” Water dribbled down your chin as you took a swig of water, “that was a tough drill LT.”

Soap coughed out a laugh from where he stood behind Ghost, "Aye, I reckon he's sayin' ye've got a fever, lass.”

You scoffed, batting back the lieutenants hand, “I think I would know if I had a fever, I just need a rest.”

“Your dripping in sweat,” Ghost retorted cooly.

“We were just working out.“

“You fell over -“

-“It happens-“

‘Not to you.” The lieutenants voice was firm. “Not to us. We are special forces military - we don’t just ‘fall over’.”

There was no room for argument in his tone, you knew he was right. Leaning forward, Ghost looped his arms under yours and pulled you firmly to your feet. You wavered slightly, his grip on you the only thing keeping you standing.

“You need rest.”

Gaz popped into view, eager, “I can take her back too her room, LT!”

Ghost swung his gaze over the young sergeant who shrank back immediately, “if you thought this was the end of training for today, you’re wrong. You and Soap still have a minute left. I want you halfway through the next set once I’m back.”

Laughing Soap clapped Gaz on the back, “Come on lad. Let the LT look after Rags, we don’t give up so easily.”

You scoff, “Rude.”

“Get well soon, Lass,” Soap winked, pulling Gaz back to his station as Ghost led you out of the gym.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

“You really don’t need to lead me to back to my room, I know the way.”

“We aren’t going to your room,” Ghost grunted, his hand hovering behind your shoulder blades as you wavered.

You looked up, frowning as you locked eyes with him. “I don’t need to go to the infirmary, LT. I just need a nap.”

The man shrugged, gently pushing you forward. “We have free healthcare, may as well use it.”

“God you’re relentless,” you muttered, missing how his eyes crinkled through the mask.

“To a fault, sergeant.”

The nurse in the infirmary whistled as she read your temp.

“Good thing you brought her here, Lieutenant,” she turned to you with her hands on her hips, ‘you’re dehydrated, hun. I’m keeping you here overnight or until your fever breaks.”

“Really? I can never sleep in here, it’s too bright.” You felt like a child under the stern stares of the nurse and Ghost who stood beside her, arms crossed.

“We can dim the lights if you’d like, sergeant,” the nurse offered, bustling around while she prepped an IV, “but you’re staying here until I say.”

You sank lower in the bed, letting your chin fall against your chest.

“I usually sleep with an eye-mask.” You mumble, embarrassed.

“What was that, hun?”

Ghost steps closer with a single nod, “speak up sergeant.”

You cleared your throat, feeling silly. “I usually wear an eye-mask.”

“I’m sure we can figure something out,” the nurse smiled, pulling your arm to the side, “small pinch.”

You sucked in a breath as the needle slid home.

“Where is it?”

You looked up, surprised the lieutenant was still there. “Where’s what?”

“Your eye mask.” Ghost responded, arms still crossed.

“Oh,” you wince slightly as the nurse hooked up the fluids to the port on your arm, “uh don’t worry about it LT, one of the boys can grab it later I’m sure.”

“I’m here now. Where is it?”

You met his eyes, surprised. “My room, either on my bedside table or in the top drawer.”

Ghost leaves with a curt nod, the curtain swishing behind him. You sigh, leaning back into the pillow behind you, praying it’s lying on top and not in the drawer that holds a variety of items you definitely don’t want your Lieutenant seeing.

By the time he returns you’re half asleep in your fever-induced delirium. The lights are dimmed but your eyes still burn. He gently lays the mask on the bed next to your arm and makes to leave.

“Thanks LT.” You say with a rasp, cracking your eyes open further.

He looks up, blue eyes meeting yours. “Though you were asleep.”

You laugh softly, “Wasn’t kidding when I said I couldn’t sleep without it.”

“Mm.” He grunts in acknowledgement. “Lieutenant?”

“Yeah?” He stops, hand on the door handle.

“Thanks for today.”

He nods sharply, not sure how to respond. “Thank me when your back in fighting shape, sergeant."

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Masterlist

#simon ghost riley #call of duty #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #fluff #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #task force 141 #141 x reader #cod mw2 #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you

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soullumii · 1 year

Text

carnival lights | joel miller x f!reader

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

summary: you take joel to the yearly summer carnival.

warnings/tags: pure fluff, little bit of sexual humor, fake gun use! (water guns), carnival fun, no outbreak!joel, soft!joel, modern au, food, implied age gap (reader is in her 20s, joel is in his 40s), pet names (peach, darlin', sweetheart, baby), established relationship. (can be read as part of the stranded universe!), NO USE OF Y/N

word count: 3.5k

a/n: something cute while i work on stranded part 2. there's no plot, just vibes

taglist: @hecatombix @thatmemechick @sexygaypalpatine

“I can’t believe you dragged me out to this mess,” Joel grumbles.

Warm summer air settles over the both of you as screams from excited kids and terrified people on rollercoasters echo around you in the night. Joel’s scowl is illuminated by flashing lights from various pop-up mirror mazes, haphazardly put together ferris wheels, and scandalously painted funhouses.

Seriously, though, why does the children’s funhouse have a mural of a Parisian can-can dancer plastered on the front of it, her fish-netted vagina visible from quite literally any angle within this carnival?

It’s so incredibly ridiculous, and you absolutely love it. You just love carnivals—always have.

Even if they’re probably a safety hazard, even if the creepy clowns wandering about scared you a lot as a kid, and even if the sweet aroma of funnel cakes and fried Oreos and cotton candy mixes with the skunky smell of cheap weed. It brings back memories. And yeah, it might give you a headache after a few minutes, but it’s everything you adore, even if you’re in your late twenties now.

“It’s fun, Joel. Have you ever heard of fun?” You tease, dragging him along the dirt path littered with cigarette butts and mystery liquids. You get a whiff of hot dog.

Joel must get it too, because his nose scrunches and he steps aside a dubious pile of something inscrutable. “My definition of fun ain’t exactly this.”

“Look! That looks fun!” You point excitedly toward a ride called “The Zipper” rising high in the sky, its metal capsules filled with adrenaline junkies swinging back and forth as the entire ride spins on an axis.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel swears under his breath.

“What? Don’t you want to ride it?”

When you glance over at him, he’s looking particularly green, though you can’t exactly tell if that’s from the spinning cups next to you flashing green and white or if he’s truly feeling unwell.

“Are you okay?” You ask, sincerity coating your words as you turn to him.

“I’m fine,” he shakes his head. “I just—you should’ve taken Ellie and Sarah with you. I’m not any fun at these kinds of things.”

“Joel…” you say, a teasing smile growing as your hand lands on his arm. “Are you scared?”

He scowls, but hesitates in his answer, gaze darting away from you. “No.”

Liar. “Joel, it's okay if you’re scared,” you say. “We don’t have to ride any rides. I wanted to come with you just to spend time with you.”

His gaze softens and he sighs. “I know, peach. I wanna spend time with you, too. And for the record, I’m not scared, I’m just concerned about… my back.”

“Riiight,” you smirk. “Let’s go find something to do that won’t hurt your back then.”

You find a funnel cake stand charging $15 per cake. Joel grumbles about how ridiculous, and frankly, illegal it is that they’re charging so much for what is basically a scribble of fried dough as he pulls out his wallet.

“It's about the culture of it all, Joel,” you declare as you take a bite of doughy and powdered sugar goodness. “It’s just what carnival goers do. It’s only once a year, they can make the sacrifice.” You tear off a piece of it and give it to him.

“I guess seein’ Sarah smile after eatin’ fried oreos was worth it," he relents as he takes the cake and plops it into his mouth, humming gratefully and yes! you’re starting to wear him down!

“Exactly.”

After you both finish your funnel cake among a screaming swath of kids, you drag him toward the farm animals. This, he has to like.

You enter into the tent, Joel’s hand tucked in yours, and the smell of manure and dirt immediately choke the both of you, the scent trapped in by the heat and the plastic material of the tarp. Joel somehow seems to look even worse than he did when you mentioned the Zipper.

“These poor animals,” he whispers, eyes wide as he takes in the fences sectioning off llamas and sheep and highland cattle. “They should be out wanderin’ in a field.”

“They do, Joel,” you insist, squeezing his hand. “It’s just for tonight. Come on, let’s go pet one.”

After a snot-nosed child stumbles away from the sheep pen, Joel makes his way over. He frowns down at them, reaching a hand in through the fence to pet them. The sheep inch forward, pressing their wet noses into his palm, and he strokes their soft wool lovingly. Your heart flutters at the sight.

And then you hear him whispering to them: “I’ll get you out of here.”

Before Joel can do something drastic, like wrench open the fence on pure strength alone (which you know he is absolutely capable of), you drag him out of the tent. Your spirits are extinguished, the night feeling more and more like a failure. You have to get him to have fun, somehow.

“Those poor animals,” he says again, shakes his head as you draw him toward the game booths.

“They’ll be okay, Joel,” you reassure gently, rubbing his shoulder blades.

He just shakes his head again, and your heart fractures. You plaster on a smile and set him in front of a booth with two plastic water guns tethered to a ledge, at the far end of the booth are targets bobbing up and down, moving along a track.

“Let’s play this!” You say, handing the teenage booth manager a dollar bill. He chews his gum apathetically, and pulls the lever to start up the game.

This piques Joel’s interest and he watches you grab the pistol-shaped water gun, aiming it at a target, your eye winking as you train your gaze on a target.

“No, no, I can’t let you shoot like that,” he says, grabbing the pistol. He maneuvers your hands, “Left squeezes on the right, darlin’.” He then adjusts your arms and tries to grab the pistol from you, but it's sturdy in your new grasp, not going anywhere.

“There,” he says, proud, and grabs the other gun, pointing it at the first target. “Good luck, peach. You're gonna need it.”

“We’ll see about that,” you tease. You have no idea what you’re getting into.

“Start,” the booth manager monotonously drawls.

Before you can even pull the trigger, three of Joel’s targets are down, and he is cackling as he obliterates the others on his side. Your jaw drops, eyes widening.

Because, what the hell?

You scramble to catch up, pressing the trigger rapidly at your own targets, but only a few hits land. By the time the bored teenager calls ‘game’, Joel’s got his arms over his chest, watching you with a satisfied smile as you try in vain to shoot the last three targets on your side.

You turn to him in shock, but your bones feel light, your pulse beating rapidly because at least he’s finally having fun. And, admittedly, his skill is attractive.

“You should see your face right now,” he laughs.

“You won this,” the teenager drones, holding out a big fluffy teddy bear, half the size of Joel.

“I’m keepin’ this,” Joel says, grabbing the bear and holding it close. He looks ridiculous, holding that giant teddy bear in his corded arms, peppered locks falling over his forehead. Ridiculously handsome. Ridiculously cute. You've got to keep this going.

“What? Seriously? You’re not going to give your girlfriend the bear you won?” You pout. He just smiles wider.

“Darlin’, you’ve gotta earn this. Your shootin’ was pathetic.” He grabs another dollar from his wallet and hands it to the red-headed teen. “Another one, kid.”

Instead of grabbing his own pistol when the game starts up again, Joel comes in close around your back, warm chest pressing against your shoulder blades as his hands skim down your arms. He lays a chaste kiss on the side of your throat and your heart beats rapidly like a bird’s, warmth settling within you, a flush dusting your cheeks at his proximity.

His broad palms land on yours, and he adjusts your hold again like he did last time. “This was good. Your aim, on the other hand…”

“I’ve never shot a fucking gun before, Joel,” you defend.

“This is a water gun, peach.” You grumble as he drags your arms up, sets them in a position that is honestly not very comfortable, but you can see how it might be easier for aiming.

“Aim that ‘lil notch at the top of the gun in the middle of your target.” You follow his instruction dutifully. “Good, now shoot.”

It’s all in good fun, the gun light and cheap in your hand, but you treat it as if you truly are about to shoot a real gun, if only because your competitive nature likes to take over. You take a deep breath and let it out, then pull the trigger. The target goes down swiftly.

Joel pulls back, grinning down at you. “Nice job, peach.”

You preen at his praise.

“Alright, now hit the next one.”

You do just that. He holds his hand up for a high five and you slam your palm onto his, laughing giddily. "I'm so fucking good at this!"

He hisses, shaking his stinging hand out, “Why do you always high five so hard?”

“The game’s almost done,” the teenager warns.

You turn and deflate at the sight of ten targets still standing, confidence leaving your body in one fell swoop. You have about twenty seconds to shoot the last targets, and you wilt, knowing that’s absolutely not going to happen. You gaze sadly at the stuffed whale hanging from the awning.

Joel, noticing your disappointment, grabs his own pistol and fires off at his targets, each painted bullseye flinging back as the water hits it, the targets dropping one by one in quick succession. Even the moving ones he finds easily, spraying them with firm focus, eyebrows furrowed over his hard eyes.

He finishes with five seconds to spare, and a smirk on his lips. He makes a show to pretend to blow smoke away from the water gun’s barrel, and you can't help but laugh. You never see him this goofy, and it makes your body tingle with happiness.

The booth manager rolls his eyes and gets the whale down, handing it to Joel. You give him the biggest puppy eyes you can manage, lips puckered in a pout, and you can see the moment it hits him right in the heart, his smile growing soft, the way he looks away from you, turning to try and hide it. But he can’t, and you tremble at the sight feeling so full, so warm.

“Come on, Joel. I’m never going to be as good as you–which by the way, where the fuck did you learn to do that?” You say, grabbing the tail of the whale and tugging.

"Growin' up on a farm, darlin'. Tommy was always wantin' to shoot the ducks."

"Ah, so you're a master at duck hunting, huh?"

He shrugs. "You could say that."

He tugs the whale away from your grasp, gesturing to the booth. "Alright, one more game. Come on baby, you can do it."

You groan, and he hands another dollar over. The kid looks even more bored. Maybe even annoyed at this point. You don't blame him. You grab the pistol, and get to shooting, not without spraying some water at Joel first. He doesn’t even flinch.

Five targets later (you never could get the full ten), you're whooping and hollering as the kid hands you a fluffy monkey plushie.

"There we go!" Joel praises. “Nice goin’ peach!”

You do a little happy dance, not caring if you look ridiculous, and Joel tucks you into his side, throwing another dollar bill at the apathetic teen.

“For your patience,” he says. You giggle loudly into your palm.

“I don’t get paid enough to be here,” the kid mumbles as Joel tugs you away and back through the carnival.

You look up at him, taking in his carefree expression, the content smile on his face, and the way the lights flash off his eyes, making them sparkle. His strong arm is wrapped around your waist, your cheek pressed into his shoulder.

“Finally having fun?”

He looks down at you, eyebrow quirking. “What’d’ya mean? I’ve been havin’ fun this whole time.”

You stop, pulling back to really look at him, blinking in disbelief. “What? But you’ve seemed so… upset. The rollercoasters, the funnel cake...the animals."

Joel’s smile slips, and a clear sincerity takes hold in his eyes. “Darlin’ none of that matters to me. Just bein’ with you is enough to make anythin’ fun.”

“Oh,” is all you can say, nerves thrumming, mind racing.

“I’m sorry I made you feel otherwise, I'm not very good with emotions," he says, threading his fingers with yours, and your heart stutters. You knew that. He’s always been a closed book, and even if he does decide to be more open, it can be hard to truly decipher how he feels. Though he’s always quick to assure you that you mean everything to him.

“I’ll ride a damn rollercoaster with you anytime if you really want me to.”

This is why you love him so damn much.

You beam, though it turns teasing, “Thanks, Joel, but I don’t want to hurt you.” You poke his lower back.

Joel chuckles. “My back is fine. I’m just scared.”

“Oh really? Finally admitting it, Miller?“

"You know I struggle with admitting my flaws, darlin'."

"Right, because you hardly have any."

"Exactly."

"Well, anyway, I have an idea."

"Do ya now?”

You drag him toward the giant ferris wheel stretching high into the sky, the neon lights climbing its spokes flashing excitedly, drawing the carnival goers in.

You settle in a seat with Joel next to you, though because of the long line, you're forced to be seated with another couple across the way. An older couple, with matching t-shirts and candy necklaces.

"Hey there!" The woman chirps. "What a lovely night, ain't it?"

Joel nods awkwardly, "Sure is."

"It's beautiful," you add.

It truly is, a gentle breeze stirs the warm air, driving away mosquitos and the Texan humidity. The navy sky is clear, only a few fluffy clouds sprinkled about. You’d spend the entire night out here if you could.

"I'm Sharon, my husband Burt and I have been comin' to this carnival for the past fifty years," she says, gesturing to the man in overalls beside her.

"That's amazing," you say honestly. "I’d like to have a tradition like that, too.”

You tell her your and Joel’s names, ignoring the latter’s pleading glance at you by smiling at Sharon and Burt and complimenting their matching shirts.

Burt's says: Nothing Sense We're and hers says: Makes When Apart.

You despise the shirts deeply, but you might as well be friendly to the people you'll be stuck with for the next fifteen minutes.

"Thanks darlin'! Are you two a couple?"

You take Joel's hand, "Yep! Finally reeled this slippery fish in."

"Jesus Christ," Joel grumbles under his breath. You try not to laugh.

"Older men, so evasive, am I right?" Sharon whispers, a hand coming up to shield her mouth from her husband, as if he can't hear her in this tiny space.

"I hear you, sister.”

Joel rubs his thumb and forefinger against his temple.

"Well, enjoy your ride," she beams. "Just beware, my hubby gets gassy when we get halfway up."

You choke on a shocked laugh, your palm slapping over your lips. You lean into Joel, eyes wide, who looks green once again.

"Oh my god," you hiss to him.

"Now look what you've done. We're 'bout to get chloroformed by farts."

You can’t hide your laugh this time, “Joel!"

The ferris wheel jerks, and Joel's hand tightens around yours as it begins to ascend. You notice the tick in his jaw, the way his gaze pointedly darts from the spokes of the wheel to the pole in the center of the seat and back.

"Are you scared of ferris wheels too?" You ask.

"No," he hisses. "I'm scared of state carnival ferris wheels. They set this piece of shit up in three days. How can you even trust it?"

"I just like to think about possible ways I'd survive it."

"Yeah, like what? Grabbing onto the pole and just hanging there 'til they get ya?"

"Exactly, see, it'll be fine."

"That's if the whole thing doesn't detach."

"I think it's more likely we'll die from suffocating by old man farts than this thing detaching."

That gets a laugh out of Joel, and his gaze finally finds the land stretching out beneath you as the ferris wheel rises. The moon hangs high above the clouds, bright and full, and stars dot the dark sky like jewels sewn on a blanket. The breeze ruffles his hair, and you wish to run your hands through it.

"This is nice," he says. "I'm glad I came out here with you."

"You didn't have much of a choice, but I'm glad you're enjoying it."

You hear the man across from you pass gas, and you hide a grimace.

Joel leans in to whisper in your ear, his breath ghosting over your sensitive skin making you shiver. "This would be pretty romantic if it weren't for Mr. and Mrs. Clause over there."

"Watch it, you'll be approaching that age soon."

"I've got at least twenty years, peach. Maybe you'll be sick of me by then."

"Oh no," you shake your head, looking earnestly into his eyes. "I'll gratefully smell your farts 'til the end, Joel."

"You're messed up," he grimaces.

You just smile at him, and he grins back, his arm slung over the back of the seat, his thumb massaging your neck, and you melt into him, content to watch the world shrink as you near the top.

Eventually the ferris wheel comes to a stop at the top, and you gaze out across the dark world, head resting on Joel's shoulder. He pulls you in close.

"It's time for the kiss!" Sharon exclaims, grabbing Burt's fraying overalls and tugging him in to plant a kiss right on his lips. He melts right into her, and in mere seconds, you and Joel are witness to a geriatric couple making out.

"Ain't this somethin'," Joel says.

"Oh. My. God."

Sharon pulls back after a good thirty seconds, and turns to you and Joel. "Alright! Your turn!"

"Oh no, that's okay," you say, waving your hand. Joel is private in his affections, though his little show at the target booth earlier might say otherwise. Generally, he prefers keeping you to himself.

But tonight, he's full of surprises.

"C'mon, peach. Let's do it. Let’s give these kind folks a show, like they did for us."

"Yes! He gets it!" Sharon bounces excitedly. "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"

You've been wanting to kiss him all night, so you're really not against it. Though, it's still weird, and you give Joel a pained look.

"I'll give you the whale for this," he promises.

"And the bear," you argue.

"Fine. And the bear."

You grin, and then his hand is at the back of your neck, pulling you in, his nose brushing your cheek as he slots your lips together. He tastes like funnel cake and cotton candy and you honestly don't want this night to end.

Your eyes flutter shut as he adjusts you to deepen the kiss, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip. Your hands plant on his chest, nails digging into the fabric stretching over his firm pecs.

"Woo! Yeah! Kiss her hard! Kiss her really good.”

Your lip is still caught between his teeth when Joel slowly pulls away, eyes trained angrily on Sharon and Burt. He clears his throat as leans back in his seat, and you avoid eye contact with the very strange couple across from you. Joel's hand is hot on your exposed thigh, and now you really wish you weren't fifty feet in the air stuck with some very questionable folks.

Finally, five minutes later you touch the ground again.

"Y'all have fun now!" Sharon squeaks and steers Burt toward the cowboy-themed carousel.

"Have a good night you two," Joel says, faintly as they beeline away from you, almost like you were the weird ones.

He hands you the whale but holds the bear for you as you make your way back to Joel's pickup.

"Well, that was something," you say.

"I don't think I'll get that image out of my head. Or the smell," Joel's nose scrunches.

You stop, turning toward him. "I'm sorry about this. I thought it would be fun. We'd play games and share a romantic kiss on the ferris wheel and feed the animals-"

The words fade as Joel's palm settles on your cheek, his thumb running across your bottom lip, his other hand landing on your waist. "Darlin', we did all of that."

"Yeah, but it all sucked. I can't shoot for shit. And you don't like the animals being all cooped up, and then Sharon and Burt practically eating each other in front of us, then getting turned on by our kissing? You don't think I saw Burt's hard-on?"

His eyes widen in disgusted shock. "His what?"

Your eyes well up. "I’m sorry, Joel."

He shakes his head, pulling you into his chest. "Peach, I had a great time. I love doing whatever you love. I love you, okay? So next year, you can drag me out here again and we can be Sharon and Burt's spank bank material and I'll enjoy it just as much as I did today."

Your laugh is watery against his chest, and he tilts your chin up to softly press his lips against yours again, this time shielded from the hungry gaze of strange old people. He thumbs away your tears.

"By the way," he whispers against your lips. "I liked watchin' you fail at shootin'. It's cute."

You glare half-heartedly at him, pushing him off of you and rounding to the passenger side of the truck. "I always knew you were into humiliation."

"Maybe we should try it, just to know for sure," he smirks, leaning against the door frame, towering over you.

You look him up and down, eyeing the muscles of his forearms and the way his t-shirt stretches across his broad chest. Your voice comes out lower than you expect it to.

“Get in the damn truck, Miller."

"Yes ma'am."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller #tlou fic #game joel miller #pedro pascal #soft joel miller

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reegis · 4 months

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THE LORE INFODUMP WAS SO COOL!!!! Can I ask about the demon hierarchy? Like, are there demons that are roughly equivalent to the Seraphim in ranking/power? Also I'm curious about the other Seraphim

TYSM?????(!!!) i have put Way too much thought into this im so very sorry this is also super long..

Demon hierarchy is basically a complicated echo or shadow of angelic hierarchy??,, when the angels attempted to overthrow God (and failed, obvi) they were cast from Heaven into the Other- no longer angels, not even human. Angels rely almost soley on their holy power to See and to physically Manifest, so the newly formed demons lacked form, sight, and were almost entirely mindless.

From the Other, which became “Hell” as humans call it, the demons (blinded and mindless as they were) could sense the faint flickers of holy light emanating from human souls and sought them out like a moth to flame.

Lacking form, at first the demons were able to do little beyond sow distrust or cause minor accidents. but with every soul marked and corrupted they realized their power grew- not holy power, as they had been seeking, but some twisted equivalent- and their own hierarchy began to appear. (As their original ranking was lost when they fell, it isnt known if their Former angelic ranking plays a part in their Current demonic ranking… although most redemption-arc demons claim to have been originally of a higher angelic rank, so who can say)

Lower level angels are mostly ephemeral, lacking true form but leaving a marked impression, and lowest level demons are the same. They can influence and whisper, provoke crowds into a killing frenzy, but lack a true form or real impact. They mainly subsist off of mindless violence.

Mid level demons are able to manifest, though briefly, and like all demons cannot create their own Eyes so they are often terrifying to behold. This semi-corporeal form allows them to create greater paranoia and general chaos than their lower counterparts but still lacks any real finesse

High level demons are the only ones capable of integrating into high society and pulling long cons. They are capable of possession (altho the body Will begin to rot if they inhabit it for too long) and some can convincingly create a human form with “eyes” that passes for human under a glamor

^^ all higher demons that “pass” in human society (with glamors) and the way they emulate “eyes”

The highest ranking demons are probably roughly equivalent to the Seraphim?? not in term of individual power alone but mainly due to their spheres of influence.

in terms of the 7 Seraphim-

theres the wrath of god (hadeon) charged with punishing humanities sins,

theres the love of god (demonte) bearing God’s love for humanity,

theres the eyes of god (einya) who watches and records humanity over the eons.

Theres the hands of god (?) who both held a hand in creating and still creates for humanity

the sorrow of god (?) charged with forgiving humanity, over and over and over again.

Then there are the two missing Seraphim, the throat of god (?) prophesying humanity, and the feet of god (?) the emissary of humanity who once walked among them.

#IM SORRY I LICHERALLY SAID I WOULDNT BE SPAMMINF & YET HERE I AM…#i have designs 4 hands & sorrow too but they arent like. Finished finished #& the other 2 are missing for Plot reasons #ty for asking lets french irl #💖💖💖💖#(/j!)#asks #my art

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butterfly-lies-chase-them-away · 5 months

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Hi! Hope you're doing well! If requests are still open, could I request a reader pairing for Alfie Solomons please?

A basic outline idea is that reader and Alfie meet at different moments in their lives, just crossing paths (they even meet during the war) but it's always as passing ships. They don't entirely come together until they both end up in Camden, some time after the war and it just seems as if the universe was finally ready to have them come into contact with the other. And when they do, it's like they've lived a thousand lifetimes with the other already. My apologies if none of this makes sense 😅. Basically, Alfie and reader have almost meetings, they run in similar situations throughout their lives but have never come close enough to actually come into contact with the other properly. Even during the war, it would be passing glances but time would seem to stand still, and both would feel as if they'd missed something important but could never place what it was. Then a fateful day they finally properly meet/see eachother.

Thank you and no pressure!

- 🥀

Destiny - Alfie Solomons x GN!Reader

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x GN!Reader

Word Count: 2792

Warnings: mention of war injuries (minor injuries)

Summary: the request

A/N: Thank you so much for the request, whenever I see your 🥀, it really does make me smile. I really hope I did your request justice because it sounded so fucking cute! 💚

On a rare sunny day in the heart of London, a golden warmth bathed the city, casting an unfamiliar but welcome glow over its bustling streets. Seizing the opportunity to revel in this unusual weather, Y/n found themselves at a pub with their family. The pub exuded a comforting charm, its walls steeped in the echoes of shared laughter and the clinking of glasses. The ambience mingled with the gentle hum of animated conversations, creating a backdrop for the familial celebration.

Around a rustic wooden table, Y/n's family gathered, their smiles illuminated by the soft sunlight streaming through the pub's windows. The clatter of cutlery and the rich aroma of hearty pub fare filled the air as they shared stories, laughter, and the joyous spirit of the day.

As the calm atmosphere of the pub was momentarily disrupted by the boisterous entrance of a group of men, their laughter echoing through the space, an undeniable ripple of disturbance coursed through the patrons. The men, seemingly impervious to the annoance they stirred, found their way to a booth in the back, claiming it with an air of careless possession. The ambient noise level rose, but the pub's occupants, though mildly irked, continued with their conversations and revelry, determined not to let the intrusion dampen the celebratory mood.

Y/n's gaze was strangely drawn to the rowdy group, and in particular, to one man who stood out amidst the chaos. It wasn't until he glanced up that Y/n found themselves ensnared in a trance. His eyes, pools of indescribable beauty, held a captivating allure that defied explanation. The man felt oddly familiar, but Y/n knew they had never met before. The connection was visceral, mutual even, as if the currents of destiny had momentarily aligned. The pub's commotion faded into the background, and in that suspended moment, neither Y/n nor the mysterious man seemed willing to break the enchantment.

Y/n's immersion in the captivating gaze was abruptly interrupted by a gentle nudge from their mother, a subtle reminder that life outside the spellbinding moment carried on. Reluctantly tearing their eyes away, Y/n found the mysterious man looking elsewhere as well, as if the enchantment had been momentarily broken. The air between them hung with a charged tension, the unspoken connection lingering even as they both redirected their attention to the surroundings.

Throughout the night, stolen glances and shared glimmers of curiosity went back and forth. Y/n couldn't resist stealing moments to look in the man's direction, finding him reciprocating the silent exchange. The pub buzzed with life around them, yet in their mutual acknowledgment, a subtle understanding seemed to blossom. Each stolen glance held the promise of a conversation left unspoken, a connection suspended in the uncharted territory of the unsaid.

Despite the magnetic pull drawing them together, neither Y/n nor the mysterious man took the initiative to bridge the gap that separated them physically. The unspoken language of glances painted an intricate picture of shared curiosity and intrigue, leaving the possibility of interaction hanging in the air like an unresolved chord, waiting for the right moment to resonate.

Leaving the pub with the echoes of laughter and clinking glasses behind them, Y/n couldn't resist stealing one last glance back at the mysterious man. To their surprise, his eyes were fixed on Y/n, an unmistakable connection sparking once again. It felt as if the moment hung in suspended animation, teetering on the brink of something unspoken. The man, seemingly on the verge of standing, was sidetracked by a friend handing him a drink. The mutual yearning lingered in the air, leaving both parties with a sense of unfulfilled potential. As Y/n and their family ventured into the London night, the unexplored possibilities of that chance encounter reverberated, a silent promise awaiting the right chapter to unfold in the tapestry of their lives.

Prior to the outbreak of the war, Y/n was acquainted with the sight of blood and the severity of injuries, yet nothing could prepare them for the overwhelming influx that ensued. As the conflict raged on, hospital ships became both a haven and a battlefield, with wounded soldiers arriving in escalating numbers each day. Y/n, undeterred by the relentless tide, navigated the crowded rooms with unwavering determination.

Their days were a blur of urgent activity, swiftly moving from one patient to the next, frantically gathering the necessary equipment to staunch the wounds and offer solace to the men in their care. The wartime hospital became both a crucible of suffering and a testament to Y/n's unyielding commitment to alleviating the agony of those who had sacrificed so much on the front lines.

In the midst of the chaotic triage, Y/n found themself attending to an unconscious soldier, their hands swift and sure as they worked to staunch an open wound on his thigh. Amidst the urgency, another nurse hurried over, seeking an assessment of the wounded man's condition. "How is he looking?" the nurse inquired anxiously.

"Fine, who's asking?" Y/n responded, their focus unwavering as they continued to tend to the injured soldier's wounds.

"A captain," the nurse replied, her voice betraying a sense of urgency and concern. "He's asking as a friend. He's sitting over there, a minor gunshot wound," she added, gesturing towards a nearby bed.

Y/n's gaze followed the nurse's gesture, landing on a man with a captain's insignia, his stomach wrapped in the telltale bandages that marked the aftermath of battle. The captain's steely stare met Y/n's, and an unspoken connection seemed to crackle between them. Neither could look away, caught in a momentary trance that transcended the cacophony of the hospital around them. The gravity of war and the shared intensity of their gaze created a bond that lingered, casting an unexpected spell amidst the relentless turmoil of the medical bay.

The captivating intensity of the captain's gaze held Y/n in a trance, an allure that seemed to echo with familiarity, as if the threads of destiny were weaving them together. Y/n hesitated to tear their eyes away, drawn into the magnetic pull. With an almost reluctant detachment, Y/n finally shifted their attention back to the unconscious soldier, continuing to wrap up his wounded leg. Tending to the injured man served as a grounding force, a brief respite from the magnetic connection with the captain.

"You can tell the man he's fine," Y/n spoke to the nurse, their voice carrying a subtle hint of distraction. "Only a small wound, passed out from shock more than anything."

The nurse nodded in acknowledgment and retraced her steps towards the captain. Y/n observed from the periphery as the nurse relayed the reassuring news, yet the captain's gaze remained unwaveringly fixed on them. It was as if an invisible force bound them together, an unspoken understanding that transcended the chaos of war and the confines of their roles in the medical bay.

It had been a year since the war ended, and Y/n found themselves settling into a life that bore the marks of both resilience and recovery. The echoes of the battlefield had gradually faded, replaced by a newfound sense of normalcy. Y/n's days were no longer punctuated by the urgent chaos of wartime nursing; instead, they had transitioned into a semblance of tranquility.

Life, now, seemed to unfold in a gentle rhythm, allowing space for personal growth and the pursuit of newfound joys. The city around them had also transformed, shedding the somber shadows of war for the vibrant hues of a world that was rebuilding. Yet, even in this period of respite, a subtle restlessness lingered in Y/n's heart, as if an unspoken chapter awaited them, destined to be written.

Settling into Camden town after the war, Y/n discovered that the post-war reality was a maze of both opportunities and challenges. The once-booming demand for military nurses had dwindled, leaving Y/n in the throes of a job market that offered little solace. The skills acquired on the battlefield, while invaluable in the context of wartime, now seemed displaced in a society that was seeking a different kind of healing.

Today, Y/n was trying their chances at a secretary job their cousin had told them about. Y/n knew the work was dodgy, but didn’t have many options at this point. Y/n knew little about the job they were potentially applying for but was more than willing to try anything.

Walking into what they believed to be a bakery, Y/n was taken aback by the unexpected scent of alcohol that permeated the air. Led through the establishment by their cousin James, they were stopped outside what seemed to be an office by a tall, slender man. James, with an air of familiarity, introduced Y/n to the man.

"Hello, Ollie. This is my cousin, and they're interested in applying as a secretary," James stated, prompting Ollie to cast a discerning glance at Y/n.

"Previous jobs?" Ollie asked.

"I served as a nurse in the war, but I'm quite good in typing and desperately need a job," Y/n replied, their eagerness to transition evident.

Ollie paused, looking them up and down for a moment before nodding thoughtfully and gesturing for them to step forward. The office door swung open, revealing another man inside.

"Someone's just come in for the secretary job, Alfie," Ollie informed the man at the desk, introducing Y/n.

The man, Alfie, looked up from the files in front of him, his gaze meeting Y/n's. And like that, the world stopped. This time, they knew they’ve met before, or at least seen one another. It was a gaze neither could forget. Alfie stood from his seat immediately, not believing what he was seeing. It had to be destiny. God had truly blessed them.

"Fuck off, Ollie," Alfie dismissed his employee, his attention undiverted from Y/n, who stood in the doorway.

Ollie, sensing an unexpected tension in the air, made a swift exit, leaving Y/n alone with Alfie. The atmosphere in the room crackled with unspoken energy, and Alfie's gaze held a familiarity that defied the boundaries of a typical job interview.

In that moment, Y/n struggled to understand the depth of their connection. It felt as though they had known Alfie longer than the years they had lived. It was a sensation that transcended mere memories; it was an inexplicable understanding that time had woven their stories together in a tapestry that stretched across lifetimes. The air in the room seemed to hold the echoes of their shared history, and the serendipity of their reunion resonated with a familiarity that defied logic.

As Y/n looked at Alfie, it became clear that their paths had been intricately entwined long before they found themselves in the present moment. The laughter, the glances, the missed opportunities—all of it seemed like chapters in a story that had been unfolding over the course of lifetimes, waiting for the perfect moment to reveal itself. The ordinary office, with its scent of alcohol and the weight of job interviews, now felt like a stage where the drama of their shared history was about to unfold in unexpected and extraordinary ways.

"You... I know you," Alfie finally spoke, his voice carrying a mixture of recognition and intrigue.

"You were a captain in the war," Y/n acknowledged, the shared history connecting them now laid bare.

"And you were a nurse.." Alfie completed the sentence, the weight of the past settling in the room like a silent revelation.

The air hung heavy with the unspoken, as if the universe had conspired once again to bring them together, this time not as passing ships but as two souls navigating the currents of post-war Camden.

"Fuck me," Alfie laughed, the realization dawning on him. "You were the one at the pub too."

"Excuse me?" Y/n questioned, a mix of confusion and surprise crossing their face.

"It was about... fuck, bit over 10 years ago, I can't fucking remember. But I ain't never forgot that face," Alfie admitted, the years falling away as the memory resurfaced.

The air in the room seemed to hold its breath, charged with the revelation that their paths had crossed long before this unexpected reunion. The threads of fate, intricately woven through time and chance, now bound them together once more. The shared moment at the pub, the stolen glances, and the unspoken connection had left an indelible mark, waiting for the chapters of their lives to unfold and intertwine in ways they could have never anticipated. In the midst of the mundane—amidst job interviews and bakery offices—the echoes of the past whispered their shared history, breathing life into a story that had taken years to unfold.

"Well, it's nice to finally fucking meet you," Alfie exclaimed, the laughter still lingering in his eyes.

"You too," Y/n replied, a genuine smile breaking across their face. The room, once filled with the tension of the unexpected reunion, now seemed to exhale, as if the universe itself was acknowledging the significance of this meeting.

The weight of years and unspoken moments hung in the air, creating a bridge between two souls who had circled each other in the dance of fate. It was more than a job interview; it was a cosmic rendezvous, a meeting that had been written in the stars long before they found themselves in this office.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," Alfie blurted out, the words slipping from his lips before he could censor them.

Y/n, caught off guard by the unexpected compliment, felt a warm blush creeping up their cheeks.

"Uh... sorry 'bout that," Alfie mumbled, his gaze shifting downward in embarrassment.

"Well... why don't we introduce ourselves properly then," Y/n suggested, a warm smile playing on their lips as they approached Alfie's desk.

As Y/n extended their hand, Alfie mirrored the gesture, their hands meeting in a handshake that felt like a connection stretching across time. In that simple touch, a cascade of images flooded their minds—snapshots of shared moments, fleeting glances, and a history that seemed to have unfolded in a different lifetime.

"I... I don't know how to explain this," Y/n confessed, their eyes searching Alfie's for understanding. "But I feel as if I've known you forever."

"Fuck, you felt that too?" Alfie responded, his eyebrows lifting in a mixture of surprise and recognition.

As the pieces of their intertwined past began to fall into place, Y/n and Alfie found themselves standing at the nexus of something extraordinary, a connection that defied the boundaries of time and space.

"I suppose this is fate or something," Y/n mused, their eyes reflecting the wonder of a cosmic connection.

"Whatever it is, I'm fucking grateful for it," Alfie laughed, the sincerity in his words resonating with the inexplicable bond they shared.

Y/n returned his smile, a mixture of gratitude and anticipation playing on their lips.

"So... about that job?" Y/n asked, shifting the conversation back to the immediate present.

"Nah, you don't need no fucking job. You're with me now, yeah? I'll keep you living well," Alfie declared, his tone carrying a sense of unwavering determination.

"Oh, I can't let you do that for me," Y/n responded, a flicker of hesitation in their voice.

Alfie waved his hands dismissively. "Don't want to hear it," he said with a grin, cutting off any protest before it could fully form.

"At least let me help you around here," Y/n suggested, not wanting to feel completely useless.

"Fine, how about you make us a nice cup of tea and tell me about yourself, hmm?" Alfie proposed, a playful glint in his eye.

Y/n's smile widened. "Of course."

As Y/n set about preparing the tea, Alfie leaned against a nearby surface, watching with a mixture of amusement and admiration. As the aroma of freshly brewed tea filled the room, Y/n joined Alfie with two steaming cups in hand. The exchange of glances between them held a silent promise of shared stories.

In that office in Camden, the two souls realigned, as if destiny had guided them to this pivotal intersection. The gentle clinking of teacups became a melody marking the beginning of an unwritten chapter. As Y/n and Alfie exchanged sips of warmth and told tales from their past, an unspoken understanding settled between them, an unbreakable bond forged in the shared moments of laughter and revelation. In the quiet rhythm of their conversation, an implicit promise took root. Nothing could ever sever the ties that had come to bind them together. - A/N: I really hope you enjoyed this one because it just loved writing it. These babes are desperate for one another and they don't even know why, they are so cute! It's a bit shorter than I hoped for but family got me caught up and all sorts of shit, so finding the time wasn't the easiest but I'm glad I wrote it because it was truly fun for me. Thank you for reading and I look forward to more requests :) 💚

#fanfic #alfie solomons #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x reader #peaky blinder fanfic #alfie solomons imagine #peaky blinders alfie solomons #peaky blinder imagine #tom hardy x reader #tom hardy imagine #tom hardy fanfic #tom hardy

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zoeykallus · 1 year

Note

So, how would the boys - you decide who you want to write about <3 - react to getting caught by their brother's during spicy time?

And would it be funny like joking or would they immediately throw their brothers out?

Interesting Request!

Thanks for letting me decide 😁

Fives/Hunter/Crosshair/Tech/Rex/Echo x Reader HCs - Do Not Disturb

Warnings: Mention Of Sexual Activities/ Strong Language/18+ (Just to be safe)

No, none of this leads to a threesome.

_______________

Fives

He is, at first, basically as frightened and ashamed as most others would be if they were caught in the middle of making love. But Fives, unlike most others, knows how to cover up this shock. Cheeky as ever, he has a quip or two at the ready.

" Well, if you stare any longer, I'm going to charge you for it".

Should poor Rex burst into the situation, Fives probably says something like, "Want in?" just to make the captain blush.

Fives takes the matter with humor and instead of getting angry about it and having his brothers tease him about it, he struts around grinning cheekily with his chest swelling with pride. After all, he has a sexy partner for certain hours, which not many of his brothers necessarily have.

Hunter

Is of course first startled and annoyed by the disturbance.

"Get out of here, now!"

He needs a moment to catch himself, he won't be able to continue immediately afterward, the mood is gone for him for the time being with a disturbing interruption like this. Probably best to take a break, make sure the door is locked next time, and get back in the mood.

Hunter doesn't let the matter go either, the disturber is confronted and rebuked at the next opportunity.

"Don't you ever think of coming in again without knocking, and without being asked".

Of course, should you have danced the vertical tango in a publicly accessible area, this statement will not hold water. In that case, Hunter will scowl and swallow his anger at the intrusion.

Crosshair

He's pissed. As cocky as he sometimes talks and as physical as he is, Crosshair is actually very private about his intimate life with you. You probably do the wildest things, but that's just you and no one else. He's pretty sensitive to being disturbed, which is also a little bit due to the fact that he's basically a little insecure.

One or the other threat is made (it doesn't matter who causes the disturbance) and for the time being the mood is ruined.

"Get the fuck out!"

He will get dressed directly, confront the disturbing person, and then go with you to a more secluded place.

It takes a while for him to calm down and get back in the mood, so be patient with him. If his brothers don't want him to get really mad, they will refrain from teasing him about it.

Tech

For him, this is a disaster. He may have thawed out in living with you by now, but he is very private about your intimate life. Even though Tech has found his passionate side with you and is generally often very direct and open about this physical exchange of intimate caresses, he only feels comfortable with you and no one else should see or know that.

The thought that one of his brothers saw him like this will gnaw at him for days, maybe even weeks, or longer. For now, anyway, the mood is at rock bottom. Even though he is very close with his brothers, and there are hardly any secrets or unseen things, this is something he does not want to share with them. He feels exposed and very uncomfortable with it.

You can assume that from this moment on, he will be much more cautious and will plan and secure your meetings of this kind much more precisely.

Rex

He is annoyed, feels shame but also a certain pride. First, the interfering person is chased away, stern and threatening, then he needs a moment to catch himself. Rex is not uptight, but quite private and introverted, at least as far as his sex life is concerned. He doesn't peddle it like some of his other brothers do, ~cough~ Fives.

In fact, it's very easy to embarrass him, so if Rex has the misfortune of Fives or Hardcase catching him with you, for example, you can expect the Captain to be walking around with his head on fire for weeks because they can't help teasing him about it.

Rex, however, doesn't miss the opportunity to put Fives on unpleasant special duty until he gives up the jokes. This could take some time, though, because just like Rex, Fives can be cursedly persistent and stubborn, especially when it comes to nonsense.

Echo

For him, it's very similar to what happens with Rex. Shock, annoyance, shame. After the disturbing factor is chased out of the room, he also needs a moment to catch himself, but surprisingly not as long as most others. He will later complain to the disturbing person that he violated his and your privacy.

You can't tease him about it for long, though; the first time or two he may blush when his brothers make side comments or crack jokes and react in shock, but Echo adjusts fairly quickly and responds surprisingly quick-wittedly.

""Jealous much?"

or,

"At least I have a sex life, unlike other people present"

But perhaps also,

"You can only dream of that. I wouldn't even hold it against you if you did".

His brothers' quips eventually pass quite quickly.

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaw

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@cpnt616

@dangraccoon

@jediknightjana

@pb-jellybeans

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sophswritingthings · 5 months

Note

So I had a unique idea for a mizu x reader. The readers a coal farmer with her family and she carries and distributes the coal with her uncle, she hasn't MET mizu but they've seen each other in passing more then once in many different locations over the time of mizus travels but as mizu and Ringo come to a small town where she happens to be in, they find her in trouble shes cornered by a large group of men that want to harm her for some unforseen reason and plot twist. She keeps makeshift bombs in her coal basket, so she basically lights em up but still gets pretty banged up, by that point though mizus decided to help and eventually they come out victorious. By that point mizus interested and so is reader and that's how they meet (THIS WAS SO LONG I'M SO SORRY 😭)

pairing: mizu x fem!coal farmer!reader

warning(s): swearing, bombs, blood, injury

a/n: it’s not too long dw!! and I like the idea! anything like, unique, is always fun to write!

summary: after traveling so far with your family, you remember seeing a samurai every so often—the same one. and when you come to a town, and you’re in trouble, he’s the one who saves you.

word count: 543 words / 2,957 characters

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

you were piling the coal into the cart, black dust all over your hands. soot and ash dashed on your face, though you were smiling.

your hair was tied up and you were smiling.

“(y/n)!” your uncle calls, his face covered in soot and ash.

“yes! comin’!” you dash around the corner, meeting up with him. “yes?”

“I need you to take this down the street—drop it off.” he shoved another cart of coal into your hands. “collect the money and be quick.”

his words sounded almost like a warning.

“uh.. okay..” you murmur, taking the cart and sliding out of the building. you slid the small bombs you always kept on you into the wedges of the cart.

from your uncles tone, it seemed like you’d be needing them.

as you were passing down the street, someone caught your eye.

a samurai. face pretty much fully concealed by a hat and orange glasses.

you’d seen him before. In multiple places.

kyoto, was one of them—you’d seen him passing through to shindo dojo. he had accidentally found the shindo brothel, but..

you’d seen him a good amount. you couldn’t help but wonder if there was any meaning, to that.

but you sighed, making your way down to the building your uncle had directed you to.

“um, sir? I have a delivery,” you call inside, your voice echoing.

“huh.. what exactly is the delivery?”

she turned around at the deep, raspy voice. a large man, probably five times your size, standing over you.

“the.. coal..” you murmured, watching as the man eyed you up and down. “okay—I-I’m gonna—“

you reached for one of the small bombs, tossing it out into the street.

when it went off; it caught a certain samurai’s attention.

and the man’s other men.

a charge, was coming toward you.

the samurai watched, yet only for a moment. he wasn’t going to let an innocent woman be hurt if there was something he could do.

plus.. he’d noticed you too. In all those times that he’d seen you passing through, town after town.

gorgeous, you were. to him—at least.

he was able to fend off each and every guard, glancing at you when he was done.

“are you..” he huffed, “alright?”

“yes.. I’m..” you stopped, glancing up at the man. your eyes widened as you saw who it was “you. It’s you.”

“.. yes,” he whispered, pulling you to your feet. “I happen to travel.”

you chuckle, tucking a piece of stray hair behind your ear, “so do I. It’s for my job.”

“hmm,” he glanced at your soot covered clothes. “you travel with your family, I’ve seen you.”

“yes! it’s a family business, I suppose?” you cock your head. “and you.. you’re a traveling samurai.”

“I am in search of information,” he hissed. “a white man.”

your eyes widen. there were not white man left in japan—yet.. you could see that sliver of blue behind his glasses.

“I see,” you fold your hands against your stomach. “thank you for saving me.”

he nods, “right, of course. Ill..” he turns over his shoulder, tapping his head down to you. “see you around, I suppose.”

“yeah,” you whisper as he walks away, clutching your bandana close to your chest.

“see you around.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n: im sorry it took so long to get to this!! it got buried in my inbox 🥲

#mizu x you #mizu x reader #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu #blue eyed samurai #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #ask #asked and answered #x reader #request #fic request

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yetanothersparrowofthedawn · 3 months

Text

St Jude

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5k

Pairing: Jake x Reader

Genre: Angst, hurt, ex!Jake

Context: Y/N’s Bachelorette Party and an open bar don’t mix very well for one Jacob Thomas Kiszka.

Disclaimer: English isn’t my native language, so I apologize in advance for mistakes and awkward wordings to come.

Previous Track: The Way I Loved You

Chapter soundtrack: St Jude – Florence + the Machine

Another conversation with no destination, Another battle never won, Each side is a loser, So who cares who fired the gun? And I'm learning so I'm leaving, And even though I'm grieving, I'm trying to find a meaning. Let loss reveal it. St Jude, the patron saint of the lost causes. St Jude, we were lost before she started.

(By the way, for every ‘Chapter Soundtrack’, basically the idea is that it’s a song that YN eventually wrote with that chapter of her life in mind)

Alright, let’s get into this.

_______

The Florida sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the expansive beach. Gentle waves whispered tales of excitement as the beachside bar awaited the arrival of the bachelorette and her entourage.

The atmosphere was charged with anticipation when Sam, Danny, and Jake walked through the door, greeted by a lively crowd of friends and colleagues of YN’s.

As they took in the venue, Sam couldn't help but chuckle, "Well, would you look at that? The three of us are early for once!”

Danny grinned in agreement, “Must be some kind of cosmic event."

Jake, however, remained unusually quiet, his eyes scanning the room as though searching for something elusive.

The trio made their way to the bar area, where the clinking of glasses and the murmur of conversations offered a lively background. Sam raised an eyebrow at Jake, sensing something brewing within his brother. "You alright, man? You're quieter than a library on a Sunday."

"Yeah, just tired,” Jake took a sip of his drink, the bitter taste doing little to soothe the turmoil within. “Probably just need more of this," he quipped, attempting a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Truth was, he had been having a hard time getting proper sleep. Eating too, but he’d blamed it on the stress of their upcoming album.

Guests mingled, sharing anecdotes and laughter as the sun set over the horizon. Yet, Jake remained on the periphery, a shadow among the revelry. His gaze occasionally flicked towards the entrance, a subconscious yearning for something unseen.

In a sudden burst of energy, YN and her bridesmaids, including Josh in his bright pink bridesman attire, finally made their grand entrance. The room erupted in cheers and applause and the air filled with an infectious effervescence.

YN, radiant in her sparkly dress, moved with a grace as she made her way through the crowd, greeting friends and well-wishers. Jake was surprised to feel his chest tightening with an indescribable unease.

As YN approached the trio, her infectious energy lit up the space around her.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, behold the miracle,” Sam playfully teased, “she has arrived, and only an hour late!”

"Very funny, Samuel,” YN chuckled, giving a light shove to his shoulder.

Danny smirked, raising his glass. "Taking punctuality lessons from Josh, YN?"

Amidst the banter, her eyes met Jake's. "Hi," she beamed at him, her tone warm and friendly, “I’m so glad you could come.”

"Wouldn’t miss it for the world," Jake replied, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

As the night progressed, the sky darkened, and the party came alive with the sounds of music and champagne bottles popping open. The bachelorette, seemingly everywhere at once, danced from one group to another. Her laughter mingled with the rhythm of the music, a joyful symphony that echoed through the night.

Meanwhile, Jake found solace at the open bar, the cool glass in his hand offering a temporary escape from the overwhelming ambiance.

Each drink served as a futile attempt to drown out whatever was going on with him as he watched her from a distance. The alcohol in his empty stomach brought a temporary numbness, but the reprieve was only fleeting.

The atmosphere in the venue grew electric as the bridesmaids gathered to present YN with a playful gift—a sparkling tiara adorned with rhinestones spelling out ‘Mrs. Styles’. The crowd erupted in cheers as they crowned her, and YN, with a laugh, embraced the moment, wearing the gift with an air of mock regality.

Jake, however, felt an odd pang in his chest at the sight. He could’ve sworn the glittering tiara had been taunting him.

The night wore on and the tension within the guitarist continued to escalate amidst the pulsating beats and laughter. The bar, as per usual, turned out to be both his refuge and prison.

His gaze regularly flickered to her figure, unable to escape the magnetic pull she exerted, however much he tried to convince himself otherwise. And she looked so fucking happy.

The event carried on, and it seemed everything and anything only added fuel to the growing fire. A well-intentioned bridesmaid, unaware of the complexities that lingered beneath the surface, approached Jake to toast to the newlyweds.

A bitter taste lingered in his mouth at the girl’s words, and he thought he might just get sick all over the poor girl. It’s probably just the whiskey, right?

He somehow managed to retain composure, turning back to the drink he was nursing while the confused girl walked back to the dance floor.

It’s only a while later that a familiar voice interrupted his wandering thoughts.

“One Negroni, sugar.” Patty. “And don’t skimp on the Gin.” YN’s manager materialized to his side as she addressed the bartender. After a moment she turned to the guitarist. Leaning against the counter, she broke the silence.

“It’s nice for you to have come, Jacob.”

He clenched his jaw at her words. Yes, that was him, Jacob nice-guy Kiszka. He absolutely had not considered setting himself on fire for the past three hours.

The two of them once had a lovely friendship, if you could call it that. They never had that much in common, but they’d always shared one priority. YN’s well-being. Everything, of course, had turned sour when the rocky days of his and YN’s relationship creeped in, forcing Patty to step in more than once.

Memories of years past came back to Jake. Hushed conversations between the manager and him. Arguments behind closed doors. It’s for the best, Jacob. She won’t admit it, but she’ll eventually break if you two keep on going that way. It’s a necessary evil.

Patty had almost always been right, of course. Still, the bitter memories left his very flesh feeling raw.

“I can’t imagine it was easy,” she continued with a knowing look. Jake stared at his glass in silence. “But trust me, this, it’s good. It’s right.” she stated, “I suppose some things are just- meant to be.”Jake knew exactly what she’d meant to say. And some other are not.

He couldn’t help but wonder if Patty truly knew YN. Not the performer, not America’s sweetheart, not the tabloid-pleasing, award-winning, photo-posing girl. The true YN.

To be fair, she probably did. After all, Patty had been by YN’s side much longer than he had. She’d protected her in ways that went far beyond her role as manager. She’d cared the way a mother does. She’d wanted the fairytale for YN and, of course, with that came the prince charming, on his white fucking horse, with his stupid fucking English accent.

The chaos that clung to Jake’s very skin had most definitely clashed with that picture. Of course, the early days were fine. More than fine, in fact. Before Patty had witnessed them at their worst, she’d seen them at their best. But when the time came, when the chips were truly down, she had, of course, put YN’s interest first.

“If that make you feel better,” Patty carried on, “I’ll still look after her in London.”

Jake’s heart skipped a beat and he thought he might have misheard. He finally looked up to meet her gaze. Patty nodded, as sad understanding in her eyes, “They’ve been looking through houses, for after the honeymoon.”

Jake’s grip tightened around the glass in his hand. He might have burst out laughing had it not been so ridiculously tragic. He hadn’t even considered that an option. Why couldn’t Harry just move permanently to the US, huh? If he really was so giving and good? Why couldn’t he make that sacrifice? Asshole. And why on earth would YN ever accept to settle down with that guy to the other side of the world? Since when was she the kind to just follow someone around?

“You must be happy,” Jake eventually mumbled, taking another sip.

He couldn’t help but act as though it was all Patty’s doing. As though she had somehow planned the whole thing, the way a Bond villain does. As though she had wanted to make sure YN remained out of reach forevermore.

Maybe it was simply easier to believe that, than to accept the fact that YN, his YN, had wanted to follow her husband so far away. 4000 fucking miles away to be precise. That she had chosen all this.

“I am,” Patty replied with a gentle nod, “so long as she is, too.”

Some voices beckoned Patty back to the dance floor and with a gentle squeeze of his arm, she finally retreated. “Go easy on the whiskey, Jacob,” she uttered as she walked away.

Jake let his mind wander. A London townhouse. With a backyard and a fucking cat. An extra room on the second floor, just in case, with walls waiting to be painted in shades of pink or blue. Fucking baked beans for breakfast. And tea. Yeah, Harry probably drank tea. Harry probably wasn’t one to drown himself in booze and send the car flying off the road, glass shattering all over her skin.

YN would go to bed without worrying about where he was. Harry would be in bed before her, probably reading some posh poetry collection; reciting some Keats verses as she slid next to him.

Jake had never been one for words. It had been the delicate strumming of his guitar that filled the air when YN slid next to him in bed. Of course, that was before the stupid fighting, the tears, and the nights away. She must’ve had gotten used to sliding into an empty cold bed, with only the sound of city construction nursing her to sleep.

Now he was the one going to bed alone. Or he might as well have been. The coconut-smelling girls coming in and out of his apartment didn’t exactly constitute company worth mentioning.

A bitter ache ran through him, and he ordered another drink.

It was around two in the morning when toasts started echoing through the venue.

One of YN’s bridesmaids, took the stage. As she stepped forward with the microphone, the room fell into a hushed silence, the soft murmur of the ocean outside the only background noise.

She spoke eloquently, weaving tales of love and destiny, her words painted with the vibrant hues of celebration. "And here's to the happiest I've ever seen YN," she declared, raising her glass. "It's like fate itself intervened to bring her and Harry together. It's a love story for the ages, one that was truly meant to be."

Jake, further lost in the depths of intoxication, sat at the bar with clenched fists, the whiskey in his glass nearly forgotten. Each word intensified the throbbing ache within him. His gaze fixed on YN, who smiled with genuine joy, seemingly oblivious to his anguish.

As the applause erupted, drowning the room in a symphony of congratulations, Jake felt a surge frustration. No longer tethered by reason, he downed the remaining contents of his glass in one swift motion. The sharp burn of the alcohol igniting the dormant embers of his emotions.

With an intensity that surprised even himself, Jake pushed away from the bar, his movements unsteady as he navigated through the sea of well-wishers.

Without a second thought, driven solely by a raw, unfiltered impulse, Jake ascended the small stage. The bridesmaid, caught off guard, relinquished the space, her eyes widening in surprise as Jake snatched the microphone from her hand.

The atmosphere hung heavy with a mix of tension and anticipation as Jake took center stage with a stumbling step. His jaw clenched, and a fire burned in his eyes.

"Good evening, everyone," Jake began, his squinting gaze momentarily lost in the sea of faces before him. His words slurred slightly, a testament to the alcohol coursing through his veins.

"As some of you may know, I am the ex-boyfriend and now dear, dear friend of the bride-to-be,” he paused for a second, the words making him nauseous. “Anyway, where was I?" he chuckled, the sound tinged with a bitter undertone. "Right. Y/N. What can be said about her? I mean, she truly is something, isn't she?" A nervous ripple of laughter spread through the crowd, uneasy with the unpredictability of the guitarist's unfiltered words.

Sam and Danny exchanged concerned glances, realizing that this impromptu speech had the potential to become quite a spectacle. "She's full of- surprises, a real freak, if you know what I m—" someone from the crowd attempted to interject, but Daniel swiftly got on stage, a diplomatic smile plastered on his face. He gently grasped Jake's shoulder, a silent plea for restraint.

"Come on, man," Daniel murmured, his voice low and soothing. "Let's go get some fresh air, huh?"

Jake brushed off the boy’s attempt with a dismissive wave, his focus resuming on the microphone. "No, no, no, it's okay," he insisted, his words carrying a touch of defiance. "I'm just- joking around. That's what you do at a bachelorette party, isn’t it? Recount the future bride's past adventures,” he giggled bitterly, looking to the crowd, “and boy, you would not believe—"

"Jake, let's go," Sam intervened, his presence adding a sense of urgency to the situation. The crowd's gaze shifted from Jake to Sam, to Danny, and a hushed murmur swept through the venue. Jake, however, seemed caught in a trance, his eyes seeking YN’s figure in the crowd.

Sam and Danny attempted to guide him off the stage. "Hey! Let go of me," he protested, swaying unsteadily in a mix of intoxication and defiance. "Come on, I'm just joking around!” he resisted, his hand still holding tightly onto the microphone, “Sammy, come on, you, of all people would know what I'm talking about. I mean, you did catch us fucking a couple times, didn't you?" A collective gasp swept through the crowd in audible shock.

The atmosphere shifted from celebratory to uncomfortable in the blink of an eye. Jake's words hung in the air, leaving those in attendance in a state of stunned silence.

Before Jake could utter another word, Josh leaped onto the stage. Swift and decisive, he forcefully grabbed the microphone. The screeching feedback filled the room, momentarily drowning out any further words from Jake. The abrupt halt cut through the tension and the venue filled with an uncertain hush.

Sam and Danny, each with a firm grip on Jake, guided him away from the unfolding chaos, their expressions a mix of concern and frustration. "Alright, time for bed," Sam asserted, his tone firm as they led Jake out the door.

Back on the stage, an uncomfortable silence lingered. You could’ve heard a pin drop. Josh, perhaps for the first time ever, found himself dumbfounded with a microphone in his hand and spotlight shining on him.

His gaze met YN’s. Clearly shocked, she stood completely still. Patty at her side, was offering a comforting presence by rubbing her shoulders. He searched for words to fill the void left by his brother's reckless outburst.

"Alrighty then,” Josh quipped, attempting to inject a dose of humor into the tense atmosphere, “seems like my brother has, in true Kiszka fashion, overindulged in the open bar." A few chuckles broke through the awkward silence, and he offered a sheepish grin, acknowledging the awkwardness that lingered. "You know how it is with rockstars, always a bit- unpredictable." The crowd responded with a mixture of laughter and relieved smiles, grateful for the comedic relief.

As Josh said a few more words, the music gradually resumed, filling the venue with lively beats once again. The party mood, momentarily disrupted by Jake's impulsive antics, slowly rekindled.

____

A few yards away from the vibrant venue, Sam and Danny grappled with Jake, who continued to argue drunkenly, his resistance growing more erratic with each step. The trio moved further away, the rhythmic waves providing a somber soundtrack to the guitarist's inebriated protests.

Eventually, Jake crumpled to the ground. His suit, now adorned with wet sand, presented a testament to his unwillingness to cooperate.

Danny sighed, glancing at Sam who, frustrated, chose to distance himself from the situation for a moment. Few things could truly irritate the youngest Kiszka, and the disruption of a good party just happened to be one of them.

Left alone with Jake, Danny stood silently by his sitting figure, his expression a mix of concern and frustration.

Sam returned after a brief respite, holding a glass filled with seawater. "That ought to sober him up," he declared, tossing the contents of the glass in Jake's face.

"Hey, what the fuck?" Jake sputtered, lurching to his feet abruptly. His venomous gaze settled on his younger brother, and in an instant, the atmosphere shifted. Jake, fueled by alcohol-induced bravado, was in a fighting mood.

Sam, unyielding, met Jake's gaze with a stern expression. "Just calm down, Jacob,” he urged, his tone firm but laced with brotherly concern, “You're making a fool of yourself.”

The stars overhead witnessed the unfolding drama, casting a gentle glow on the sand as the two youngest grappled with the complexities their bandmate’s emotions.

Jake stood defiantly, wet sand clinging to his clothes.

"Come on, man” Daniel's voice cut through the night, firm but gentle, “you have to know you were way out of line." He always served as the voice of reason, an anchor attempting to steady a ship tossed in turbulent waters.

In that moment, however, Jake couldn't help but despise the drummer's calm demeanor. He only wished for a spark, an ignition to match the wildfire within him, and his bandmate's rationality only seemed to fuel his own frustration.

"And what the fuck would you know about that, huh?" Jake spat with anger. His words edged with bitterness as he got up in Daniel’s face, "Always playing the calm, collected one, like you're above it all. Just back the fuck off." The night echoed with the strained conversation, the waves crashing against the shore.

Jake, fueled by a concoction of alcohol and resentment, wanted a release, a confrontation to validate the storm within him.

Daniel sighed, a weary acknowledgment of the futility of the situation. "We're just trying to help. You don’t want to do this."

Jake scoffed. Feeling the weight of his own frustration, he muttered in defeat, "Whatever.” The sand crunched beneath his shoes as he turned away, a solitary figure against the backdrop of a restless sea, “Just go back inside."

"Oh,” Sam sneered, “if you think we're about to leave you unsupervised after this shitshow, you are dead wr—"

"You should get back inside," someone interrupted from behind them. Jake's face dropped, recognizing the voice instantly. Sam and Danny turned around to see YN standing a few feet away with her arms crossed. An unreadable expression was etched on her face.

Sam and Danny exchanged glances. The tension hung in the air like a thick fog that refused to dissipate.

Sam sent YN a inquiring look. Are you sure? They respected YN's judgment, yet the worry lingered like a silent undercurrent beneath the surface. They were all too aware of Jake’s unpredictability when he drank too much.

She nodded wordlessly, her gaze shifting to Jake’s back. Her eyes, once filled with laughter and joy, now held a depth of emotion that was difficult to decipher. Sam and Danny eventually walked past her, offering apologetic smiles. They headed back into the bar, leaving Jake and YN alone on the moonlit beach.

The distant murmur of the party and the sound of waves crashing against the shore served as a backdrop to their silent standoff. The night held its breath, caught between the residue of a disrupted celebration and the muted tension.

With his back still turned, Jake closed his eyes.

The stillness was finally broken by YN, unable to bear the quiet any longer. "Aren't you gonna say anything?” Her tone was sharp, a mixture of bitterness and anger lacing each word, “you seemed to have a lot to say back there."

Jake flinched, the gravity of his actions washing over him like the freezing tide. Slowly, he turned around to face her. There she stood, arms crossed against the night chill, her hair gently swaying in the wind. Goosebumps adorned the delicate skin of her arms as she seemed to shiver against the breeze. The moonlight cast a melancholic glow on her features, framing a face etched with disappointment. Caught off guard by her candor, Jake struggled to find the right words.

"I—" he began, but before he could complete the thought, she sprung towards him.

"I cannot believe you would do this to me," she spat, her words cutting through the night air like shards of glass. A forceful push against Jake’s chest caused him to stumble backward, "you, fucking asshole!" The sting of her words hung in the air as she continued to unleash her frustration.

Jake, attempted to downplay the situation with a dismissive sigh. "Come on, no one will remember a thing in the morning," he remarked, reaching out to grab her wrists to stop the damage.

YN struggled against his grip, her eyes ablaze with a mix of anger and hurt. Feeling the weight of her gaze, Jake's eyes met hers, and for a fleeting moment, he saw the hurt reflected in her eyes. "Come on, it's a just party, for Christ's—"

"That's not the issue here!" she asserted, pulling away from him. "Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you? How could you pull that crap?" Her voice wavered slightly, and he could feel the weight of her hurt settling in his chest. "Why even bother coming?" she shook her head in disbelief, "If you were just going to—"

"Well, it's not exactly like we'll have that many opportunities to see each other,” he spat, the bitterness in his words slicing through the night air like venom, “once you officially become Mrs. Styles."

"Yes, I am getting married!" she yelled in frustration. "I know that! And I tried doing what I could to make it easy on you, but—" she paused, her words hanging in the air like a heavy curtain, "Honestly? I don't even know why I should anymore. We broke up ages ago—"

"Yeah, and whose fault was that?" he interjected, his tone accusing and filled with a bitterness that had long festered in the shadows of their past. The charged atmosphere between them crackled, the pain of their shared memories surfacing like ghosts in the moonlit night.

YN's reaction cut through Jake, the hurt evident in her downturned gaze. In that moment, regret gnawed at him, his impulsive words now a bitter aftertaste. He knew well that their breakup had been entirely his doing, fueled by demons of his own making. But the anger, amplified by the drink, had led him down a senseless path.

“Believe it or not," she stated, "things were as difficult for me as they may have been for you.” Her voice was a mix of hurt and frustration, "I honestly thought we'd outgrown all of that. But- you—saying that shit about me, in front of my friends, my colleagues, m-my future stepfamily? What is wrong with you? That’s just—” she shook her head, “do you really despise me that much?" he flinched at her words, guilt settling heavy on his conscience.

"Of course, not—" he started.

"Do you hate me so much that you can't stand, let it only be, the thought of me finally being at peace?" Her words pierced through him, each syllable carrying a vulnerability that echoed in the stillness of the night.

"No, that's not it—" he tried to explain, a desperate attempt to bridge the gap between them.

"Well then, what the fuck is it, huh?" she demanded, frustration evident in her voice. "A few months ago, everything was fine, we were fin-"

"You wouldn't get it!" he snapped.

"Well, I sure as hell won't get it if you refuse to talk to me," she retorted in exasperation. Almost six years down the line and they were still stuck, facing the same issues they did on day one.

Despite his strong front, Jake remained silent, the weight of his emotions stifling any coherent response. "Jake—” she continued, calmly, “you—this past couple of years, us- managing to be- to get along, it’s been so good, I’d missed it so much," she confessed, stepping closer until her chest touched his. Her eyes sought his, "I’d missed you so much, but this? This angry, bitter jackass? I don't want him in my life,” she scowled. Her words cut through him like shards of glass, each syllable a painful reminder of the person he had become in that moment. “And yes, I know, it probably sucks having an ex get married first but- Jesus Christ, Jacob, grow the fuck up. We're friends, aren't we?"

He clenched his jaw, his throat tightening as he struggled to contain the whirlwind of emotions. Stepping away, he attempted to shield the tears that threatened to escape.

“Aren’t we?” she repeated, her voice breaking. A fragile silence lingered in the night.

"Just—" he finally muttered, his voice laced with a bitterness that mirrored the bitterness within him, “just go back to your fucking party,"

The sadness on her face slowly morphed back into anger. She gulped, her resolve finding new strength.

"Gladly," she spat, turning on her heels to walk back to the bar.

He clenched his jaw, hands on his hips, frustration and self-loathing churning within him as he watched her retreating figure. In a futile attempt to reclaim some semblance of control, he shouted out, "Fuck you!"

She didn’t bother turning around, but without missing a beat, she shouted back. "Well, fuck you too!"

____

Jake sat on the sand alone. The weight of the night’s events settled heavily on his shoulders as the alcohol-induced fog slowly dissipated. The crashing waves seemed to echo the turbulent thoughts swirling in his mind.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" a voice erupted, and Jake didn't bother looking up, recognizing the tone of his twin brother. Josh sat down next to him, a mixture of frustration and concern etched on his face. "An asshole, too."

"Yeah, right," Jake scoffed, bitterness coloring his words. "I'm the asshol—"

"She doesn't know," Josh cut him off, gently. The words hung in the air: a heavy truth finally spoken aloud. Josh, with his intuitive understanding, had always read his twin better than anyone.

"Please," Jake eventually muttered, his voice low and strained. "Of course, she does."

"How could she?" Josh retorted; frustration evident in his expression. Jake had watched as YN got in the stable, healthy relationship he had failed to give her. And he had sat patiently as she stepped towards the life of a married woman. Yet, through it all, he had remained silent, failing to express the one thing she’d needed to hear.

"Yeah, well," Jake mumbled, eventually, clearing his throat as he stared off into the distance, "It's not like I can do anything about it now."

Josh remained silent. His brother had a point. The opportunity to come clean had passed, and the consequences of his silence weighed heavily.

"Come on," Josh said finally, getting up on his feet and brushing the sand off his suit. "I'll drive you back to the hotel."

"You're a bridesman,” Jake said, “isn't it your job to be here?"

"My job” Josh stated, “was to make sure everything went smoothly for Y/N, which I miserably failed to do tonight, thanks to you, brother. Now, come on," he held his hand out, a silent invitation, "I'll drive back here once you're in bed."

Jake chewed on his lower lip, his gaze fixed on the sand beneath him. He finally asked hesitantly, "Shouldn't I go and apologize first?"

Josh chuckled sadly, a knowing expression on his face. It was always impossible to stay mad at his twin for long. "It's probably better to give her some space right now."

____

"Alright," Josh called out, his eyes on his phone as he texted Sam, informing him he was on his way back. The ride to the hotel had been quiet and Jake had collapsed on the hotel bed the second they arrived. "I put aspirin and water on the table, your phone is charging and—" he stopped abruptly as he heard a muffled sound, his eyes lifting from the screen.

"I—" Jake muttered shakily, the word barely escaping his closed throat, as Josh approached his bedside. "I just- I don't know what to do," he managed to get the words out of his closed throat.

Josh didn't need more to understand what that meant, his heart breaking at his brother’s unusual display of vulnerability. He knew the pain that must’ve been tearing him apart. The admission hung in the air, a poignant acknowledgment of the emotional turmoil that swirled within him.

Jake had had his fair share of flings after their breakup, and he had expected YN doing the same. After all, she was nothing short of incredible, and admirers were bound to line up at her door. But marriage? That was a different realm entirely. Marriage meant forever. Marriage was the final nail in the coffin of what they once shared.

Josh sat silently at the side of the bed as Jake, exhausted both physically and emotionally, slowly succumbed to sleep.

“Me neither, Jakey,” Josh eventually whispered, pulling a blanket over his twin, “me neither.”

Next Track: All You Had To Do Was Stay

Series Masterlist

Hope you liked it! Once again, I am begging you all to interact and leave comments it makes me so happy to get feedback and reactions xxx

Also, this is only the beginning lol. I have a billion drafts for other chapters so stay tuned, peaceful army.

Taglist

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felassan · 1 month

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I was sent a link to a ‘chat with Mark Darrah' interview video that I hadn’t seen before. [here is the source] link. the interview took place in 2022, so bear that in mind when listening, but it still has interesting insights and things in there.

the rest of this post is under a cut due to length.

this post is just some brief notes and a few transcribed quotes of interest from the video.

Mark ofc was in charge of DA:O, DAII, & DA:I, then, quote, “then a bunch of malarkey happened” and he ended up in charge of Anthem in 2017 in its final ~16 months

In AAA games narrative is a certain thing that was very much defined in a lot of ways by BioWare

There’s a BioWare story in Anthem (though certainly not its best), if you just ignore everything else

The average gamer puts way too much stock into what engine is used to make a game

Mark is pretty sure that the guts of Neverwinter Nights is underneath the Witcher engine

Moving DA from Aurora to Eclipse to Frostbite (engines) opened up more possibility spaces

Frostbite stagnated because it essentially was the engine everyone had to use at EA

Before DA:I, there was a game at BioWare internally codenamed “Blackfoot”. It was going to be a multiplayer DA game and was using Frostbite before DA:O, during the time of DAII’s late development but before DA:I started development. It never shipped as it got eaten by DA:I

For the MET, Casey was originally trying to make a Star Control-type game but cinematic. Echoes of this can be seen in ME1. But ME the IP itself wants to be a space opera. Ultimately the cinematic experience side of it won out

And some specific quotes:

“Something that I noticed is that, sometimes, if your studio is hiring only your biggest fans, which I saw at BioWare sometimes, those people are in some ways, they’re almost more, they have more zealotry towards the ‘old way’ of doing things than – that’s right, that [from a fandom point of view] is all they know. And they don’t necessarily know that this was awful or that ‘there could have been a better way, we just didn’t see it until later’. All they know is, ‘this is what you did, and you made this thing I love, so we have to do that too’, and, so that’s a danger that could happen is, you get the, you know the monkeys and the bananas, like, ‘I don’t even know why we’re doing this anymore, but I know we’ve always done it.’”

“The biggest reason to consolidate on an engine is for the ability to share more work within your studio. In theory.” “The problem that often happens is that you end up with not nearly as much sharing as you would imagine. FIFA doesn’t share anything with DA. And in BioWare’s case it’s even worse than that, there’s very little sharing between DA:I and ME:A, and between ME:A and Anthem. A lot of troubles ME:A and Anthem had is [because of] not building upon the foundations of DA:I.”

“My great frustration of BioWare from around 2013 to basically today [2022], there wasn’t a building upon the past.” “30% of DA:I’s tech budget was spent on tooling. On ME:A they didn’t build upon the tools that were laid by DA:I, partially because they started before DA:I shipped, but also for ‘Not Build Here’ reasons. They spent 10-15% approximately of their budget on tools. Anthem didn’t build on either of these foundations and they spent about less than 10% of their budget on tools. So it was like they were going backwards, respecting the engine less and less as they went forward, resulting in more and more struggles happening.” “I have the most sarcastic PowerPoint presentation ever which compares those two games, which are treated as if they’re widely different things. They’re pretty much exactly the same game, from the perspective of any external observer. ME is more like DA than it is like anything else. So it’s ridiculous. The answer is hubris, is the answer.”

On endings and the future:

“I think you have to do something [about the endings]. ME was always conceived as being a trilogy, but I think what you actually end up with with ME1-3, if you kind’ve just stick them together into one ridiculously big game, that’s why it, in some ways, the complaints about the original ME3 ending are so hilarious because in a way, the game ME3 is the ending for this entire huge game, which isn’t awesome, because you know, the last Hobbit movie is also stupid because it’s all ending. So, that’s not necessarily the best, but that’s essentially what you have. So because it was intended as a trilogy, it, to some kind of degree it kind of takes its ball and goes home at the end, where its like, ‘I’m gonna render the possibility of a direct sequel to this sooo nearly impossible that it’s ludicrous’. It could be that, so we know that the Mass Relays are down, that’s also true, but, like, we have potentially, everyone’s a cyborg, potentially there are no robots, potentially, potentially, potentially, it’s bananas. But interestingly, if you look at ME1, ME2 and ME3 as a single game, and then you look at DA:O, DA:O was always, was originally envisioned as a standalone game. There was never even a consideration for a sequel made for that. If you look at DA:O and then look at what it does at its ending, so the ending of the game itself is fairly tight, it’s like, well you definitely have to kill the Arch Demon, and you’ve ended the Blight, but then you go through the end credits stuff, the epilogue screens. And it’s like, maybe there’s a civil war happening in Orzammar, maybe there are werewolves spreading across this entire part of Ferelden, maybe there are no werewolves at all. Like it’s similar. Now what DA, the way that DA approached the solution to that was to canonize some of those choices, but for the most part just move away, far enough physically, so it’s like, okay, well maybe there are werewolves down south there, that’s not my problem, I got my own problems. Or it moves through time, which is one of the reasons why DA2 moves through so much time is, it gives distance from DA:O. One of the major reasons why ME:A is literally hundreds of years in the future and in another galaxy, it’s like, okay, well, something happened, [shrug], we can react if we want to but we don’t have to worry about the consequences. DA has had the same problem that ME had, just to a lesser degree. DA:O did such a great job of building up the Warden that people are really attached to that and they keep wanting to see the Warden come back. People are never gonna let go of Shepard. DA, new player characters every time because it allows things to be done, but there are costs to that, if you don’t have nearly the [same] attachment. I mean, there’s a reason why every single Zelda game starts with you as Link getting bonked on the head. They’ve essentially solved the problem, reset button, either you have amnesia or you’re like the great-great-great-great-grandson. So it’s like, maybe there’s a way that they can do something like that, but Zelda’s jumped through a lot of hoops that probably a modern game can’t be allowed to do. You’re “Link”, so maybe there’s a way that you can be Shepard but, but Shepard, you can be “Shepard”, maybe there’s a way you can do that, but yeah, it’ll be interesting, it’s definitely a problem that they have. Because certainly, Ryder from ME:A is not the same character, nor could any character from a single game compete with a character from three games. Maybe the approach is, you canonize the choices from MET and you say, ‘and the choice we’re making is, Shepard made it, and you’re Shepard. [shrug]”

“I think there is a lot of DNA of its older games still at BioWare, but you’re right. Every game needs to be a game in its moment. It needs to be appropriate to the time and space of what’s going on. So, I get it, you kind of just want to feel the thing you felt when you played ME2 or feel the thing you felt when you played DA:O.” “If suddenly you got an ME2 again magically appearing out of the ether, I don’t think it would be received the same way. The industry isn’t in the same place. BioWare needs to set a new bar.” “The sad truth is, the older you get, the less relevant a part of the buying demographic you are. So the reality is, I mean ME:A had a shaky launch unfortunately, but it’s a lot of peoples’ favorite ME. Mostof those people who it is their favorite ME are younger people because it targets, you know, it’s got a younger PC, it’s got a stronger, more. I mean, the MET is very much, Shepard is a hero from action movies from the 80s and 90s, for millennials. He’s stoic. Whereas Ryder is definitely, he’s much more a protagonist from a CW show. The reality is is that, sorry, but they’re not trying to make it for you anymore.”

[source and full watch link where you can check it out]

#dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #mass effect #mass effect: andromeda #next mass effect #anthem #video games #longpost #long post #(ty for sending the link!)

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blood-injections · 7 months

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Ooookay killjoy suitehearts masterpost here we go, been putting this together for a while now since everyone started posting their suitehearts stuff..

So I kinda have two versions of stories for them, i mean thats the great thing about writing and headcanons is that they can varie from story to story but anyway! this is like their main story and what I'll write if I ever get to writing a story focused on them, and varients of it will be similar with some like little changes if theyre more like background characters in something. But the two versions rn are just this main one and a slightly differing one for some other stuff in my drafts bc this main one is focused in the city bc the suitehearts are just such an underground rebel crew to me versus loud and proud killjoys in the desert, while the variation story is one where they are in the desert, or at least theyre like split between the city and desert, you'll see.

Some like basics before I get into their individual stuff, yeah they have, well mostly have their crazy looks, they're a crew of theater kids lol, not really they just have a sense of whimsy. I'll post art of each of my designs for them eventually their outfits arent as crazy because they have to like be able to fight and run and shit in them, but they stick with the colors and facepaint, because facepaint throws off facial recognition scanners so that the cameras cant track them, so they might as well have fun with it, and they turn it into part of their killjoyesque personas, the facepaint becomes them, marks them as crew and their personas kind of become characters in urban legends that everyone in the citys heard of.

ANYWAY

Dr. Benzedrine

Dr. Benzedrine? More like Mr. Medical Malpractice. Kidding. Mostly. He grew up in a wealthy family with parents that were good citizens and he always wanted to be a scientist or a doctor, to help people, and he was smart and they had money, so he was able to get into school and be just that. To learn all about science and medications and surgery and over the years he moved up the ranks, until he was one of the best surgeons in the city, and one thing about doctors, especially surgeons is that they have to be clear minded, not drugged up and foggy headed. And one thing about being good, about being a respected professional? Its like being an exterminator, you're never off the hook but the people in charge? They dont care as much about the state of your head, as long as you're loyal. So Benzedrine has benefits, and one of them is getting clean, of the decidedly mind altering stuff at least. But with clarity of mind for the first time in his life comes horrifying realization, because as a respected surgeon, he sees shit, because hes working in places that screams echo down the halls of and he can just tell that somethings wrong. He snoops and learns of re-education and of what happens to captured killjoys, interrogations and experiments and those are people and hes sickened. The more he digs the more he learns and the more he develops an intense hatred for better living and maybe he starts.. doing experiments of his own. Beause he works on a lot of respected folks, a lot of higher ups. He never botches a surgery but he starts messing with things, fucks with something while hes at the operating table, something that can't be traced back to him but that'll take the patient out in say, a couple months.

He's never disgusted by what hes doing, only finds pride in it, and maybe his hatred has twisted him but he likes himself better that way. The officials catch him snooping, though, eventually, but luckily they don't expect a thing, especially not when hes grown a master at lying. Because he's a respected doctor that has in their minds proven himself loyal, and when he bullshits his way through them finding him snooping about the lower levels of the hospital, they're nothing but happy at the fact he's grown curious about re-education, in fact they show him around, tell him all about it, their words are all propaganda and lies about how they're helping the people there, of course, but he smiles and nods along and makes comments like he agrees wholeheartedly. They say if hes interested in helping these people too, they can get him a position. He asks of he can still be the top surgeon if he takes up this position too and they say of course! As long as he doesn't overwork himself theyd be glad to have him assert himself in different fields of research.

So, he starts working with the prisoners. Because thats what they are. He sees them come in beaten up and hissing and spitting and he gets to see them grow complacent as they forget their whole lives in favor of some made up sob story and how theyll be so much happier once they're introduced back into society after their treatments. They'll only go on to be sanitation workers or office nuts at best, maybe scarecrows if they seem smart, but half of them will probably be plagued with nightmares once thyre released, broken memories trying to break through the chemical haze. They'll relapse, snap, do something drastic and they'll either be dracced or sent right back here to repeat the process all over again. Re-education isn't a complete fix, a guarantee of normalcy. It'll never be, not as long as they're just traumatizing people and praying they stay comatose long enough to get work done.

Hes there when a new batch of them come in, delinquents from the rebel underground, he learns, which flips his world upside down, theres a rebel underground? And they're apparently dangerous enough to be treated like captured killjoys. He sees these new patients come in in bonds, theres five of them captued, some silent and glaring and the others screaming until theres a needle shoved in their neck.

His new position is that of a twisted sort o psychiatrist, they gave him a whole slideshow to get ready for it. It told him to get in their heads, learn the secrets that interrogations couldnt get out and replace them with better living propaganda, until theyre nothing but smiling citizens ready to be let back into society. It's fucking brainwashing, nothing but, he fucking hates it. But they trusted him to do it and now hes here, but since he's here maybe he can help. Not brainwash these people, but help them, and if theyre really part of a rebellion, maybe if he helps them get out they'll take him with them and he can help people that probably actually need it, not just rich assholes from the center city.

Thats his plan, and it works, it takes a while to get the patients to trust him but once they do, they all get out. Sandman, Crab, and Donnie were all part of that group and its how the four meet and bond and start becoming a crew. Dr Benzedrine picks his name and quickly becomes a very valued member of the resistance because theres medics, but no professionals, let alone surgeons.

Mr. Sandman

Street kid, his parents were ritalin rats that stirred up too much trouble and got dracced when he was pretty young. He was hiding under a bed when it happened and Better Living didn't find him, but they didn't bother looking because he was a poor autistic little kid that they saw no use in. So they left him to his empty shitty little apartment in the slums. They never kicked him out, so hes luckier than most that he still had a place to sleep, but once he ran out of food he had to head to the streets, figure out how to either get food or money to survive. He learned and he grew up dealing illegal merchandise, not as low as you could stoop, but pretty low, low enough that if you're busted you could get dracced. But it kept him just afloat enough to not starve.

Illegal merchandise is stuff like outlawed music and media, cds he burned himself off the originals, cassettes, vhs. Just whatever he could get his hands on. And when he could get a signal, he'd play the stuff over the old radio equipment in his basement, making sure to scramble where the signature was coming from, because he'd definitely be dracced if they found out he was putting that stuff on air. Not like it got out of the city, bli has shit that doesn't let any signals in or out, but once in a very rare while, he'll get some faint killjoy frequencies and record whatever he can onto cassettes.

But even though he was dealing in secret and even though he didn't want to be a cog in the machine, even though he wanted to be one of those juvie halls, the rebels on the streets that you can hear hollaring at night, throwing bricks at scarecrows and running off before facial recognition gets them, he strived to get into the Better Living Academy, because it hasn't crosed his mind that he might not be stuck in battery city yet, like most people that rebel, he doesn't want to be on his streets his whole life, so he tries getting in to learn anything, even to get some shitty cubicle job, as long as it means maybe he could actually afford more than the shit slum slop he pawns for. But at he end of the day, he isn't on his pills and he knows they won't like that if they find out, and they keep turning him away anyway for his temperment, for his oddities, because he's still autistic and the bright lights and white expanse of bli spaces make his head scream and he just doesn't get half the questions they ask him and if he has his own questions, they dont explain things furthur for him.

So he gives up on that plan, whatever, at least he's still got his shit to deal out, at least he isnt drugged up like everyone else he saw in the screening rooms for the academy, all empty in the head. He can think, at least. And he has his music, he likes music.

Then he meets Horseshoe Crab, a really weird fellow who takes most of his stock for a hefty handful of carbons that'll get him along for a couple weeks, and the guys so nice he's suspicious, until their deal is interrupted by an ambush, a patrol scarecrows that must've gotten a tip about them, and Horseshoe pulls out a fucking gun, shoots the two closest ones and takes sandmans arm and has him run. At that sandmans convinced the guys not nice at all, hes just fucking crazy, but he runs away after him anyway because the guy just shot two fucking crows, he knows he'll probably live to see morning of he sticks with him. Turns out Horseshoes a juvie hall, like an actual one, not the brash gangs of kids that run around and say they are, actual juvie halls are untraceable, a solid underground, a real rebellion, well hidden from Better Livings watchful eye, its something you have to be smart enough to find and brave enough to join. And sandmans thrust right into the center of it, just a street dealer that followed a crazy guy with a gun that pulled him into a safehouse in the slums that was down a maze of dark alleys, and theres so much illegal shit inside he kind of wants to call it in just for the hefty reward he could get, but he also kind of wants to drop to his knees and worship it all. Theres books, weapons, color. And a few rough looking people that at their sudden entrance, scan them and one goes. "Dammit, Crab."

Long story short, they're members of the fucking rebellion and theres a short but terrifying debate of whether or not to shoot him, but Horseshoe defends him and it turns out the rebellion likes people that risk their lives to deal rock and roll, because he basically gets an invitation. And well, that was his real dream, the one hes had since he was a little kid, wanting to be those unapologetic rebels in the street messing with bli for shits and giggles. This is obviously more than that, but still. So he accepts, and hes thrust into the center of it all. He has to prove he can be trusted by going on so many missions or passing along packages and illegal goods, but once he's proved hes no rat hes showed the base, how to get into the rebellion underground. Its a scattered maze of random apartments that are safehouses, and then the actual underground shit, the tunnels and whole rooms and shit, the stuff from what Battery City used to be that bli just built over and forgot about.

He and Horseshoe become quick friends and he learns that crabs not just a juvie hall but a zonerunner, that he risks his life sneaking in and out of the city to deliver news and supplies to the killjoys out in the desert and vise versa. Sandman turns out to be quite useful, because hes good with computers and especially, radio equipment, since he grew up with that stuff in his basement and copying all that music and playing some over the frequencies when he could, and he fixes up their old shit and becomes the radio operator of the underground rebellion, the voice of the voiceless. He's basically the cherri cola of battery city, as in hes given the task of feeding news to the juvie halls on the streets and so he's always on the air and monolauging what is just weird poetry or random stories to any untrained ears, but while cherri colas thing is actualy just poetry, sandmans is actually speaking entirely in code that only juvie halls will be able to pick apart, because PAX AM isn't some far off station in the zones like WKIL, no, it broadcasts from inside the walls of battery city and better living could always be listening in. Did I make this his thing entirely to play into the lyric all the walls lean in to listen? Maybe.

Hes actually known as Mr Sandman now, took the codename when he became their radio operator, but the suitehearts aren't a thing yet, no, thats still a long way off. Benzedrine isn't even part of the rebellion yet. He also gets his distinct style, encuraged by the juvie halls who just like killjoys push for everyone to be an individual and fuck the citys mandates, so goth gnc bitch it is. The longer hes in the underground the more disconnected from gender he gets.

There's a raid to the underground, someone must have tipped bli off. A solid blow is dealt to the rebellion in the form of a good number of juvie halls being captured, sandman one of them. Now being some low level dealer can get you dracced, but being a real juvie hall gets you something much worse, re-education, because you have to be smart to be a rebel and have survived this long, and bli can use those smarts, as long as they tear you down to a blank slate first. Thats what re-education is, picking you apart piece by piece, drugging you up and pouring propaganda and altered history down your throat until youre a 'functioning member of society'

He's assumed dead or beyond saving from the mindfuck of re-education by the remaining rebellion, who after this bust has to move base to a different part of the city. But about six months after he was taken and the radio went silent, his voice mysteriously reappears, speaking in code about the old base, where the escaped suitehearts went back to and found abandoned as they expected it to be, but had hopes of scrounging old supplies or this, broadcasting their return.

The juvie halls find them and bring them and the radio equipment to the new base, and Mr Sandman is officially the voice of the voiceless again, now with a crew.

Eventually they get fancy tech or an antennae or something thats just strong enough to get a signal out to the zones, and theres always been a slow feed of news between the killjoys and the juvie halls via zonerunners, and the cnnectiom can still be stratchy, but now on the good days Sandman can talk directly to doctor death defying to get news out to the zones and vice versa.

Horseshoe Crab

The only sand pup of the suitehearts, grew in the zones with his dad, who was in the helium wars, but he was dusted when Crab was about eight and he went right to gravel gerties, where he stayed until he joined a group of the older kids when they left gertie to go on their own, and let him tag along even if he was the youngest of them by far. They were all crash queens and glitter brains and he put up with them for a while, but eventually drifted off on his own, and was sixteen when he forst got hired by Tommy to meet with some runners in zone one when they cane outta the walls and to help them get their supplies back to his shop. These jobs always paid well, with either his share of supplies or a handful of carbons, so he kept doing them and eventually tagged along with the runners to go in-city to the rebels there. He liked it there, oddly enough, liked meeting so many different types of rebels, because killjoys are.. killjoys. Theyre all gearheads and glitterbrains but juvie halls tend to be more serious while still having fun. They understand the risk of what they do. Killjoys are just kids with guns, they have growing up to do or things to lose before theyre level headed enoughfor Crab to feel lile he gets them.

So it becomes his thing, zonerunning, getting supplies out to Tommy's and news into the city and vise versa, he makes friends in the underground and eventually meets sandman, then gets caught with him and meets the others too. He isnt around all the time, still does runs, and takes Benzedrine in and out with him if theres someone in the zones that desperately needs a real doctor.

Donnie the Catcher

Hell of an engineer, even figures out robotics, he grew up working in a garage in the neon district, and as he got older, started helping out androids that needed repairs in secret. Its looked down upon to help androids, simce theyre not human and not seen as human, and thats what their service hubs are for, to request repairs, but he knows theres no real help there, not if they're an older model or anything other than some high ups customized pornodroid. Most droids just end up recycled in the incinerators or rusting in the streets, so he does what he can to help when they start falling apart.

He doesn't agree with bli, with how he treats these people, and when a service droid named Jenny that he's helped a handful of times invites him to the underground, because droids can be juvie halls too, theyve gotta be fukin brave to be, because where human juvie halls will be reducated or dracced, rebelling droids will just be shot for going against their programming. Donnie tells Jenny he has to stay and support his family at the garage, but if he can help out he'd be glad to as long as he can get back to the garage at the end of the day. Thats how he becomes a juvie hall. One day down the line he heads to the base and he was there for maybe a half hour when the raid happened and he was captured with the others. He was newer than sandman and crab and had never really crossed paths with them since he didnt spend a whole lot of time in the underground, so hes meeting them for the first time when theyre brought in for re-education. He was one of the ones that stayed quiet and glared, mostly worried about Jenny, that they were there and maybe caught in the raid, becaue she may be all metal but they totally kissed a couple times.

When they all escape he becomes a full time resident in the underground, knowing he can never go back to the garage a fugitive. But not seeing his family is better than the alternative of having been reducated and torn apart at the seams. Besides, once he's got the suitehearts, they're all inseparable.

That's it, once they're a crew, all their experiences and skills combined, they're a unique group for sure. Sandman and Crab already have their own looks and weird relstionships with gender, but Donnie and Benz have never put much thought into the individuality stuff, Benz a slave to Better Living his whole life and Donnie focused on working and surviving. Eventually they find their weird styles, colors theyre fond of as a fuck you to bli, and then the facepaint, it marks them as a crew and as people ready to fight for their cause. Anyway what if I said Donnie transfem she/he(and yes. rocking the beard) :3

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As for the second version, its mostly the same, its just like.. the zones version for stories where they know they fab four. They're all younger and they're basically split between the city and the zones. Their backstories are pretty much the same except Benzedrine got out before he was even really a surgeon, hes still a damn good doctor though, and Sandman left to be a killjoy instead of sticking around the underground. Crabs still a zonerunner that gets Benz in and out to help people and when hes in the desert he bunks with sandman in his concession stand turned weird little trailer in the outskirts of zone two. And Donnies zoneborn too instead of Mrs androidfucker in the city, shes Sandman's good friend and mechanic when he gets into racing at the crash track. They're all good friends and still very much a crew, theyre based out of he zones, Benz too, theyre just still a bit spread out at times when someone in the underground needs help.

Ugh man is there anything missing idk well if there is I guess I can add it later. Okay the end 👍

#americas suitehearts #the suitehearts #dr benzedrine #mr sandman #donnie the catcher #horseshoe crab #ttlotfk #danger days #the true lives of the fabulous killjoys #corvidscrap

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la-pheacienne · 8 months

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It is certainly true that the show has done a lot to force an unbearable climate onto the remaining book fans, but on the other hand you could also wonder - why is such a large part of this remaining book fandom so hell-bent on fanatically supporting the most stupid, toxic ideas we have seen the show to embrace? I would say as stupid as these plot points were, few of the basic, broad ideas Dave and Dan went for were really things they made up all on their own. Mad Queen theories, the distorted view of so many characters like Arya and so on, these all were echoing things a lot of book fans (the type of milieu many of the people in charge of HBO's output were bred in) always WANTED the story and the characters and their trajectory to be, regardless how well founded these wishes matched the actual text.

The show was echoing bad fanon rooted in the book scene more or less from the beginning, you can trace it directly to how some characters were presented and castings were chosen right from the start. That's also why if you listen more closely to so many of the less bearable people in the book scene, the REAL problem so many of them had with the ideas of the latter parts of the show was that it was done in such a way that the public thought it was trash and didn't accept it. The whole agenda of them is now hoping for the books to emerge as some better written version of the show that finally will convince them all that this worthless trash story that is ironically only loved and wanted by these people alone is actually the correct version of it and its characters everyone should finally accept and digest. As ridiculous as the show was, ironically the most ridiculous parts of it were in truth clumsily made fan service for the worst sentiments that were peddled by and nurtured within the book fandom.

Oh, for sure. Thank you for this ask because you have put into words something that has been turning in my head for a long time.

the REAL problem so many of them had with the ideas of the latter parts of the show was that it was done in such a way that the public thought it was trash and didn't accept it.

After almost a year on tumblr and observing the book fandom and reading the BNFs' metas and theories and fanons and briefly delving into reddit and twitter god forbid, I have to say that I agree with you. I can't say how it was in the past though, I wasn't here. But I am afraid it is exactly as you say it is. I mean, Dany's arc from a hero to a fallen hero to a villain because *she watched her abusive brother die without an emotional reaction, psychopath!*, Jon just randomly exiled beyond the Wall because *subverting expectations*, none of them becoming King/Queen of the Seven Kingdoms/KINT, not even BRIEFLY, not even during the War for the Dawn (ok Jon did), because *throne bAAAAD*, *they're not heroes no one can fix Westeros*, *monarchy bAAAAD*, *subverting expectations*, Sansa getting girlbossified because *subverting expectations*, all of these points that ****supposedly*** sucked in GoT, are the exact same theories shared by a very big and very loud part of the BNF here, if not the majority.

So, what exactly is the internet fandom's problem with the show? Is there any? I literally can't see it, except that it was done too quickly and thus made these stupid theories appear even more stupid than they initially were. I've seen a LOT of posts saying like "oh you should stop wishing for your fav to get the throne, no one will get the throne and no one is 'in the right' (especially in the fire and blood discourse), no one 'deserves' it, the throne will crush and burn, the show has done so much damage to the fandom pitting favs against each other for the throne" etc etc, but that's so funny to me because what they say will happen in the books is literally what happened in the show, at least roughly, and their vibe was the vibe of a huge part, if not the majority, of the show fandom. This super annoying nihilism that I see in (book) BNF right now is the exact.same.nihilism I remember from the show fandom. The exact same one, but with a faux-feminist rosey Stansa touch. That's it. From the "Your heros will not get the throne, losers, Littlefinger will kill them all and prevail, the end" show-only dudebro rationale we went to the "oh nobody can fix Westeros, Dany and Jon will sacrifice themselves (best case, worst case Dany will get all psycho like her daddy and bros), monarchy Targs BAD, Targ feudal system BAD, fuck the Targ lords, team small folk, only coincidentally my fav bbgrl Sansa will actually end up in a conventional and strictly feudal position of power uwu, the end". The common denominator? Nihilism and this obsession for subverting expectations. This parallel is even funnier with hotd, where the show's most non-sensical, straight up delulu plot points are whole-heartedly embraced by, again, a big and very loud part of the BNF (probably the majority). This time the concordance is direct and not even denied, and it's embarrassing when I see their half-ass attempts at criticizing the show, because they literally can't. They actually love it and it's so obvious.

So to get to your point, there are two possibilities here: either the show's nihilistic, faux-edgy, shock value-based direction irrevocably transformed the book fandom, or the book fandom was already in that mindset and the show was based on that and it could very well be the latter.

#anonymous #asoiaf #daenerys targaryen #jon snow #aspa rambles

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fionajames · 4 months

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circus au headcanons

A/N: Hey lovelies, hope your all fantastic! Have some circus au headcanons! Please send requests, I'm desperate. Please!

Jedi Caravan:

Yoda, ringmaster: short man with long green and white hair, long green and white beard, green eyes and light skin.

Mace, second in command: tall man with brown skin, amber eyes, bald.

Shaak: tall woman with rosey skin, white birthmarks that look markings, long blue and white hair, yellow eyes. Aunt or some decent relation of Ahsoka.

Kit: man with long, afro green hair, dark eyes, dark skin.

Ki-Adi: man with light skin, blue eyes, bald.

104th Caravan

Plo: man with dark skin, short black hair, amber eyes.

Wolffe: boy with short black hair, one brown eye one robotic grey eye, tan skin.

Sinker: boy with short black hair, brown eyes, tan skin.

Comet: boy with short black hair, brown eyes, tan skin.

Boost: boy with short black hair, brown eyes, tan skin.

212th Caravan

Obi-Wan: man with ginger hair, ginger beard, light freckled skin, blue eyes

Cody: boy with short black hair, brown eyes, tan skin, scar on forehead

Waxer: usual appearance (i forgot)

Boil: usual appearance (i forgot)

Trapper: boy with short black hair, brown eyes, tan skin.

501st Caravan

Anakin: boy with medium length brown hair, blue eyes, light skin, scar over right eye.

Ahsoka: girl with orangey-tan skin, cream marking-like birthmarks, blue eyes, braided blue and white hair

Rex: boy with blonde buzzcut, tan skin, brown eyes

Jesse: boy with brown eyes, tan skin, bald

Fives: boy with brown eyes, tan skin, short black hair

Echo: boy with brown eyes, tan skin, short black hair

Tup: boy with brown eyes, tan skin, long black hair

Hardcase: boy with brown eyes, tan skin, bald

Members of other Caravans (only a few, doesn’t include all members.)

Depa: woman with long brown hair, brown eyes, olive skin

Caleb: boy with short brown hair, brown eyes, light skin

Cal: boy with scruffy ginger hair, blue eyes, light freckled skin

Jaro: man with short purple hair, dark skin, purple eyes

Barris: girl with long braided black hair, charcoal skin, green eyes, black freckles

Luminara: woman with short black hair, charcoal skin, green eyes, black freckles

THOSE ARE ROUGHLY THE MAIN MEMBERS OF THE CIRCUS, BUT THERE ARE MORE

HEADCANONS NOW

Okay so, basically, the Republic’s circus (idk) is being funded by a wealthy man named Sheev Palpatine. Secretly, Palpatine is not only funding, but in charge of the Separatists’ circus.

Most droids are in the Circus au, usually either horses, dogs or occasionally cats.

A man named Jango Fett had a very large family with lots of sons and cousins and one daughter. No one knows why there are so many boys.

All the family apart from Jango and the youngest generation died, and then so did Jango, leaving them all orphaned. At that time, the circus was coming through their town, so many of them joined.

Most circus members are orphans or runaways.

Luminara and Barriss are probably very distantly related, same with Shaak and Ahsoka.

Younger circus members are apprenticed to older members.

Qui-Gon was killed by a criminal on the run named Maul, who had actually been part of the Separatist circus. He killed Qui-Gon because he was guarding the money box.

A month before that, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had found Anakin and his mother Shmi. Shmi was very broke and decided her son would have a better life with them.

Padme and the rest of the senate are basically just wealthy people.

Padme and Anakin met two weeks after Qui-Gon adopted him. They meet up whenever they can. The relationship is sort-of-forbidden, very frowned upon because the wealthy people like the circus for entertainment and then think the people are poor and peasants.

Everyone in the circus knows Padme and Anakin are dating, even though they think no one knows. It’s very obvious.

If the Separatists and the Republic are in the same area, fights often break out. People sometimes die, but its more common for people to get seriously injured and leave the circus.

The Separatists kidnapped Echo as a hostage and everyone thought he ran away but some new Jango-spawn members to the circus, Fives, Rex, Anakin and Ahsoka found him and brought him back.

Ahsoka left the circus at one point for a month after being accused of a robbery the Separatists committed but returned quickly.

Some of the Jango-spawn (Fox, Thorn, Thire, etc) work for Palpatine as his guards, cause he’s a rich bitch.

Some members - if not orphans or runaways - like Anakin were simply given over in hopes of a better life. Ahsoka was one of these, also because her parents feared they weren’t good enough at being parents when she was taken by a mountain lion.

Ahsoka and Shaak come from an Indigenous tribe, and their teeth are more pointed and they still have their fangs. They hunt deer mostly, and cook it over the fire to eat. Their tribe are called Togrutas.

Obi-Wan was an orphan and found by Mace, who took him back to the Circus.

Obi-Wan and Anakin have an acrobatics act, whilst Ahsoka does Equestrian Vaulting. Rex and Cody play music. Jesse, Fives and Hardcase have a comedy act. After the show, a lot of the members busk to get extra money.

Fives and Ahsoka were messing around one day when they stumbled upon the Separatists camp. They were looking around when they saw Palpatine. They rushed back and told Yoda that they were being played.

Yoda cut the deal with Palpatine and made a deal with Bail Organa instead. It later turned out Palpatine was a wanted criminal, and he was sentenced to a life-sentence in a prison far away.

Palpatine’s Guard split, either joining the Republic’s circus or choosing to guard Bail. Bail treated them much, much better.

Palpatine was also Mayor of the town, so when he was arrested, Bail took his place. Bail made it legal for the circus to marry the richer folk, claiming it was foolish and unkind, for no reason. Secretly, he knew of Padme and Anakin’s relationship, and wanted his best friend to be happy.

A few months later, Padme gave birth to twins. The Circus was still travelling, so Padme convinced Obi-Wan, Ahsoka and Anakin to live at her house part-time. When the circus was close, they lived with the circus. When it was far away, they usually stayed with Padme. Ahsoka managed to convince Rex to do the same.

Anakin revealed that Palpatine had tried to get him to join the Separatists' circus before Fives and Ahsoka had discovered the betrayal. Palpatine had told him he controlled both, and that he would have more money and be closer to Padme if he joined them. However, Anakin hadn’t turned, as he loved his family too much.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed, please send requests!!!

#the clone wars #tcw #clones #501st legion #clone troopers #captain rex #anakin skywalker #ahsoka #star wars #clone wars #212th battalion #obi wan #obi wan kenobi #ahsoka tano #circus #circus au #circus gar au #ka’ra writes ❤️

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