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moonstruckbucky · 4 years

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The Recruit (2/?)

Summary: Becoming a SHIELD agent had been your dream and finally, you’ve achieved it. You’re at the top of your class in every field except one—hand to hand combat, and it doesn’t impress Captain Rogers in the slightest. Instead, it seems to convince him you’re useless, setting off a tense relationship between the two of you. In an effort to bridge the gap, Bucky offers to help you train to earn your way back into Steve’s good graces. What could possibly go wrong?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader x Bucky Barnes (not Stucky)

Warnings: Some language. More angst a la Steve.

Notes: I don’t do taglists so please don’t ask.

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Steve’s beginning to wonder if he should see Dr. Cho. Headaches have plagued him almost every day since he humiliated you in the gym. He knows that’s exactly what he did, and he almost felt compelled to commend you for keeping your cool in front of Bucky and the other agents. He also knows his treatment of you was more than a little unfair, but his ego wouldn’t allow him to rein it in. You had to learn, had to toughen up. If you couldn’t, you were useless to him and to SHIELD.

His uniform is tight across his chest as he straps in - a last minute mission mandated by Director Hill to scope out potential Hydra activity. He chose Bucky to accompany him, knowing the brunet has been itching to whoop some Hydra ass.

Now, Bucky stands in the jet, strapped to the nines in black leather and weapons, both visible and concealed. His dark arm glows under the blue lighting in the jet. He looks ready for a fight.

“You got this, right?” he asks. He knows he doesn’t need to, that Bucky wouldn’t have agreed if he didn’t think he could handle it. But he does anyways, just because.

“Yeah, piece a’ cake,” is Bucky’s reply as he cracks the knuckles of his flesh hand. “Let’s see how they feel about Frosty the Snowman exacting his revenge.”

Steve remembers when Bucky was afraid to joke about his time as the Winter Soldier. It hadn’t been too long ago, really, that he was shying away from anyone who dared utter the moniker or even Hydra. Now that he’s in recovery, he’s found dark humor in his experiences, can make a little light of what he’d gone through.

Steve aims a pointed look at his friend. “We’re not killing anybody, Buck. This is just intel.”

Bucky scoffs, waves dismissively. “We say that every time, and then every time, shit goes south. And if this was “just intel”, you would’ve brought one of the rookies to test them out - not me.”

“None of the rookies are ready for a mission yet,” he retorts, sliding his hands into his gloves. Bucky raises his eyebrows, feels a little wary about what he’s going to say next.

“Agent L/N seems to be able to handle herself.”

If Bucky wasn’t so in tune to both his best friend and in people’s body language, he would’ve missed the way Steve’s entire body goes rigid. Instead, he crosses his arms as Steve makes a show out of a long silence, purposely hesitating in responding.

“Agent L/N needs improvement,” is what he finally settles on. Then, because he’s not really sure why, he follows it up with, “She shouldn’t even be an agent.”

Bucky’s incredulous. “Why? Because of her knee? I’m missing an arm, as you so eloquently pointed out the other day. Should I not be an Avenger because of it?”

“It’s different, Buck,” Steve replies sharply, crystal blue eyes blazing when he finally lifts head to glare at the other man. Bucky’s hardly phased, simply crosses his arms over his chest patiently.

“How is it different? By your logic, no one with injuries or handicaps should be an Avenger, or an agent, or even military.” Steve’s silent. He knows Bucky’s right, but he won’t, can’t, admit it. His friend’s voice is soft as he asks, “Why are you so much harder on her than the others? What is it about her?”

“Leave it alone, Buck.”

The tone of his voice rings in finality - he won’t discuss this anymore, and Bucky is frustrated over it. He knows his friend is stubborn, pigheaded really, but he’ll get Steve to crack - eventually. For now, he lets it go, moves to the front of the jet where Clint is at the controls.

Meanwhile, Steve stews in irritation. The very topic of you is enough to have his face heating, fists clenching, and while he knows it isn’t really fair - he doesn’t really know you, after all - he can’t help it. Almost everything about you is enough to grate on his nerves. His therapist would tell him he’s projecting, but he can’t seem to stop.

The mission ends up being a bust. Absolutely no intel on Hydra activity whatsoever. Just a warehouse with a number of homeless people taking refuge inside it. So Steve and Bucky end up nearly buying out an entire grocery store out of nonperishables to keep them fed as the weather gets colder. Might as well turn the trip into something positive.

When the quinjet lands on the platform, Steve breaks away from Bucky. His post-mission routine, regardless of the outcome, is a solid two hours in the gym. Tony is on his ass for how many punching bags he goes through, but it’s the only way he knows how to level his head out again. He makes a quick stop at his room, changing into gym clothes, but when he gets to the gym door, he freezes.

It’s occupied. By you.

For a few moments, he just waits outside the door. Waits to see if you’re finishing up, and when you start on a new workout, he blows out a breath. He’s not sure if he should go in; you mere presence is enough to keep his concentration off his workout, but he feels the anxious energy in his veins.

He needs this workout, so he enters the gym.

You look up from your place on the bench press station, face hardening when you see Steve waltzing over to the squat rack like he owns the gym. White hot rage coils in your belly, an autonomous reaction to his presence. Since his public humiliation of you in front of other agents, you’ve been on the defensive around him, but you keep your head down and obey orders like a good little soldier.

You do it to appease him, but you aren’t happy about it. Not at all. It makes you feel subordinate - which, technically in rank, you are - but even worse, it makes you feel about two inches tall. He doesn’t act this way with other agents. He’s tough, yes, but never nasty in the way he is with you. It only leads you to believe it’s personal - for whatever reason, he just doesn’t like you.

Gritting your teeth, you turn back to lifting, grunting lowly with the effort. While you work out, your mind wanders.

Bucky’s salve has so far done wonders for your knee. When you push it, there’s only a dull ache beneath the surface. It’s there, but manageable. You’ll have to arrange to have Shuri send more, and you’ll get Bucky a gift basket maybe as thanks.

You’re still a little thrown by Bucky’s friendliness towards you - being best friends with Steve, you’d wrongly assumed he’d be just like him. After all, all the stories you’d heard of the two involved them getting into trouble in some way or another. You’re pleasantly surprised to learn it’s not the case at all - the two of them, while similar in some ways, you’ve noticed, are like hot and cold.

Where Bucky is extremely mild-mannered and gentle from what you’ve gathered, Steve seems the opposite - coarse, abrasive, quick to anger. It forces you to give him a wide berth whenever you’re around him.

Today is no different. The two of you dance around each other as you work out, and you can see the pinched lines in his face that tell you your presence bothers him just as his does you. When you step up to the fly machine beside him, he slams the weights down hard. Bristling, you find a different machine.

It goes like this for another twenty minutes - you find a machine, and he’s quick to push you off of it. You know you don’t necessarily have to leave, but being so close to him makes you angry all over again, voiding your work out completely. You’d come to work off your stress, and he’s only adding to it. It’s as he swipes the treadmill you’re walking towards that you throw your hands up in defeat.

“Fine,” you growl, louder than intended as it echoes in the room. “I’m leaving.”

As you turn to go, his super hearing picks up, “Fucking asshole.”

When you slam the door behind you, Steve feels a little bit badly for cutting your workout short. He knows, maybe better than a lot of people, how good it feels to work off stress. He hadn’t missed the deep frown on your face each time he pushed you off a machine despite there being plenty of space for the two of you. Honestly, he’s surprised you went with it as long as you had, and even he can admit that last move was a pretty dickish one to make. You just make him so angry and flustered, and he knows he should address the why, but he isn’t ready to - not yet.

You’re cursing under your breath as you storm the hall up to your living quarters. They were optional when you signed on as an agent, but seeing as how you didn’t have much of a life to begin with, you didn’t see the point in having your own apartment.

Your quarters are basically an apartment anyways, though you share the space with your roommate, Julie. She’s a good agent, smart, though a little hot-tempered if you’re being honest. Can’t really take a joke, either. But she’s clean, quiet, doesn’t cause trouble.

In the middle of your muttering towards the elevator, you completely miss Bucky leaning against the wall beside it, smirking a little as his hearing picks up on you cursing Steve’s name. When you finally do see him, you startle, jumping backwards a little with a hand over your heart.

“Jesus, Bucky,” you gasp, and Bucky has to swallow thickly against the imperfect thoughts skittering across his brain. Instead, his smirk widens and he pushes off the wall.

“What’s Steve done now?”

You look confused, until it registers, and then you wave a hand around your ear. “Right, super hearing. He thwarted my workout.”

“Thwarted?” he snorts, eyes glittering in amusement. You scowl, but your mouth twitches a bit. Bucky is one hell of a mood-booster.

“Yes, thwarted. Basically forced me out of the gym with his planet-sized temper tantrum.” The vitriol is back in your voice, and Bucky sighs, shakes his head a little at the absurdity of his best friend.

“Since he won’t, I’ll apologize on his behalf. I really wish I knew what’s gotten into him,” he replies truthfully. You frown, both because the easiness is gone from his face and because you don’t mean to talk badly about his best friend, his Captain.

“Probably that shield of his shoved too far up his ass,” you grumble, brightening when Bucky laughs. Smiling softly, you add, “You don’t need to apologize for him, you know?”

Bucky likes the softness in your gaze, feels himself go mushy on the inside. Needing another reason to talk to you, he nods down at your knee.

“How’s it feeling?”

You kick your leg out a couple times, grinning happily. “Feels good. That salve really works, so thank you. I might have to get you a new bottle, though.”

He brushes it off. “Don’t worry about it. Shuri sends it every month or so. I can have her add a few bottles on for you, if you want?”

He preens when you flush, cheeks warming and eyelashes fluttering. You scratch your arm nervously, peek up at him under your lashes.

“You don’t have to do that for me, Buck.” It’s the softest, gentlest he’s ever heard you speak, and your eyes betray how much his offer really means to you. It makes your heart pound, makes you even more aware that it’s just the two of you in this hallway. It’s as intimate as when you were in his room that first time.

“It’d be my pleasure, doll.” The pet name comes too easily, he thinks, but he hasn’t a mind to care. Not when you flush so prettily. “Can I walk you up?”

“Sure.”

Chapter Three

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve x you #steve x reader #steve rogers x you x bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes

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wifeofkimtaehyungofbts · 3 years

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Chapter 2

Pairing: Jimin x Y/N

Synopsis: How do you help someone with their emotions if you don’t feel emotions? When your brother’s best friend dies in a tragic car accident and he spirals downwards in depression, you devote yourself to helping him out of his misery. But when his other best friend becomes suicidal following the loss, it isn’t merely about helping them. It’s about saving them.

Word count: 1500+

*****

Monday morning came by fast. I stood in the kitchen waiting for the toaster to do its thing, adjusting my long beige coat over the navy-blue shirt and white denims hugging my figure. Jungkook strolls into the kitchen sleepily, his hair a soft mess.

I smile at the sight of him. “Good morning sleepy head”

He looks up at me but ignores my greeting. He walks over to the table and adjusts himself on the stool as he leans over, grabbing an apple and biting into the hardness with a loud crunch that bounces against the too quiet kitchen walls. I stare at him as I process his state.

My brother has always been overly protective of me; taking care of me day in and day out and putting my happiness over his at any point in his life. He has never behaved in any way unpleasant or disapproving to me. From his no-good-morning to him ignoring my presence, bothered me more than it should.

“Kookie” I say. “I’m making toast butter bread for us”

He doesn’t even lift his head to look at me. A frown settles on my brows as I make my way to him. I stand a few feet away from him and place a head on his shoulder.

“Dude, what’s with the low energy? What’s up with you this morning?” I ask, concerned.

He roughly shrugs my hand off as he looks at me with one eye, the other covered by his thick bangs.

“Low energy?” he asks in his gruff morning voice. “I didn’t know sad people had to keep up bright appearances” he chuckles sarcastically.

I blink several times, swallowing hard. It’s only been a week, Y/N. How could you expect him to have recovered already?

Feeling like a complete jackass, I run my fingers through his messy bed hair. “You should stay in today, without going to work” I smile warmly.

“That was the plan anyway, you didn’t have to tell me” he stands up, my arm falling to my side as I watch him walk away and disappear around the corner of the hallway. I stand there, feeling empty and lonely after experiencing a new side of my brother I’ve never before had the unfortune to meet.

***

Carrying a mountain of files up six flights of stairs because the elevator was under maintenance was not an easy feat for someone in 4-inch-high heels and a too-tight pencil skirt. Too bad for me, I had to change out of my beautifully fitting white pants this morning when I was mindlessly making coffee for the first time just for me instead of for both Jungkook and I. I reached over for my coffee mug and ending up knocking it over my lap with the back of my hand. The hot darkness soaked the pure white of my pants and before I could scream, it had already drawn maps across my pants. I changed into a pencil skirt a size too small and now I’m suffering the consequences of choosing style over comfort with my attire.

I make my way step by step painfully up the stairs, barely being able to stretch my legs to lift them over each stair.

“May I help you?” I hear a deep voice from in front of me. I groan and grunt as my tired arms attempt to move the files out of my sight so I can see the man standing before me. A weight is suddenly lifted off my arms and I gasp loudly, staring at the face of my savior. Before me stands a very tall, handsome man with soft cheeks and brown hair parted at the side. I have to remind myself to stop staring because that is all you can do at the sight of this very handsome man.

“Uh...” I try to find my words lost in my head cramped with inappropriate thoughts of this man.

He cocks an eyebrow at me and the gesture has me tumbling backwards mentally before I scold myself to get a grip. “I actually have to get these to floor 3 within the next 3mins” I mumble.

The man smiles gently at me, his eyes turning into crescents. He turns on his heel and takes long strides, taking two steps at a time as he swiftly makes his way up to the third floor. I take much longer to reach the third floor, but when I do, I find him standing there waiting for me.

“It needs to be dropped off at Jin’s desk” I say, already making my way to the table at the very end belonging to the most handsome man in our company, Kim Seokjin. As I approach him, he lifts his head from the stack of papers he had it buried in. His plump lips turn upwards in a warm smile as his sparkling eyes take in my presence. Jin takes off his round glasses and straightens himself in the seat. He rolls back his wide, muscular shoulders and cracks his neck.

“It’s been a crazy week y/n” he sighs, holding the back of his thick neck.

“I bet! You look rather exhausted” I take note of the bags under his eyes and red nose, probably from staying up all night in the soon approaching winter and waking up too early.

I turn to the man behind me who is already placing the files on top of Jin’s desk. Jin watches as the man scrunches his nose when he clumsily placed the files, knocking over Jin’s pencil holder. Pens and highlighters sprawl across Jin’s desk and he can only sigh at this obvious behavior from the embarrassed man in front of him.

“Namjoon Namjoon Namjoon” Jin shakes his head. “How many times have I told you not to be so quick with your movements if you know you are clumsy beyond fixing?”

Jin pinches the bridge of his nose as he picks up the colourful mess in front of him.

“Sorry I was just trying to help this pretty lady” Namjoon scratches the side of his head.

Namjoon.

And he called me pretty!

I have to mentally slap myself out of this new found, fascinating information as I finish placing the files in order on top of Jin’s desk.

“Thank you for helping me” I bow to Namjoon and Jin before heading off back downstairs to the comfort of my own desk, away from the eyes of two handsome men out of my league.

***

The rest of the day goes by too slowly, work after work piling onto my lap as I try my best to finish them all off so I don’t have to take my work home. I am strict on keeping my personal life and professional life as separate as possible.

As I type fast, my mind wanders to my brother away from the tap tap tap of my fingers on the black keyboard. I wanted to call him, ask him how he’s holding up and whether he wants me to cook for him tonight or he would want to do it by himself as he does on most nights. I conclude with take away on my way home after deciding with myself.

I reach for my mobile phone to call him and decide against it. He probably wants to be left alone.

Opening a new tab on my search engine, I type HOW TO COMFORT SOMEONE AFTER THEY EXPERIENCE A LOSS.

Articles pop up from blogs, newspapers, magazines and even from question-answer platforms. I skim through most of them but is left dissatisfied. They all talk of being there for them and listening to their worries so they do not collect their frustrations but none of it is relatable to me. For someone who doesn’t feel emotions like normal people.

How can I be there for my brother or empathize with his internal frustrations if I cannot comprehend the mere situation itself? I know Taehyung meant a lot to him, being one of his first best friends and helping my brother come out of his introverted shell. But I do not understand how much he meant to my brother. How lost and torn my brother feels over his passing. I have never felt such strong emotions and the only loss I have experienced was my father and I do not recall being torn and devastated over it. I was sad, obviously, but not lost nor did I hide inside a shell unwilling to move with the world and move on with my life.

I sigh as I stare at the smiling sticker in the upper right corner of my office computer. Oh, how wonderful it must feel to feel so deeply! My mind wanders as I think about if I may ever get to experience such overwhelming emotions as pure bliss or utter terror.

***

Previous / Next

#bts #bangtan sonyeondan #BTS jimin #BTS jungkook #park jimin #bts jimin x reader #bts jimin x y/n #jimin x reader #jimin x y/n #Steadfast

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thethoughtsfromthreeam · 4 years

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Sunshine

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x OC (Evelyn “Evie” Blaker)

Warnings: Smut

A/N: Enjoy the smut because angst is coming. I didn’t plan on it originally, but damn if it didn’t make sense to the story line. Ugh, angst, you bastard.

Reminder: I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit. I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.

Tags: @zeldasayer , @romanticgumchewer, @beskars , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder, @lavenderl3mons , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito , @randomness501 , @fioccodineveautunnale

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [PART 5]

Part 6

That Let You Fly High

“Evie!” Maxwell’s voice rang through the house as he walked in the door, dropping his briefcase by the hall table and hanging his coat on the rack. He was humming with a smile on his face. He was taking two days off and that, plus the weekend, meant he had four whole days of Evie to himself. His secretary asked several times if he was feeling okay and he was so blissed out on the thought, he couldn’t even pretend to be mad.

Evie herself was in the kitchen, looking out at the beautiful fall day and enjoying some hot chocolate. Marnie had gone home early for the evening and she was lost in thought when she heard Maxwell’s voice calling her. Something about the situation made her think of I Love Lucy and for a moment she felt like a fifties sitcom housewife. She giggled at such a silly thought, but it wormed its way further in her brain and something about it felt right.

Before she let herself dwell on the idea, she walked out in the dining room and met him halfway, both wearing matching grins. He walked up to her and leaned down to kiss her, her lips tasting of chocolate and whipped cream. He thought her natural sweetness was better. They kissed softly, a series of pecks on the lips that spoke of affection and hints of love where their tongues could not. Not yet anyway.

“Hello Max.” They pulled away and he took her mug and set it on the table. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and she leaned into him. He looked down into her face, that warmth he had grown to love seemed to crawl even deeper into his soul.

“I got a call from a friend of mine, Eric, inviting me to a fundraiser tomorrow. I think it’s for the botanical gardens or something. Anyway, I agreed and I’m taking you with me. I think we deserve a fancy night on the town to kick off our weekend.” He noticed a frown growing between her eyebrows.

“I didn’t come prepared for a fancy party though.” She was already taking mental inventory of what she would need. “I’d have to go shopping.”

“I figured, so we’ll just go shopping”

“We?” Her tone had an amused tone to it, and he grinned.

“Yeah. We’ll go tomorrow, do a little shopping, get some lunch. You know, make a day of it.”

“You’ll go shopping with me.” Her amused tone growing with each word until she got the giggles. He raised an eyebrow, trying to look mean but absolutely failing.

“Watching you trying on gowns? Why would I miss that?” His voice turned husky and she surprised herself by blushing under his look. A gleam glinted in his eye and she turned away from him, heat creeping across her body. He dropped a warm kiss to the back of her neck before leaving the room, knowing he left her body humming for him. His grin spread across his face.

---***---

Waincotters Boutique was one of those high-end parlor-style dress stores that in any other case Evie would have bypassed for a Nordstrom’s or Bloomingdale’s. She felt a little out of place with her jeans and tee shirt when she saw the way the salesgirls were dressed. Maxwell held her hand and he could feel the shivers as her nerves began to get to the better of her. He squeezed a little and glanced down at her. Its fine, the squeeze told her.

“Maxwell! So good to see you again! And who do we have with us today?” A sprightly woman with a greying bob cut smiled at the couple. The woman was entirely welcoming, and Evie felt a little more at ease under her kind eyes. They were whisked away to a private room with a comfortable sitting area and a small platform with mirrors.

“I’m Susanne and I’ll be helping you find the perfect dress for tonight’s event.” The woman sat down with them and another came through the door with snacks and drinks and set them on the table before leaving the three alone again. “What kind of event is it?”

“Formal wear, not quite black tie.” Maxwell had called Eric to get more information and that was all he was told. “Not cocktail as far as I know.”

“Perfect. Now Miss. . .”

“Evie.”

“Miss Evie.” Susanne smiled again and took Evie’s hands into her own, the skin warm and comforting.

“Tell me what you like in a dress. Sleeves? No sleeves? Slit? Silk? Crepe? Color? Cut? Style? Shape? Length? Train? No train? Neckline?” The questions were almost overwhelming to her and Evie took a deep breath. Susanne smiled and patted her hand, recognizing that look of too much information on the fiery blonde’s face.

“How about this, let’s start with something easy. What color do you like to wear?”

“Oh purples!” Evie sounded excited for the first time since everything started. “I love purples, but dark ones like plum.”

“Great!” Susanne wrote somethings down and continued to asked questions like sizes and height. “Let me pull a variety and let you try them on and then we’ll narrow it down.”

Evie nodded and soon a dozen dresses in ranging from a deep plum to a royal purple in all different styles were hanging in front of her. While she didn’t have a full affinity for fashion, she did love quality clothing. Most people thought her outfits for work were staid, but the fabrics were rich, and quality made. Even her jeans and tee shirts were well fitted and everything she wore was tailored as needed. Being able to pick out a fancy gown was like being handed a gift, almost heavenly.

As she glanced down at the price tag, though, her eyes bugged out and she snapped her head around to look at Maxwell. He started laughing, choking on his drink in the process. He still laughed as he wiped his pants off.

“MAX!” She hissed. “This dress is almost $7,000! I can’t afford this!” She put the dress back on the rack as if it were on fire.

“You’re not, I’m buying it.”

“Oh no you’re not. We’re leaving and going to Saks or something.” She stepped off the platform to grab her purse when he shot his hand out to stop her.

“Evie. Stop worrying about it. I’m buying you a dress, it’s no big deal.”

“I can’t let you spend $7,000 on me!” Her voice rose with every word until the last one came out as a squeak. “That’s outrageous, it’s too expensive. THAT’S SEVEN GRAND!”

“Evie, please calm down for one second.” Maxwell looked her in the eyes, an amused and almost loving look to them. “I care about you finding a dress you love and that you’ll want to show off tonight. I want you to feel good. Price is of no matter to me. And if I thought it was, do you think I would have brought you here in the first place?”

She stopped and seemed to calm down somewhat, her face still red as she looked at the first dress she had pulled off the rack.

“Well, you got me there.”

“I know. Now ignore the price tags, find what makes you feel beautiful and its yours.”

“I never had anyone spend so much money on me.” Her tone was low, not meaning for him to hear her. It was almost obscene how much he was willing to spend, and she felt a little guilty. Kind of how she felt guilty asking to order a second dessert on their first date. Quality she was willing to spend money on, but boy, $7,000 was way too rich for her decidedly middle-class tastes.

“I suppose it would be crass to say that you’ve never had anyone with my level of wealth buying things for you.” He smiled as she giggled.

“That’s true.” She walked back over to the dresses and ran her fingers across them, feeling silk and crepe and a jersey so soft a baby could have been swaddled in it. And they were her favorite color. . . She turned around.

“Are you staying here while I try them on?”

“That was the goal.” Again, his voice turned slightly husky and a small smirk grew on her lips. As he sat down, she turned and walked over to the door, head poking out, she asked for a pair of heels in her size and muttered something to the salesgirl. She stepped back into the room and closed the door, locking it behind her.

Maxwell had settled back into his seat, taking off his jacket and rolling up his cuffs. He popped a cracker into his mouth, not really paying attention to Evie as she stepped back onto the platform. She faced away from him and pulling out a hair tie, she swept her long locks into a bun. When she could see Maxwell looking at her, she dropped her hands to the hem of her shirt.

Capturing Maxwell’s eyes, she held his gaze as she slowly raised her shirt, exposing the skin of her stomach inch by inch. She ran her hands up and across her breasts as she continued to pull up the fabric, her yellow bra peeking out from under the shirt. He swallowed, but her face remained stoic.

She grabbed the hem of her shirt and whipped it over her head, dropping it on the floor. She stood there a moment before bringing her hand to the button of her jeans. She popped the button as she toed off her flats. She could see the bulge growing in Maxwell’s pants and his eyes were darkening. She unzipped her pants and pushed them off her hips. She bent over and thrusted her ass out in his direction as she pushed them off her legs. From where he sat, he could see the crotch of her panties darkening as Evie became more and more turned on.

Evie remained bent over, slightly turning her head and she saw that Maxwell had loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves. Those forearms of his, the crisp blond hairs glistening in the overhead lights, something about his strong forearms sent shockwaves of pleasure to the very center of her. She slowly stood up and stepped out of the puddle of denim at her feet, kicking it off to the side. A low groan came from behind her as she stood there in just her underthings. She paused until he looked her in the eye, and she bowed her head slightly.

Reaching up, she unhooked her bra’s front clasp and the fabric gaped, her breasts spilling out and her nipples playing peek-a-boo with the lace edges. She saw Maxwell shift behind her, his bulge now clearly visible in the mirror’s reflection. She could his hands gripping the arms of the chair, knuckles almost white. She threw him a sultry smile as she dragged her fingertips from her chin down the front of her neck to the middle of her chest.

She let her hands rest there before fanning out her fingers and lightly running them across her breasts, moving the bra off them and exposing her harden nipples to the cooler air of the dressing room. She could hear Maxwell’s heavy breathing growing more rapid as he watched her actions in the mirrors. Evie kept moving her hands, pealing the yellow material off her body and let it drop behind her. She threw Maxwell a coquettish look in the mirror as she brought her hands back to her breasts.

She spread her hands until her flesh was covered, and she could feel the hard nub of her nipples against her palms. She lolled her head downward, keeping a steady gaze with Maxwell, who was practically vibrating with want. Her fingers were soft against her skin and slowly she dragged them until her fingertips were against her nipples. He watched as she flicked her wrists and twisted the taunt flesh and her moan went straight to his cock.

The ripples of pleasure in her breasts were making her clit feel needy and her hips jerked forward, pulsating for a touch. Her body slightly bowed into herself and her mouth dropped open although no sound came out. Evie tried to maintain eye contact with Maxwell, but the pleasure was so overwhelming that she closed her eyes, chasing the edges of her climax. She continued to tweak her nipples, her body straining for her clit to be touched.

Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore and she dropped her hands, brushing them over her clothed mound. She could feel her panties growing damper with each passing moment and she unconsciously rubbed her thighs together. Suddenly, she turned around, facing her audience for the first time since she locked the door.

“Max. Come here.” He didn’t need to be told twice, he was out of his chair and in one long stride, he stood in front of her. The dark pools of his lustful eyes drew her in, and she threw him a sultry look. “Take off my panties.”

He groaned as he dropped to his knees, looking at up at her. Maxwell felt like he was on fire. The minute he saw the skin of her stomach, he was lost. The more she exposed, the harder he became, and he desperately wanted to fuck her senseless. His entire body itched to feel her skin, his tongue wanted to explore the slit he knew was soaked, and he cock ached for her. He brought his hands to her hips and he could see them shaking in anticipation. This woman is undoing him, a small voice inside him said. And we fucking love it, replied the roaring lust consuming him.

He hooked his fingers underneath her silky boy shorts, the shape framing out her hips and ass beautifully. With a slow tug, they were dragged down her legs and the smoothness of the silk created flames of heat along her skin, felt long after he tossed the scrap of fabric to the side. Every inch of her felt like she was on fire the minute Maxwell touched her. She looked down at him and he could barely see the golden brown he’d come to love – the pupils blown out so wide her eyes were black, and he felt as if they were sucking him in.

“Touch me.” Her voice was a raspy whisper and Evie felt that if he didn’t, she just might die. Thankfully for her, he obliged, and their eyes remained locked as Maxwell slowly dragged his large hands up her legs, letting just his fingertips skitter across her thighs. Her body bowed again, and the quiet moan came from deep in her chest. Her eyes nearly fluttered shut, but she stopped herself so she could look at him in front of her, eyes full of supplication and want. She had brough the great and powerful Maxwell Lord to his knees and the very thought made her feel hedonistic. She brought her hands up to his shoulders, giving her something solid to hold onto as she began to float away on a river of pleasure.

Maxwell ghosted his hand around her left thigh before grabbing it and lifting her leg. He hooked it over his shoulder, and he brought his hands to her hips. Tipping them slightly, he brought his mouth to her slit and flattened his tongue, dragging it through her folds before resting on her clit. Her whole body shuttered, and she moaned at the sensation. Her hands moved up to grip his hair, giving her the balance she needed to stay upright.

Her tugs on his hair sent pleasure directly to his cock and his own hips jerked forward. He smiled against her before licking her again, focusing on her clit with every pass through. When her thighs began to shake with her building orgasm, he brought his hand down and sunk two fingers deep into her heat. She gasped his name at the sensation and the feral feeling in his chest grew. This woman’s pleasure was his and his alone and he was going to take it.

Evie’s eyes fluttered shut and her body continued to tremble at the overwhelming sensations she was experiencing and her grip on him grew tighter. His eyes, despite their lust, were full of adoration for her and she never felt as cherished in such a position as she did now. Something bloomed deep inside of her, something behind the lust that wrapped its ghostly fingers around her heart.

“Max, I’m going to come.” She whispered it, trying to keep the noise down as to not arouse suspicion from the salesgirls. He nodded as he continued to pump his hand into her, and he zeroed in his tongue on her clit. Soon the familiar coils in her stomach reached their breaking point and she gritted her teeth as she came, the strangled cry sounding hoarse. He withdrew his fingers but kept licking her clit until he felt her pulling his head away from her.

Her skin was flushed, and her body kept trembling against him, her chest heaving with exertion. He could tell she was barely standing upright, she always lost control of her body when she came. Knowing that he brought her to such highs felt like the best drug he could take. Every pant, every groan – he was able to draw those from her and he almost was addicted to it.

He brought his hands to her hips and leaned back onto his heels. He had to have her, and his hand dropped to his crotch. Maxwell unzipped his pants, pulling his rock-hard cock out, precum practically dripping out of him in a continuous stream. He palmed himself, stroking a few times to spread his own slickness along with hers. He found himself struggling not to go any further.

“Sit on my lap, Evie. I need you on me.” His voice sounded desperate, a vibration that resonated with her. They fucked several times since she arrived in the city, but something about this time seemed different and she felt as if she would die if she didn’t feel him inside of her. She dropped to her knees, straddling his lap as he grabbed the base of his cock. She slowly lowered herself onto him and her breath stuttered out of her lungs as she felt him fill her. When he was buried to the hilt, Evie briefly thought that Maxwell was touching her very soul and she wasn’t sure where they each began and ended.

She dropped her head onto his shoulder and wrapped her arms around him. Even though he was fully dressed, the heat of his skin seemed to burn Evie and in turn Maxwell felt as if no clothes were between then at all. His own arms wrapped themselves around her waist, his face buried into her neck. He took a deep breath and the warm scent that was so uniquely hers filled his lungs and hazed his mind.

They sat like that for several long minutes, just savoring the moment. On that platform, in the dressing room, something changed between them fundamentally. The touches, the comments, the thoughts, the looks, the sensations had been building, the belief that everything just felt right to them converged in that shared moment. The squeeze on Maxwell’s heart was vice-like and he could feel tears prickling under his lids. He shifted his hips and he touched something in her that caused her to gasp into his shoulder, almost watery sounding, as if Evie had tears of her own.

She lifted herself before dropping back down onto his cock and Evie shuttered as the pressure in her lower belly began to spark again. He was sensitive and every movement, no matter how small, was sending out ripples of pleasure through his whole body. The next time she lifted her hips, he drove into her and her moan was right in his ear. It was so loud to him and he moaned in response. Soon they caught a rhythm in that same pattern, their pace soft and slow at first but as the rise of their shared climax began to consume them both, things began to feel more desperate.

Evie raised her head off Maxwell’s shoulder, biting her lip to stay quiet, but she felt compelled to look him in the eye as she came. He pulled his own head out of her neck and he brought his hand up to brush the tendrils of hair that had escaped her bun and stuck to her face. They stared at each other as their pace continued to increase and their bellies felt on fire – the one that consumes you until you are nothing but ash, waiting for rebirth at the apex of pleasure.

His hips were snapping into her and she gave into him, wanting to come desperately. He knew exactly when she did, even before her walls clamped down on him, he could see it in her eyes. She bit her lips to conceal her scream, a strangled sound replacing it instead and he drove into her one last time before coming himself. He was always quiet, but he found himself tamping down a strangled cry of his own. They bowed into each other, as if they could crawl inside the other and never leave.

He slowly withdrew from her and she slid off his lap with a less than graceful thump on the platform, legs slightly splayed out. He could see their mixed come glistening between her legs and his breath caught for a moment. She laughed and he did, too. He leaned into her and kissed her gently on the lips before getting up and heading to the small bathroom. He came back with a towel, his cock back in his pants, although the damp spot she created on the front of them would have been hard to hide had it not been for his jacket.

He gently cleaned her up, stealing kisses on her lips, her cheeks, her neck, - wherever he could touch her, and she responded in kind. The smile on his face was gentle and loving and hers was, well, it was always like that and he relished it as usual. Once she was cleaned up, she put her panties and bra back on.

“You going to watch me try on dresses?” She asked again and he nodded as he helped her up. He went to sit back down and observed her as she pulled dresses and put them back, trying to get a feel for everything. But every time, she came back to a dark purple silky jersey dress, one that seemed perfect to her.

Reminiscent of Hilary Swank’s 2004 Oscar dress, Evie noted that it had a high back and a boat neckline, but was fitted, with ruching along the waist that would accent her shape beautifully. She always preferred to be covered, and as she ran her fingers along the gown, the silk felt heavenly. For a brief second, her brain flashed an image of said silk wrapped around Maxwell’s cock. Her smirk was nearly hard to hide.

She looked at Maxwell, who was looking at his phone and not paying attention to her. She snagged it off the hanger and went back onto the platform. She stepped into the heels and slipped the dress on. She looked at the ceiling and said a silent thank you. It fit and with three-inch heels, the dress gently brushed the ground. She felt divine and based on Maxwell’s whistle, looked it too.

“Evie, you look. . .” He waved his hands at her. “Fucking hot.”

She laughed and turned around, giving a T-pose perfected by years on the pageant circuit as a college student. Her hands sat on her hips and the way she twisted her torso, her breasts looked round and perfect. Despite just having fucked her, Maxwell desired to fuck her again.

“Sold. This is it.”

“You want the shoes, too?”

“God no, these things hurt like hell and I’ve only had them on for five minutes. We’ll find another pair elsewhere.” He nodded as she stripped out of the dress and got her clothes back on. She put the dress back on the hanger and draped it gently over her arm before turning back to Maxwell.

“I feel bad, we didn’t eat anything they set out.”

“Eh, we found something better.” She laughed and swatted at his arm. He grabbed her purse for her, and they left the room. Susanne was waiting for them when they exited and was excited to see that Evie found the dress that she wanted. They talked more as the purchase was rang up. The two left the shop and slid into the waiting car, Bennett’s cheery hellos a welcome sight.

“Look at that, found the perfect dress and saved you money.” She looked at him with a grin. The price for this dress had only been $2,000. She was still appalled that anyone was spending that amount on her, but she could stomach that figure over $7,000 any day of the week.

“The perfect woman,” He smiled at her and leaned down to whisper, “especially in bed.”

She grew red at his comment but couldn’t stop the giggles that bubbled up in her throat. The day had been perfect, and she was in heaven.

#maxwell lord #maxwell lord x oc #maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #ww1984 #Wonder Woman 1984

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webscene-remade · 5 years

Text

gigantic homestuck liveblog post

hello. I hope to god that tumblr’s readmore function works across platforms because otherwise this may just be the worst thing I ever inflicted on anyone’s dashboard in the history of this hellsite

warnings for my pure, unadulterated opinions (including relentless character-hate for characters that I personally do not like), spoilers for literally everything, reading the epilogues in the most asinine order possible, and the same content warnings that were given at the beginning of the epilogues themselves

general thoughts: i liked some of it, didnt like some of it. the parts that i didn't like would have been more bearable if they literally weren’t painful to read. i’m of the opinion that, while things dont have to be daisies and roses all the time, i don’t want to have a completely horrible reading experience when things aren’t daises and roses.

other complaints: part of homestuck’s appeal is its amazing cast of girls, and they were severely under-utilized. also, i had to see gamzee again.

but, like i said. i liked some of it. a lot of it, in fact. i did think it kept with the spirit of homestuck in that it made me feel every single human emotion possible.

I had a lot of Feelings while reading, and if I went into all of them here, I might as well write out some meta to flesh out the 2.5 concrete thoughts I had while reading, but I’m not going to do that. instead, i’m going to dump my several-thousand-words of live reactions here so that no one has the patience to parse out what the hell i’m talking about. because I just spent a total of 21 hours reading this and I am so incredibly braindead.

MEAT 1

Okay I’m clicking on ‘meat’ first. I’m so scared LMAO I’m not ready for this.

Gross. This is already very upsetting.

MEAT 2

Lmao WHAT

FUCK. Dave this is NOT ALLOWED.

Homestuck is very very good actually

Alright I’m going to have to stop screenshotting every single thing I find funny or else I am never going to get through this

I Love You Dave Strider

This is so fucking weird to say and I have no idea what the psychology is behind it but reading homestuck always makes me weirdly ambitious…like reading about dave doing shit like making comics and motivating karkat to run for president makes ME want to do shit.

also the biggest mystery in homestuck is that people like jake English

MEAT 3

The fridge pops open and out roll Aranea and Gamzee. Gamzee honks and his codpiece jiggles ominously. Aranea staggers to her feet, looking rather pleased with herself.

Fucking gross.

JOHN PUNCHED ARANEA

Waaaaay back in the day “aranea gets punched in the face” was on my homestuck bingo card, back when we all thought the comic was gonna end after the gigapause or whatever it was called

Also is this going to be in fic form the whole time because if so I’m going to have a hell of a time concentrating long enough to finish this in one go

You wisely decide that this clown will lend nothing valuable to the narrative whatsoever if he is allowed to remain outside of your childhood refrigerator. You put both hands on his chest and shove him into the fridge where he belongs. He goes easily, issuing only a pair of weak honks in protest. You slam the fridge shut and resolve to never think about Gamzee Makara again.

Bye bitch

I know you’re going to be back soon but still

(also I skimmed the first few pages of the candy epilogue and it looks like gamzee might have some relevance in that one too. Homophobic if true.)

MEAT 4

Oh jesus fuck I just remembered caliborn’s stop-motion Claymation thing where all the kids die. And now john’s gathering them all up. This is going to fucking SUCK isn’t it

MEAT 5

Lmao

Jake can’t help but watch the motion, raking his eyes over the muscles shifting beneath the skin of Dirk’s neck and arms.

Calm your fucking boner dude

Also dirk is ripped apparently

With a casual flick of his wrist, Dirk snaps out a bright red tranquilizer handgun and shoots Jake in the neck. Jake’s glasses crack when he hits the mat.

What the fuck

MEAT 6

You wonder. Do you see these teen versions of your friends as “real”? Are you treating them, at Rose’s behest, as simple puppets? Doing your part to insist they fill friend-shaped recesses in an essential plan to stabilize all else that can be considered important, a distinction no longer applying to them? Do you care at all about whatever fate it may be that you are sentencing these children to? Are you becoming as complicit in the fatalistic evils of Paradox Space as Lord English himself? Are you becoming a monster, John Egbert?

MEAT 7

I Love You Rose Lalonde

Also, same old Dirk, huh?

Dirk & rose conversations are some of the best but. Dirk. Dirk. He reminds me so much of myself and I constantly want to shove him into a locker.

MEAT 8

I hate how much I love caliborn. Also I am Very Afraid.

MEAT 9

The blurry, distorted face of your laughing nemesis was the last thing you saw before the chest door slammed shut and plunged you into textual obsolescence.

And here, you are now stuck. You will not emerge from this holding cell, from an outside perspective, for quadrillions of years. It is not long at all until you begin to wish you had brought something to read.

Jesus Christ

Well. At least it’s quadrillions of years “from an outside perspective.” Hopefully it won’t be THAT long for them. Maybe like, an hour?

Also john you broke your glasses. How are you supposed to read.

MEAT 10

No, surely this must have been Dave’s idea. The kind of plot hatched from their little nest of mutually supportive, codependent, interspecies... whatever it was they had going on over there.

Jane is straight-up EVIL, I guess

This what capitalism does to you, folks

Also, karkat (true leftism)

MEAT 11

This is exactly what I expected when I realized john would be overseeing a group of teens

Would you tell them about Terezi...

For some reason her name feels like nails in your heart. Makes sense, you guess, cause there’s a lot of sharp letters in it. She had sharp teeth too, and sharp elbows. Sharp words. Terezi Pyrope was a sharp girl, and maybe what these sharp feelings are trying to tell you is you miss her more than you realized.

Do NOT talk about terezi in the past tense you fucking GOON

Also if I don’t see terezi again I will fucking riot

Me like 2 years ago

MEAT 12

Asfdhkajlfh

Jade you are NOT subtle

This is oppression

Dave and karkat HAVE KISSED MULTIPLE TIMES. I will not be convinced otherwise

Jade “didn’t think Obama was a real person” Harley

Also Dave “doesn’t think Jesus was a real person” Strider

Speaking of. Where is homestuck-is-a-sin nowadays

Jade will you please chill

but also. Marry me. dave and karkat are clearly not comfy with this, but I would be very comfy with it.

MEAT 13

> Be Vriska.

Oh fuck yes

Well, that didn’t last long. Bye, vriska!

Oh fuck

God this is all so intense. I feel like I should’ve read candy first

MEAT 14

Really, the only surprise is how long it took to happen. Jane is a beautiful lady, that’s for sure. She always has been, but she’s only grown more ravishing as she’s come into the full blossom of her womanhood. Smooth, silky skin... thick, dark lashes... full, feminine lips... not to mention curves like the dickens.

This is so hard to read lmao

Jake can’t stop thinking about dirk….ouch

MEAT 15

Roooooooooose

ROSE ):

Fuck jade too

This is going pretty much as well as could be expected

Just two bros…fighting lord English…everyone dying around them…

DAVEPETA

…v…vore

Great minds

Dave ): ): ):

There was no way that wasn’t going to happen but I am. Extremely upset.

The black hole—the gaping, implacable, cosmic embodiment of the dead cherub, his long-departed sister—finally welcomes Lord English home.

Yo I’m

It’s bananas that this webcomic still manages to have a monopoly over my emotions after all these years

MEAT 16

Oh fuck

Loving the aspect talk though

Rose’s eyes have grown distant, almost mirrorlike. Dirk can see himself reflected in her vacant stare.

Oh jesus oh Christ

Oh no

FUCK OFFFF

MEAT 17

All I’m thinking about is the narration about jake watching dirk’s rippling muscles

Dirk: I heard that Dirk has an 8-pack

MEAT 18

It’s been 3 hours and I’m only on meat 18

I need a fucking drink

MEAT 19

Jade’s got this disarming combo of head-in-the-clouds flightiness and the kind of legit, down-to-earth cred that can only be earned by having done something like cutting open your own grandfather and stuffing him full of polyurethane foam.

Why is homestuck so funny

I LOVE YOU ROXY LALONDE

Fucking same

MEAT 20

What is Happening

Will these motherfuckers Please Stop trying to remove the objects that are impaled in their chest

CALLIOPE????

I am actually astounded by the amount of things I retained from homestuck even though I haven’t quite understood what’s going on for like 6 years

MEAT 21

I missed her so much

I hate this stupid fucking webcomic

Please god kick his ass kanaya

MEAT 22

Fucking owned

MEAT 23

Kanaya PLEASE kick this fools ass

MEAT 24

TEREZI

I’M GOING TO GO APE SHIT

SHE LITERALLY HASN’T SAID ANYTHING YET AND I’M LOSING MY GODDAMN MIND

I’M GOING TO VOMIT

MEAT 25

…hmmmm

I’m actually almost tempted to do this?

Like I know it would make way more sense to finish reading meat first…BUT…

I’m gonna do it lmao

CANDY 1

At each fork in the veins, he supposes the leaf as a whole is making a certain kind of “decision,” to go this way or that. It certainly seems like one way of looking at a leaf, now that he bothers to really scrutinize one. It also seems to him, with just as great a sense of clarity, that not one of this leaf’s decisions ever mattered even the tiniest fucking bit to anybody.

Alright! Great start!

Hm! I don’t like this at all!!!!

Fuck gamzee lives

CANDY 2

Sensing that this is probably something he shouldn’t be seeing, he tiptoes towards Gamzee’s would-be sarcophagus as carefully and quietly as he can, and places his hands just above the thick aluminum hull. The moment John’s palms hit the fridge, Dirk turns to look at him. His head only moves an inch.

………what the fuck

OKAY SO…JOHN’S JUST GONNA…DROP GAMZEE ON EARTH C…THIS IS FINE

Oh what the FUCK is going on

I forgot how fucking headache-inducing gamzee’s quirk is

Literally this is almost impossible for me to read for some reason

She pats him on the back, nods very slowly, issues an “mm-hm” now and then. Only while he is distracted by his own sobs does she steal a glance at her phone, tipping the fact that she too wouldn’t mind if this redemptive soliloquy could hurry itself along.

I pretty much sound like a broken record at this point but. What the actual fuck.

Gamzee stans be like

John: *sends a picture of gamzee to terezi*

Me: Gamzee Is Not Allowed to Exist In The Same Narrative Space As Terezi

“HE”….

I just realized that the narrative isn’t in second person any more

I mean…I’m assuming we’re outside of ‘canon’. Like this isn’t the ‘essential’ timeline anymore, so things are…fucking wacky, to say the least

But even in the other timelines, shit isn’t this wack

And john seems to be aware of what’s going on

So like. What’s happening.

CANDY 3

At least dirk’s bitch ass is also sweating over all this

CANDY 4

Rose opens her eyes. She stares at the knob of her wrist and frowns. She’s not sure why this sensation should be concerning. It’s not like her memory is slipping away. She remembers the conversation she had with John this morning quite clearly. As she does the previous years of declining health, and troubled, obsessive thoughts about canon, dissipation, and other such abstractions. What’s slipping away instead is the feeling that any of it mattered at all.

I have. Very mixed feelings.

Like OBVIOUSLY I don’t want rose to continue to suffer existential dread but this feels like post-retcon all over again. Which is to say, everything feels off.

But. Post-retcon was, like, canon. And post-retcon (post-game over, really) is where I kinda stopped caring about homestuck as much as I had before

And perhaps that’s just me not “getting it” but. Oh well.

Fucking OUCH dawg

Rose and kanaya…damn son…….

They were my first f/f ship ever. Can you believe that? Can you believe homestuck?

CANDY 5

She retrieves one of her bras from where it’s hanging over the back of the couch. She starts changing it right there, doing that mystical sleight of hand girls seem to be born with the knowledge of, where the bra goes off and then on again without the shirt being removed.

Very unrelatable

Now THIS is relatable

Jade CHILL

I’ve always liked the idea of jadedavekat but this shit is not fun

Karkat fucking bit her afdhlfasdkfh what the fuck

Picsthatmakeyougohmm

CANDY 6

Yall are gonna think I’m evil for saying this but how on earth are there people out there who like Jake English

Okay I took a break to eat something after 5 straight hours of reading

I bet there’s people out there who have read this shit 3 times over but I take so GODDAMN LONG to read anything

And to think. I’m an English major.

Anyway back to it I fucking guess

That’s depression, babe!

I’m heterophobic now

Do I REALLY have to read another Jake-Jane makeout sesh. Do I really.

It turns out that I don’t. thank god.

But that was all still incredibly uncomfortable

CANDY 7

In the time that I was eating I managed to forget that gamzee existed. And now I am reminded. How unfortunate.

I do not often find myself agreeing with John and only John but. Here we are.

Also I am Not Down For johnroxy. Especially with how wack everything is.

Roxy DO NOT leave john alone with this literal clown

Oh fucking Christ

HELLO?? IS THIS ALLOWED???

CANDY 8

The,, hornographer,,,

There’s a third member of their social group who definitely hasn’t arrived at the conclusion that his power and influence should be meted out responsibly either. Neither of them speak his name, however. For some reason, it feels like a shadow passing over the sun. A brief spike of pain flickers through Rose’s head, a bolt that strikes between her eyes and splinters out. There is color and light behind it. A vision that tears through the material reality in front of her and gives her a brief glimpse into a parallel reality where things are very different.

Hm! Not great!

Yes, it would be very awkward

Also, don’t even fuckin g MENTION vriska unless I get to see her

Don’t think I haven’t noticed that this epilogue has been hellishly vriskaless

Like youre gonna make me see GAMZEE MAKARA?? GAMZEE??? WHERE’S VRISKA??

CANDY 9

Jade. Jade. Jade. Fucking CHILL, jade.

CANDY 10

Get you a girl who lesbian marries one of the two remaining eligible human females

Eyes emoji

He whips his head around to see... Dave? He’s running down the street, looking back and forth like a hunted man.

Dave: *is flirted with*

Dave: *books it to an entirely different time zone*

I Love You Dave Strider

Why on EARTH are you going to john Egbert for relationship advice, though

CANDY 11

Daaaaaaave ):

CANDY 12

This is the fucking worst

I hate this so much

CANDY 13

It’s obviously a robot, but it’s a complete mess. The form is feminine, but the head is still bald, and the face has no cover, revealing its skull-like interior. The body doesn’t have any proper protective plating yet, so it’s all a mess of wires and loose mechanical bits. Clearly a work in progress. But Dave can’t help but wonder what exactly it is that Dirk’s been working on here?

Then Dave notices the note. It’s carefully folded in the limp palm of the robot’s hand. His heart jumps into his throat, and something in his stomach drops.

Oh, no.

what the fuck is this fucking robot

Also did dirk fucking kill himself

CANDY 14

We’re back in the 2nd person now for dirk’s shit

What could you accomplish in a dead-end existence like this? There are no stakes. No meaningful challenges. No structures or themes—only residual chemical reactions in a dying brain, a physical system’s obligate compulsion to exhaust its own lingering momentum.

Literally me every time I realize that life isn’t a story and I’m not a character with a heroic arc

And like I get that homestuck has been thematically interested in...well…life not being a story. And I have a feeling that these epilogues are going to cement that, with all the talk of meta/canon. And I can already tell that I’m going to be disappointed with the lack of narrative resolution

Because like…life’s not a story, okay……………but homestuck is

Anyway this fucker is really about to kill himself isn’t he

Yep…jesus.

CANDY 15

Wow this feels INCREDIBLY shitty considering. That’s exactly what happened.

I am not Feeling Great my dudes

Dave’s got his suit jacket unbuttoned and pulled over Karkat’s head to shield him from the rain. Karkat’s the one talking—his caterpillar eyebrows furrowed, but his gaze soft. Whatever he’s saying makes Dave turn his face away, but Karkat winds a hand in his shirt and tugs him in, forces him to make eye contact. They both go still, seeming to finally realize how close their faces have gotten, how Karkat’s fingers are brushing down the length of Dave’s torso. Dave dips down so that their noses are bumping.

I will NOT be distracted by this cute shit

(I am distracted by this cute shit)

Thinking about how roxy said they don’t want to have kids in meat and I’m! Not feeling great about this!

Also I hate that I have to call it ‘meat’

(also the narrator refers to roxy as ‘she’ in candy and so like. Idk which one I’m supposed to use)

CANDY 16

6 month time jump. Very relieved that I don’t have to see the johnroxy wedding

Fucking. Skullface emoji.

Asdasfasljk John don’t dump on your sister like that

Straight fucking savage though I’ll give you that

John and terezi are talking about vriska I’m going to fucking vomit

This is all I’m going to get, huh? Huh????

I’m so starved

Vrisrezi is literally the most compelling part of homestuck and it’s like. So not going to be relevant at all in the epilogue, is it

CANDY 17

Did rose and kanaya literally name their kid ‘vriska’

Like they did not have to do that

John is the only one who hasn’t lost his goddamn mind

Also the idea of someone just changing their kids name a year after they were born is. Hilarious. It’s extra hilarious when you remember that the kids didn’t get a name until they were 13.

John SNAPPED

“please come make sense at me”...This is……..A Lot

CANDY 18

Jane is still dedicated to eugenics which is like. Pretty fucking awful.

You know it’s bad when GAMZEE MAKARA argues with you about morality

Fucking GROSS

Also jake is sitting right next to them akbfdabkjknsfn

Welp! Homestuck’s over, everyone!!!! The furries won!

CANDY 19

I have been reading this goddamn webcomic for 8 goddamn hours

I’m pretty sure that I’m not even halfway through

HIS RELATIONSHIP IS A FLAMING WRECK OF AN INTERSTELLAR WARSHIP HURTLING TOWARDS THE PLANET AT TERMINAL VELOCITY WITH THE ENTIRE CREW BRUTALLY SLAUGHTERED UPON REENTRY, SHOVED STRAIGHT DOWN THE CHAGRIN TUNNEL AND THEN IMMEDIATELY SHAT OUT THE OTHER SIDE, THUS FLOODING THE ENTIRE FUCKING NEIGHBORHOOD WHEN IT CLOGS UP THE LOAD GAPER.

This is what this epilogue has been missing…karkat-isms

Yo WHAT

I probably definitely should’ve read meat all the way through but. Oh well!

I never thought that I would be glad to see a dead teenage jade fall out of the fucking sky but at least its providing a brief reprieve to feeling of absolute dread I’ve had while reading the entire candy section

Also strange that dead teenage space jade is the one thing that DOESN’T fill me with absolute dread

CANDY 20

Karkat SNAPPED

CANDY 21

I somehow managed to forget that calliope exists

Funeral TWO

As fucking rough as dirk’s suicide was, I absolutely cannot imagine him in any of these situations

Like the only narrative choices were to kill him or to lock him away in his lab w/o a single mention of him and I gotta say the former makes more sense given his characterization

I am. Upset.

ARADIA

Aradia please save me from this nightmare

Asdfghjlkjhgf

I changed my mind I love candy

Never mind jane’s talking about eugenics again

I’m laughing???? What the fuck is happening?????

Okay alt calliope is using dead teen space jade’s body as a vessel

Should’ve put two and two together since I got close to that part in meat but I have been reading for like 9 hours and things are starting to blur together

*heavy metal music plays*

CANDY 22

3 year time jump! Alright!

Fucking same, john

Okay so the dead trolls that got consumed by the black hole are showing up on earth c, or something?

WAIT DOES THAT MEAN LORD ENGLISH IS GONNA GET PLOPPED INTO THIS TIMELINE

idk if I’m misunderstanding but……..i am……nervous

Those are my 20-something-year-old children

Cant believe karkat rose and kanaya are in antifa :’)

Actually I can absolutely believe that

I hate this

I was 100% unprepared to see Eridan fucking Ampora in the year of our lord 2019. I’m calling the fucking police

This is the worst

Oh I Do Not Like This

CANDY 23

John was serious about the whole kidnapping thing huh

Christ almighty

SILENCE, CLOWN.

Jokes aside the child abuse is like. Very vey upsetting.

But why has this human child adopted the ‘uh,,’s of Tavros’ quirk

I think I’ve said this before but homestuck is very good, actually

Hm this shit with kid tavros is making me sick to my stomach

Also I’m approaching hour 10 and I may have to take a break for sleep soon.

But. I defo have shit to do this weekend that doesn’t involve reading homestuck

We’ll see how much longer I can stay awake, I guess

Dave said this about dirk (jake also said this about dirk, in meat) and I’m. not psyched about it.

I suppose it’s possible that gamzee retained it from dirks funeral, but still

John has his breath powers back?? Passively, at least?

And where the fuck did alt calliope go

And aradia and sollux

Unfortunately I still think it is kidnapping

Especially because you’re like, 5

It’s probably, like, a bad thing that I was rooting for john’s kidnapping plan to work. But.

CANDY 24

Okay theres alt calliope aradia and sollux

I am. Compromised.

Oh fuck

It’s actually kind of insane that dirk and jane are like. Straight villains. I kinda would’ve guessed w/ jane (relation to the condesce and all that) but dirk being a villain shocked the fuck out of me. it really shouldn’t have, though, considering that dirk was capable of becoming bro.

): ): ): ):

I’m actually tearing up LMAO

I can’t tell if it’s because of how much I love terezi or if it’s because I’ve been reading this for 10 hours straight

Probably both

CANDY 25

Karkat I love you

Also this is buried deep enough in this post so I think it’s safe to say w/o anyone actually reading it: when I was 14 and reading homestuck for the first time I had a crush on karkat and used to daydream about us going on a date at the county fair

I’m sorry to anyone that had to read that with their own eyeballs

Hard labor in the cake mills

Bucket jokes are dead, folks. You heard it here first.

Oh Christ I just remembered that group of cosplayers who took a bucket into a restaurant and passed it around and spit in it. Scandal of the fucking decade.

Asdfghjk KANAYA

This is only going to make things more complicated, I imagine

KARKAT: I’M ALSO FUCKING ORDERING YOU TO STOP MAKING GARBAGE FISH PUNS FOREVER.

LMAO

Okay…on that slightly…lighter note, I think it’s time to turn in for the night. I’m at the 11th hour (literally) and I’m losing my ability to pay attention to what the fuck is going on

Plus my head hurts like a motherfucker

If I remember correctly, each epilogue has 45 parts, so I’m a bit more than halfway done

I’m setting an alarm because I’m dedicated to finishing this tomorrow

CANDY 26

Okay I got my hat on backwards and I’m ready to fucking party

Even Alternia had beauty in it. But John is sure that Earth C probably replicates it the same way it replicates everything else: thin and garish and fake, fake, fakity FAKE. A bad photocopy with the ink settings turned to high contrast. A sunrise that casts no shadows.

This is not a party

Also I’m getting flashbacks to my thesis that I wrote on the left hand of darkness which never shut the fuck up about shadows and the lack thereof

A streak of teal, smudged along the top ridge of the seat cushion, at the center of a red, bloody handprint. With wide eyes, John reaches out and runs his thumb over it. It chips under his nail, the same consistency as human blood. The same color as Terezi’s text.

He rubs the flaky crust between his fingers. He only stopped talking to her a few hours ago. Time passes differently out there, as he’s often reminded. She was so sure she was dying. Was this it? Was this how she —

John reels back, nausea striking him in the pit of his stomach. What kind of twisted coincidence is this? Why is he finding this now? If Terezi was here, why? Who was she bleeding with in the back of his father’s car?

I’m guessing john was bleeding with terezi in the back of his father’s car?

I mean when I left off with meat terezi had just shown up to find john impaled in the chest with one of LE’s teeth

But I’m like. SUPER not psyched to learn what happened to terezi

A choked sob forces its way out of his chest. His fingers flex into claws, gathering up dirt into his shaking fists. He bears down until his knuckles turn white and his fingernails press sharply into the flesh of his palms. The pain makes him feel real.

All he’s ever wanted is to be fucking real.

Maybe it’s because this is the first thing I’m reading this morning but I absolutely cannot take this seriously

CANDY 27

Ten year time skip. Jesus.

So everyones in their late 30s, now

I’m love them?

Also things are super not great on earth c, huh

Like imagine being jane crocker & playing a game where all your friends die a bunch & then showing up to an idyllic planet and being like ‘you know what this world needs more of? Fascism and eugenics.’

Also didn’t jane’s dad make it onto earth c??? where is THAT motherfucker??

I’m glad that sollux and aradia are still like. Chillin.

Karkat sure does know how to sweet-talk people

Also karkat still misses dave ):

And dave still misses karkat ):

This is so fucking rough

CANDY 28

VRISKA???

Yeah this is the vriska that got punted by LE after releasing the juju

She is taking things as well as I would imagine vriska to take things

CANDY 29

These chapters are getting shorter. Maybe I’ll actually finish this today

…lord English?

CANDY 30

Okay, so jane’s dad was on earth c, and now he’s dead

Jesus Christ

I shouldn’t be laughing but adjsgklfgfs

Leave it to karkat to try to assassinate someone with a fucking rocket launcher

Also leave it to dad to jump in front of a FUCKING ROCKET LAUNCHER

I cant believe gamzee fucking Makara is still here. I was hoping that had all been a nightmare

Yikes! Yikes! Yikes! Yikes!

Asdfghjkjhgfdsdfghjkjhgfdsdfghjkljhgfrvghkhgf

I-

I don’t know how I didn’t see this coming

BEGONE, CLOWN

CANDY 31

I missed their interactions

John is so fucking funny sometimes

I’m laughimg so fucking hard

Also I’m going to keep calling her vriska and calling rose and kanaya’s child ‘kid vriska.’ Otherwise I will get incredibly confused between this vriska and actual (vriska)

Vriska I love you

Also I like how john straight up hates kid vriska

God she’s so intolerable. I love her.

Also vriska and dirk are so similar but I love vriska and can’t stand dirk

am I a misandrist

(I know it’s probably their differences; vriska is dedicated to being a hero and not a author/villain(?) and still, like, values people, even if it is in her own fucked up way. Also she’s like a billion times more critical of herself than dirk is)

oh god theyre talking about terezi

yeah that didn’t go anywhere I wanted it to

CANDY 32

fukcing. Gamzee.

Please god vriska beat this clowns ass

“brutal Double Axe Handle” “European-style Uppercut” “knife chop” “Discus Back Elbow”

Am I supposed to know what any of this means

I like how john is just watching this happen

Gamzee grabs (Vriska)’s foot by the bridge. Instead of yanking her off-balance, he opens his huge, bloody maw of a mouth and... runs his tongue along the rubber bottom of her shoe? (Vriska) freezes. She watches him lap the mud—and his own blood—out from between the grooves of the sole. His lips drag lewdly over the ridge of her footwear and begin sucking at where her big toe would be, if it were not safely ensconced in several layers of rubber and canvas.

Fucking GROSS

I hate this clown so goddamn much

This is the absolute Worst Outcome

Like I cannot imagine a more upsetting scenario than gamzee and vriska making out in canon

Dirk’s suicide would be a fucking palate cleanser at this point

That was a bad joke to make but that’s what homestuck does to you I fucking guess

CANDY 33

*I* don’t even remember the three pillars of canon

And I read that shit literally yesterday

I, unfortunately, have no idea what this means

Well. At least rose is happy. For the first time in the entirety of homestuck.

CANDY 34

“immoderately lit”

I’m going to say that all the time now. Thanks.

Vriska’s huge, mischievous smile freezes on her face. When her eyes pass the image to her brain, and it finally makes sense of this incomprehensible jumble of gray limbs, blue and purple slop, tangled black hair, and stunned faces, her expression begins to slowly melt. It then drifts quickly, from phase to phase, to one of wonder, then anguish, and finally, abject horror.

This is so fucking unfortunate

CANDY 35

At least all the vriskas are on the same page about this being the nightmare scenario. At least theres that.

Gamzee calling vriska “problematic.” I’m laughing really hard but I’m also like. Enraged.

And then, she lets go. His face is frozen in a repellent mask exhibiting the perfectly undetectable difference between terror and ecstasy. He’s dead.

I hope to GOD this is true but I’ve been tricked before

I don’t know if I will ever be truly free of gamzee fucking Makara

CANDY 36

Jake and his kid showed up to johns house and jake is wearing nothing but underwear

At this point this is one of the least strange things to happen

All the same, John finds it hard to feel much sympathy. Who is Jake? The one standing in front of him now, anyway. Has he always been this contemptibly pathetic, or is this too a function of the absurdity of this contorted reality? It’s hard to be sure. Are Jake’s “struggles” worth any more of John’s guilt and emotional energy than a Sim stuck in a pool without a ladder?

Jesus Christ. John did not come to play today. Fuck.

Also I feel incredibly bad for jake. I’ve never liked him but I’m not, like, a monster.

Or maybe he is doing exactly what Jake has always done. In a certain light, isn’t ascribing all this mess to some unconscious influence he might have had over the metaphysical shape of reality just a way to brush off his simpler failures as a man and a father?

God why is homestuck kicking my ass so bad

John constantly misses his dad and all I can think about is how often his dad told him that he was proud of him. And now john thinks he’s failed as a father.

John and jake are. Dancing.

I absolutely have not forgotten that jake is still in his underwear

CANDY 37

I’m living for this conversation between vriska and kid-vriska

Man I bet dirk hates john’s guts LOL

Like I imagine john’s retcon powers infuriate him

Though I bet dirk wouldn’t want the retcon powers for himself. It might take away the “challenge” of it. Idk.

Jesus Christ

How the turntables….

I Am Going To Vomit

Vrisrezi is so fucking legendary. No one can ever change my mind.

I also I just ate a ham and cheese sandwich and it was really fucking gross. Legit cant tell if I’m nauseous about that or vrisrezi

[CHANTING] VRISKA AND TEREZI ARE IN LOVE! VRISKA AND TEREZI ARE IN LOVE! VRISKA AND TEREZI ARE IN LOVE!

I’M SHAKING I FEEL SO VINDICATED RN

I forgive all the other dumb shit in this epilogue

Seriously. Transcends quadrants. I have been saying this for half a fucking decade. Vriska and terezi are in gay love. Eat shit, haters.

Asdfghjkl

I hate this stupid webcomic

I have nothing intelligent left to say anymore (as if I ever had anything intelligent to say) but. Homestuck good.

I am going to Lose My Shit

CANDY 38

Thank Fucking God

Also ever since dead teen space jade fell out of the sky, all of the characters have felt a lot more real

I’m not sure if that’s in the narrative or that’s just me getting over my disgruntlement at the incredibly batshit things happening in candy

Hatchi fucking matchi

Also getting some real dirk-fading-into-the-ether vibes from john here

Roxy is fucking laying into john damn

But it’s not like they arent making completely valid points

………..hmm……..

God I’m so depressed

I’ve spent 80% of my life worried that I’m doing the Important and Right thing

And in the last 4-5 years I’ve been confronted with my cosmic insignificance and I have not been able to get over it

Like I get it’s kind of asshole-ish. Narcissistic. Selfish. To think of your life and the people in it as something….sidelined. and to be all mopey over that.

I WANT to be all “who cares” about it because thinking that your life has any Grand Significance In The Scope Of The Infinite Universe is 100% impractical and frankly batshit

This is all to say that I have problems and homestuck if calling me tf out

CANDY 39

dave is in the FUCKING WHITE HOUSE

I swear to god if Obama shows up I will shit my fucking pants

He steps closer to investigate, wiping away at the layers of moss and dirt to reveal a surface he most certainly does recognize. It’s a transportalizer.

I am shaking in anticipation

It’s a mounted god tier costume, about the size an adult male would wear. He recognizes the symbol. It’s the same one Jake used to wear when they were teens. It is the symbol for Hope.

Obama played fucking sburb didn’t he

Why is homestuck so fucking funny

OBAMA LMAOOOOOOOOO

This is the most homestuck thing to ever happen in homestuck

Hologram throwing all this inspiring bullshit at dave and dave just repeatedly asking how Obama died

He tells himself there’s nothing wrong with crying. Of course there isn’t. Just... not in front of Obama. He’s GOT to keep it together.

I’m just gonna. Put this here.

Obama ships davekat

Daaaaaave ): ): ):

Yes I’m 21 years old yes I’m tearing up at a conversation between a fictionalized barrack obama and a fictional man who wears sunglasses from a ben stiller movie all the time

Hate this fucking comic LOL

“wake up”. What. What is happening.

The sliding panel reveals a recess, and in the recess stands a robot. It’s a gleaming, polished silver replica of Dave, but without shades. It stands totally still, unpowered. Dave struggles to make sense of what he’s looking at.

Is THIS the robot that dirk was building??

Wait Obama said he built it

What the actual fuck

Fucking. WHAT. DAVBOT?

This is so fucking weird

CANDY 40

Asdfghjkl

I love you aradia

Wow that conversation was…………..something

So calliope is fighting dirk for control of the narrative?

and dirk is like, an irresponsible author

especially interesting convo in light of dirk’s status as andrew’s self-insert

also I knew LE was gonna show up

CANDY POSTSCRIPT

rose…..bot……………..

I’ve got a bad feeling about this scoob

Also not feeling great about fucking davebot

That’s it for candy……………………..

Hopefully meat is more conclusive that

I’ve been reading for 15 total hours now

Might as well keep going

MEAT 25

Didn’t think I’d actually do it, huh?? Snide bastard

Also rose is going to straight die real soon isn’t she

And then become rosebot

Oh fuck right off

MEAT 26

Get wrecked you punk-ass bitch

MEAT 27

Okay so alt calliope is taking over jades body in this reality. Cool cool.

Also. Interesting that calliope said the way events are telegraphed, not what events are telegraphed. Goes back to importance of the speaker convo from candy

Dirk’s text is getting smaller asfgshfjk

Also good to know that calliope is completely Freaked The Fuck Out in this reality too, re: alt calliope occupying jade’s body

……….man

Also I’ve said this before but. Dirk and vriska. Are so alike.

MEAT 28

Terezi dear god I fucking missed you

It probably hasn’t been that long but it feels like forever

Yeah I suppose terezi’s been talking w/ the john that’s aged into his 30s

Also I was thinking about this lastnight & I forgot that time works different here in ye olde paradox space and I was kinda super weirded out thinking about a 30 y/o john flirting with terezi. I actually had a nightmare about it lmao. But this morning I remembered that terezis probably been at this forever.

I think the fact that john is even worried about this at all means he’s in pretty good shape

John: *thinks a girl is cute*

John: oh shit am I being a creep

Okay, terezi says she feels like she’s been out there for a hundred sweeps. That defo makes me feel better about her and john flirting

Okay, so I was right. John was the one bleeding in the car

Terezi’s not bleeding though so I am. Nervous to find out how that happens.

OF COURSE terezi is still looking for vriska, you fucking goon. Theyre in love.

Though I gotta say I wasn’t that down with johnrezi before the epilogue but. I have to say. It’s actually very cute.

Terezi just. Ate shaving cream.

MEAT 29

Oh, hi, jane

I kinda forgot how far along she is in her development as a full-blown fascist in this timeline

Dirk: *speaks*

Me: bitch

Jesus Christ

Waiting for dirk to call jane problematic

Calliope SNAPPED

MEAT 30

Why is karkat hiking around in a fucking suit

I love karkat

I love dave

Dave starting to explain super pacs to jake

And using sbahj for campaign ads asgdhadkjl

Why is he like this (I say, fondly)

Dirk is really out here being Like That

I’m

I have no words

Also I promise that this is unrelated but jake has inexplicably grown on me a little (not a lot)

MEAT 31

Now terezi is eating tobacco

She’s disgusting. I love her.

Terezi ):

John: *talks about how great terezi is*

Me: *nods solemnly*

I Am In Pain

GOD I love Terezi

Terezi: hold on. Lemme just do an impromptu surgery real quick.

Terezi: *is, very unsurprisingly, turned on by doing an impromptu surgery*

Oh ok this is happening

Good thing I found the time to get down w/ johnrezi I fucking guess

Not completely sure how I feel about this

MEAT 32

Is dirk about to fucking assassinate jake

He wouldn’t do that right

Dirk said transphobe rights??

God I hate this motherfucker

Dave: come…’out.’ What is this you speak of.

Roxy, dave, and alt calliope: Let’s talk about gender

Okay, so. Assassinating jake is something that dirk WOULD do

Calliope struggling to keep dirk back w/ the power of their narration is very fun to read though

Dirk: *slices the bell in half*

Me: that would’ve…made good content for a flash

Not to sound ungrateful but not one panel? Not one flash animation? Instead I have to read all these WORDS?

Of course if this were in a flash animation I probably wouldn’t understand fuckall of what is going on

On the other hand, it wouldn’t be taking me a billion years to get through this

God can roxy please get a pair of sunglasses to match dave. Please.

Hour? 17.5? Maybe?

Anyway I am being forced to take a break so I can participate in easter festivities (by which I mean eating dinner with 2 whole people)

Okay I’m back

I defo should be able to finish this tonight

Okay I guess killing Jake is NOT something that Dirk would do

At least. Not right now. And probably not permanently

dude…

you got to FLIP it

TURN-WAYS

Time to be back on dirk’s bullshit I guess

Meat 33

In the two hours that I was gone I managed to forget that john and terezi boned

Dirk saying things like “incel” and “cuck” make me want to Kill

Meat 34

Wow it so incredibly awful to read Dirk’s narration

I hate this stupid motherfucker so fucking much

Meat 35

*sees more orange text* oh jesus Christ

God why is he being so fucking cruel

Also if john dies then like. WHAT is the point.

Aw man I’m fucking crying

Man what the fuck

This shit fucking sucks

I gotta take a break

Meat 36

Now that I’ve taken like a 5 minute break to stop fucking crying it’s time to get back on the pain train I guess

Since I actually let Tears Fall there’s an increased chance that I’ll cry again

So I cannot be held accountable if I do that

Why the fuck does this clown keep misgendering roxy

Terezi: *pulls johns corpse out of a wallet to smell it* nothing weird about this

Also how tf is terezi gonna show back up shortly after john goes missing and no ones gonna suspect anything

Is it vriska. It’s vriska isn’t it.

Why do I feel like I’m either never going to get to see this conversation or I AM going to get to see it and its going to cause me immense personal distress

TEREZI SAID TRANS RIGHTS

Also terezi can hear dirk???????????

And are roxy’s pronouns him or them

Like did terezi just assume based on roxy’s appearance or did she talk to kanaya about it

Also I hate dirk’s stupid fucking guts

It does NOT help that I didn’t like him before the epilogue

God he sucks shit

Say it with me, now: we love terezi pyrope

Terezi DO NOT trust this clown ass motherfucker

Meat 37

Dirk is actually the worst dad. Don’t sweat it, john.

ROSE: Are you sure Kanaya is going to be ok with this?

No, rose. She absolutely will not be ok with this. What the fuck.

This shit sucks so goddamn much

I am going to be so depressed after finishing this arent I

Goddammit I’m crying again. I fucking knew I would.

Meat 38

Unfortunately I agree with dirk

FUCK

Davekat is so GOOD what the hell

Also

Karkat ):

Dirk will you fucking fuck off

I’m seriously okay with dave and karkat hopelessly pining forever if it means dirk doesn’t literally FORCE them to kiss. Like, what the fuck.

I take a deep breath and get myself under control. My light psychological intrusions may have only made things worse. Invested as I am in the outcome of this encounter, I know forcing their hand would be a mistake.

That’s the smartest thing you ever said you stupid fuck

Thank Fucking God

Meat 39

I’m nearing the end of this whole things and dirk still has narrative control. Not psyched about that.

He’s gently stroking the side of my arm now, making no effort to disguise his interest in the contours of my muscles. I use that arm to put a hand on his shoulder in an affable way, so that he’s forced to stop.

Dirk: I heard that Dirk has an 8-pack

Wait I already think I made that joke

He takes in every drop of light reflecting from my beautiful face. The sculpted cheekbones, the warrior’s eyebrows, the deadly serious yet exquisitely kissable mouth. This is the face he lives for now. A visage that, in mere minutes, will vanish from his life forever. The tears drop. His voice cracks.

Fuck OFF dude. I hate you so goddamn much.

I miss gamzee. GAMZEE. Can you believe that shit?????????

Also it’s so incredibly shitty that jane won the election against karkat

like there’s no way there’s gonna be any kind of resistance now for like, plenty of reasons, one being that it wouldn’t even start in the first place. Now jane’s gonna slide to Literal Genocide but with no opposition this time

god this is wack

Meat 40

I am so tired of seeing this fools orange text

Please god

Also I hate that homestuck has me counting exclamation marks to make sure theres not a significant number of them (8. 8 is the significant number)

Thinking about dave’s speech at dirk’s funeral and Not Feeling Great

Does dirk actually think dave is going to be the one to kill him or is that just his weird decapitation fetish talking

Meat 41

Kanaya I love you and this is not your fault but jesus Christ

Kanaya: I Have Been Bamboozled

Oh shes fucking mad

KANAYA: ***I SWEAR THAT I SHALL MAKE HIM PAY DEARLY FOR STEALING MY BELOVED WIFE!***

I know that I’ll never see it happen but I hope kanaya beats dirks ass into the goddamn ground

Remember when chainsawed eridan in half and put on bloodied lipstick afterward? That’s the shit I’m talking about

Welp. Bye, jade.

Fucking. My sentiments exactly.

Alright alt calliope is using ‘he’ pronouns w/ Roxy so I’m assuming that’s right, considering alt calliope has access to Roxy’s thoughts and shit

fuck you you punk-ass bitch

Meat 43

I have never in my life been more relieved to see red text instead of orange

Things are still pretty fucking awful, though. I haven’t forgotten that.

sdfghjkl

see things are 100% Very Bad rn but this isn’t like completely impossible to read? Like I enjoyed parts of the epilogue, didn’t enjoy other parts. But the a lot of the parts I didn’t enjoy just were so painful to read. It was damn near impossible sometimes. And like, I get what you’re trying to do, but imo tough subjects don’t necessarily need to be written in a way that makes me so viscerally upset lol

anyway what I’m saying is that I’m not viscerally upset right now. Considering I’m nearing the end, this is a good thing.

karkat is talking about how dumb the concept of incest is and is being a jerk about how roxy’s dressed. I am upset again.

Thank god dave is here to save the fucking day

I just sneezed and heard crackling in my ears. I’ve been hearing shit like that for a solid two months now. Is there fluid in my ears? Do I have an ear infection? How long do ear infections last?

I’m love them

They still don’t know john is dead ): ): ):

Thank fucking god

At least there’s the possibility that they’ll see john again and that calliope is going to provide some fucking guidance

Also arent epilogues supposed to RESOLVE SHIT and not like. Leave me hanging like this. I can tell it’s to leave me hanging and listen. Listen. I just want to be free.

I’m going to be 40 goddamn years old and homestuck: the sequel is going to come out and the characters are going to be 42 and dealing with the exact issues that I’m dealing with as a 40 year old and it’ll launch me into an at-least-a-month-long spiral of fruitless self-reflection while I cry about it

Oh god fucking dammit

What was his sacrifice, even? Having sex with terezi?

Sorry. I’m just bitter.

In any case, in addition to like, weakening LE enough for alt calliope to presumably kill him, I do think it has something to do with terezi. I don’t think her role in things is quite over yet.

Meat Postscript

Okay so we’re back to candy?

Or, at least, where candy left off

Did. Alt calliope eat LE. Is that what happens when cherubs defeat one another. Did I manage to forget this cannibalistic detail.

Did dirk influence Obama to make davebot so davebot could join forces with alt-calliope to go against dirk, or was that Obama intentionally going up against dirk

Did I really type that sentence with my own fingers

The hole leaves behind an absence in the sky so calm that continuing to call it a sky wouldn’t seem to do it justice. It’s a perfectly neutral expanse into which anything one can imagine might be summoned. And for a while, anything was. But not anymore. Where the hole gaped just moments ago, there now exists an imaginary line.

Above this line resides all that matters. Below exists all else. Never again the twain shall meet.

These are a dope couple of paragraphs

Also I know that this probably goes against everything I just read but I hope this means I never have to read about an offshoot timeline again

Like I get that that was all Homestuck Brand Fuckery but I need like 300 months to recover

21 hours of reading later and I don’t really know what to

#derseday #homestuck #upd8 #also this looks fucking wack on mobile #so dont even look i guess

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hawkeyebabe · 5 years

Text

Petrol Soaked Papers, Chp. 2

Me 6 weeks ago: “Hey guys! Can’t wait to post a chapter every week!” Proceeds to move cross-country, plummet into a whirlpool of a quarter-life crisis (the third one in four years), and experience a bitch-slap from this whore called Life.

I’m sorry guys...I’ve been rather inactive. I even had all of this written long ago, I just didn’t have the energy to post it. I hope it’s mildly worth the wait -- it’s extra long, at least <3

Chapter Two: A Fight Worth Losing Previous Chapter AO3

Though she expected a struggle, waking at 0400 to meet General Mustang at 0435 was rather easy. Unable to sleep well the night prior, a racing mind battling with an overactive dreamstate, she’d found herself entirely awake by 0335 and spent the freetime reading over hot tea, the mug allowing the drifting wafts of steam to warm her tired face.

She once fantasized that the dreams would lessen after giving back to Ishval, and after earning the people’s trust. The night terror that had accompanied her that first sleep however, the memories more vivid than they had ever been before, forcing her awake with such violence as she felt phantom blood coating her shaking hands and her turmoil so fresh it manifested itself in the form of a sheet of sweat --- she realized that that had been a child’s wish.

She kept her belongings -- just a few pairs of clothes and toiletries -- in a small briefcase and shut the door behind her, stepping out into the desert night. She, Falman, and Mustang were the only constant Amestrans in Ishval, and their quarters were practically across the dirt path from one another. Scar, who acted as the Ishvalan Grand Cleric, wished to live among his people in the neighborhoods. A few empty shacks which were used for visitors or temporarily stationed officers sat gathering dust. Since the Trials, the following peace demanded only the three of them and the empty shacks welcomed nobody.

To her surprise, and impressment, Mustang was stood as a dark shadow outside her door. She’d convinced herself that her fist would be knocking on his door, for since she had known the man, departing his bed before the sun rose was a task he never quite mastered.

“Hey,” he said with a tired smile. She noticed the buttons of his long-sleeved shirt were one off-center, leaving an inch of material hanging clumsily at the bottom.

“Hi, General.”

“Wow…” He blinked away the sleepiness in his eyes and leaned forward several inches.

She stared back at him.

“What is it?”

“Your hair!” he almost exclaimed, truly surprised. “It’s gotten so long.”

With eyebrows perched upwards, Riza lifted a hand. So exhausted from the lack of sleep, she’d entirely forgotten to do anything with it. Actually, she then realized, she hadn’t even bothered looking at it, and she suddenly felt somewhat self-conscious that it was standing on end or tangled into knots. She stopped herself from toying with it.

“It’s nice,” he said casually, easing her worries, as he motioned his head over his shoulder to suggest they begin walking.

“Thank you, sir. Actually, I’d just noticed its length the other day myself.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen it down for awhile. We’re always in uniform.”

Yes, they were. It seemed as though they lived in them, actually. Twelve hour workdays were common, and seeing one another outside of work hours was rare when work hours constituted an entire day.

Being in civilian clothes, as they were then, was a pleasant thing. Black slacks and a tan blouse, though simple, was the most comfortable thing she’d worn in what could have been a lifetime.

“Yours is getting a little long too, sir,” Riza teased dryly, her eyes roaming over his unkempt head. “You may want to consider a barber.”

“Don’t you think I should grow it out like yours?”

This earned him a genuine smile.

“I really do not, no.”

“Alright. Seeing as we’ll be in Central, I suppose it isn’t the worst idea. God knows there’s nowhere for me to get it done when we come back here.”

“I bet Kira would do it if you asked nicely.”

“Aroe’s five year old?”

“That’s right.”

“I hope you find yourself funny, Captain.”

Her teeth showed in a silent smile. He looked over at her, his eyes taking in the grin.

“Oh,” he pronounced. “Good. You do find yourself funny.”

“Only sometimes,” she assured him. A kinyee chattered in the distance, and its pack answered a moment later. “How do you think Vato will find having this place to himself?” she asked as their boots scraped across the road. Mustang chuckled.

“He’s never been given much opportunity to run anything himself. I think he’ll like it. Maybe it’ll get him to test for 1st lieutenant when January rolls around.”

“I doubt it,” said Riza fondly. “He’s never found much interest in rank. Just as long as he’s contributing, which he’s done enough of already, he’s satisfied. At least, that’s my theory. Power isn’t his supplier.”

“Well,” he looked down at her and gave her wink, which she ignored to notice how it seemed to warm her fingertips. “He is alone in that.”

They came upon the general’s car and drove to the station in the neighboring town of Khao. Ishval itself didn’t have a train depot, though that was another object of affection they’d been vying for.

“By the way, General,” Riza said, turning her head over her shoulder as she climbed up the steps onto the train. “You may want to re-button your shirt.”

His head jerked downwards, then returned to her with equal speed.

“How long has it been like that?” he yelled, though the cry was barely heard over the sound of the whistling engine.

“Well, probably since you put the shirt on, sir.”

“Damn you, Hawkeye. You could have told me in the car.”

“Honestly sir, I forgot. I figured now was a good time as any.”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

The journey from Khao to Central Station was one of five hours. After failing to hypothesize the reason for the council, Riza and her general soon fell into a mutual tired silence and Riza’s eyes became heavy. She fought it for some time, but the car was warm and General Mustang was quiet in thought as he stared out the window, the glass framed in condensation. The image was a peaceful one. For so long, she had been surrounded by tension in the form of every figure she passed, every step she took, every grain of sand that blasted into her cheeks. Every anxiety, every day. Sitting there silently as the train rolled through the countryside, the autumn air stopped by the glass and mirrored by warmness inside, Riza felt, not lightly to say, comfortable.

It didn’t take long for her to surrender into a relaxed sleep.

“Captain…” he said gently. It failed to wake her, and he found he truly did not wish to. He placed his palm on her shoulder. “Captain, we’re here.”

Finally, her eyes peeled open, and she seemed to register his presence. Awareness filled her features.

“Oh, sorry, General,” she said quietly as she sat herself up.

“You must have been pretty tired.”

“Weren’t you?” she asked as she stood and gathered her briefcase. She followed him out of the car.

“I was.”

“But you don’t regularly have the capacity to sleep on trains,” she said behind him.

It wasn’t a question or an accusation, but only a statement. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling to himself as he stepped off onto the platform, greeted by the natural sunlight streaming through the many open windows and the exposed roof of the station. Birds flew around overhead, transferring from one steel beam to the next.

“That’s right,” he answered, though she couldn’t hear him over the bustle of the crowds, people flowing off the trains and wading towards the exit like a herd.

Central Station was near to Central headquarters, and they found themselves inside the building with 25 minutes to spare to change into uniform and give a quick hello to Lieutenant Havoc.

“Well, come by afterwords and let’s grab lunch or something!” Havoc said as they turned to leave. Roy, without looking back, lifted a thumbs up into the air.

“Will do, Jean.”

The council was scheduled to begin in ten minutes in a conference area on the second floor. Neither of them felt privy to being late, so they agreed to arrive early and await the remaining seat holders. After all, they wished to make a positive impression. Should this pertain to Ishval, many Amestrians, molded by prejudice, needed a progressive nurture. Roy opened the door for them both and he followed Hawkeye into the room.

Eight men sat waiting, each looking up at the arriving officers in unison like their heads were connected by string. Confusion was quick to find he and Hawkeye both, though she did not display it like he surely did.

“Oh,” said Mustang quickly. “My apologies, sirs, we were told to arrive at 1100…”

“That’s correct, General Mustang,” said General Fillbin at the head of the table. “Don’t worry, you’re not late.”

A familiar face shined like a light, and Roy’s eyes landed on Fuhrer Grumman. The Fuhrer, to only deepen Roy’s state of confusion and rising suspicion, looked troubled.

“But,” continued Fillbin. “We’ll actually only be needing you for this council, General, so please take a seat.”

Fillbin looked at Hawkeye and gave her a smile that seemed almost patronizing, though innocent enough, and something not too foreign lit up in the center of Roy’s chest. Not being one to follow the orders of any man but one, Roy saw her turn her head to look at him, confused, but awaiting his word regardless. Roy did not meet her eye, and only stared at the three star general.

“My captain was summoned as I was, General Fillban.”

“I understand that, but she will not be needed for this discussion.”

Finally, Roy looked down at her. It seemed as though the decision was made; perhaps there had been a mistake or a change of plans, and there was no way to notify them on short notice. Perhaps it was something else. Accepting this, Roy nodded to her. Her boots clicked as she snapped to attention, offered a salute to the board, and turned on her heels to leave. The door shut behind her, and he moved to sit.

“How was the train ride, General Mustang?” asked another officer, a major general named Foy Bakers. This was a kind man, one of stature and smiles. Roy always liked him as a person, though his non-confrontational demeanor was not well suited for his position. Still, Roy felt more at ease as he lowered himself in the chair beside him.

“It was very smooth, thank you, General Bakers.”

Roy flicked his eyes to Grumman’s again, but they were on the officer who sat across from Roy. He dared a glance before giving his attention back to Fillban. It was a man he did not know.

“Mustang,” said Fillban. “I’ve called this council for a very, very important reason. We’re having some...obstacles, in Roxwell Post.”

“Roxwell Post? That small town in the West?”

“That’s right.”

“Alright...what kind of obstacles?”

“There is a pastoral nomadic group out there, wandering and herding cattle, hunting in the forests. Creating a lifestyle, a small community.”

“Yes?” he prodded, agitation beginning to creep into his knuckles.

“Well, there is something very disconcerting about them, and who they are.”

Something was perplexing about this council. Had they summoned him from his incredibly important post in Ishval for this? For a group of wanderers?

“Yes, General Fillban?” he pressed. Could this conglomerate collection of decorated generals not handle this without him? Anger began to simmer, and he suppressed his still fresh agitation at the dismissal of his adjutant so as to remain

Fillban, unaware of his fumings, continued.

“We’ve received intel that a group of Drachma spies have infiltrated this group, and are possibly grooming them for an attack on West City.”

Roy’s spiting monologue halted, and his mouth parted as he prepared, and failed, to say something. He leaned back in his chair and blinked away the surprise.

“Uh...okay.” He glanced around at the faces sat round the table. “Does everyone know of this? Am I alone in just learning this information?”

“General Mustang,” Fillban said soothingly, an attempt to calm Roy before answering. “This wasn’t of your concern until we learned of new details only two days ago. And unfortunately...this is of your concern now.”

“Well,” Roy laughed without a trace of humor, “dammit, Fillban, fill me in here because I am quite obviously missing some key point, as a couple of gullible shepherds is hardly my goddamn specific concern considering I have other very important things going on right now. Don’t you have some other general putzing around here that needs something to do? Because I assure you, that man is not me.”

Roy was leaned entirely forward, his elbows square against the wooden table as he locked eyes with the general at the head of it. The absence of his captain was a blessing, suddenly, for if she heard him speak to a superior officer in such a manner she would have berated him for hours.

“Roy,” pushed Fillban sympathetically, matching his lean forward with a slow shake of his head. “The pastoral nomads are Ishvalan.”

Quite suddenly, Roy forgot anything he’d been thinking. Hot breath stuck in his throat like a rock, his annoyance blown out like a candle.

Ishvalan? That simple detail suddenly changed everything, and his place in the meeting became entirely apparent.

“We’re not completely certain why there’s a small community of Ishvalans all the way out in the West,” continued Fillban. “But we believe it’s possible they were refugees who escaped during the war, traveled as far as they could, and found a way of life in the pastures. The Drachma…”

Fillban sighed deeply and put his hand up to his forehead, his eyes glancing down at the wood.

“It’s only intel, but it is trustworthy. Their intentions, their methods, their entire mission is a mystery to us. However…” The look he gave Roy was a serious one, and Roy finally saw a general who seemed almost as exhausted as he was himself. “These Ishvalans, living in seclusion, avoiding the public eye, may not be aware of a great deal of things, including the Promised Day or the current efforts to rebuild their land. And the Drachma clearly have no allies within our border. Befriending these people for the purpose of a mutual attack is not something I would disconsider.”

Roy’s mouth was fully open, his chest still and his body even moreso. Images spat at him like a loaded slingshot, pictures of what he one day prayed to see: Ishvalans having families, growing their population, temples being erected in every major city so the people were free to express their faith in any place of the country, watching dark skinned people with red eyes shopping in markets and smiling with their children, letting them pick out candies or fruits and shaking the hands of the Amestrian vendors...he prayed for a time when one day, Ishvalans not only trusted the rest of Amestris, but the rest of Amestris disposed of their prejudice and trusted Ishvalans.

The words that had come from General Fillban’s mouth put all of those hopes into jeopardy.

He thought of how this news would so greatly disappoint his captain.

“Before you fret too much, General, we have begun preparing a team to deploy and intercept the Ishvalan nomads, in hopes of severing their ties and arresting the spies.”

Roy cleared his throat and gathered himself.

“Good. I’m certain if I spoke with the diplomats in Ishval, one of them would be happy to accompany. Having one of their own support our claims would prove monumental.”

“We’ve already employed an Ishvalan Shi’eq, actually. His name is Imam Klayton.” Fillban took a moment before adding, “But I’m glad you mutually understand why he is on this very important team.”

“Of course I would,” Roy countered, his head tilting. The comment seemed out of place. “Why wouldn’t I? In fact, a Shi’eq is the best possible person to send. A religious leader is more prone to trust and immune to lies, in the eyes of the Ishvalans. With luck, they will believe him. Who else is apart of this team? I intend on speaking with them before they leave, and I’d like their names and serial numbers.” This, he realized, was of absolute, paramount importance. He and Hawkeye would spend the night researching these people, reading any transgressions, studying references, and preparing lectures on what and what not to say to the Ishvalan nomads once they made contact.

“Of course,” indulged Fillban. “Leading the squad will be,” he motioned to the man sitting across Roy, “First General Joshuayne Boswick.”

Without moving his head, Roy glanced over at the man and gave him a nod.

“As I previously mentioned, Shi’eq Imam Klayton, a first lieutenant named Chile Spellman, a major named Borin Temstral, and,” he seemed to take the smallest precautionary sigh, “Captain Riza Hawkeye.”

A beat passed, then Roy’s head jerked backwards as if he were physically struck.

“Excuse me?”

“I understand her adjuncy is of importance to you, but her skills are well suited for---”

“No, absolutely not. I’m sorry gentlemen,” he lifted a hand to the man across from him, “General Boswick, but she is not available for commission. She stays in Ishval with me.”

“General,” reasoned Fillban. “It’s been decided by the council. All of these people were specifically chosen for this mission.”

“I do not give a damn, find another marksman.”

This caused the eyebrows of Fillban to shoot up to his hairline.

“If I may say, General Mustang…” said a new voice. Roy slowly turned his head to look at the unknown man, Boswick, across from him.

“Your captain can be a turning point for this mission. Although true her skills as a marksman and soldier may prove invaluable should we cross paths with the Drachma, it’s her relationship with Ishval that’s really selling. Her, in combination with the Shi’eq, could sway these people in a matter of minutes.”

Logically, Roy could not contest this.

However, it wasn’t logic that was making his stomach churn. He could not quite place what was; perhaps it was his anger, unbidden, and unmistakable.

“I’m sorry…” Roy pronounced without a hint of apology, his voice a staccato. “Was it decided, without my input, that a critical component of my Ishvalan efforts would be stripped of me? Is that what I am gathering? That you decided to put Riza Hawkeye on your list without even consulting me? Her direct superior?”

“We only just learned that these nomads were Ishvalan the other day, General,” cautioned Fillban, his hand moving as he spoke. The lines on his face were deep. “We only just contacted Imam last night.”

“You reassigned her without telling me, General Fillban, and that is a direct violation of our chain of command.”

“Actually,” started Boswick. Something about the man made Roy clench his jaw repeatedly, and he chomped down on his teeth as he looked back at him once more. “In times of crises, should the decision be time sensitive and/or critical to human life, chain of command may be overruled when agreed upon by a council.”

Boswick looked at the other men, at Fillban, Bakers, and the ever silent fuhrer, before returning his gaze to Roy.

“And this council agreed on the reassignment.”

“I understand your resistance, General Mustang,” Fillban interjected carefully. “But know that the decision did not come lightly. And what’s done is done.”

Roy pulled his lips into a tight line, his chest threatening to implode.

“And when does this squadron deploy?”

“Before the sun sets tonight.”

The churning inside his stomach was nearing a whirlpool of madness, and it took every ounce of restraint not to scoff in the faces of these very high ranked men.

“The summon you sent me said to pack for several days?”

“That was for your captain. Although, her absence will surely be longer than that allotted time. I’m sorry, we couldn’t elaborate in writing.”

“Fantastic.”

“She’s to report to the armory by seven.”

To this, Roy said nothing.

“I expect you will wish to debrief her?”

He suffocated his rage in order to answer flatly,

“I do.”

Fillban offered him a weak smile, then glanced around the table.

“Well, gentlemen. This meeting is adjourned.”

Chairs scraped as they were pushed outwards, and several pairs of boots thumped against the wooden flooring. Baker’s sympathetic hand squeezed Roy’s shoulder before he, too, vacated the area. Soon the room was empty, save for he and the highest ranking official in the country, both sitting in a mutual silence, both knowing the following conversation that was about to take place.

“You let this happen?” asked Roy finally, his arms crossed tightly against his chest as he found the nerve to finally look at Grumman. “You allowed this to happen?”

“Roy,” began Grumman lowly. “I know you are distressed. But you cannot refute the reasoning.”

“I have a phone, dammit,” Roy spat back at him. “There’s a working telephone in my hut of an office. Did no one have the sense to call me?”

“My boy, you ought to know better than anyone that telephone lines cannot be trusted. What if the militants knew we were coming?”

“I can’t believe this decision was made like this,” Roy fumed, not bothering to answer. “Beneath a layer of dirt and over my head. ”

“You speak with your heart, and not your brain, Roy. There’s no crookedness going on here, there’s no corruption to be overthrown. This is an unfortunate, but necessary, thing to be done.”

Roy’s lip twitched as he inhaled sharply.

“It hasn’t even been a year,” his fist slammed onto the table, “Grumman. Not even one single damned year, and the trials just finished three weeks ago! She deserves a break, not some shitshow that could put her right back in danger!”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” Grumman whispered back harshly. “I am fully aware that both you and your captain have put your necks out far too many times, but this is, by every definition, a crisis. Imagine what would happen if the Drachma got into those Ishvalan heads. If the people in the West saw Ishvalans raging in with torches and bombs, right alongside the country’s oldest enemy, killing people in revenge of a war we’ve been trying to repent for...everything you and your captain have done in Ishval would be in ruins.” His voice suddenly became remarkably calm. “It would be for nothing.”

“She isn’t just my captain, Fuhrer Grumman,” he snapped back, not bothering to let his voice quiet. “She’s your granddaughter.”

Grumman stood and shook his head woefully, tucking in his chair and pulling his hands behind his back.

“I was never in her life. I don’t have the privilege of calling her that. She is a skilled soldier, and has a well earned place on this squadron.” Finishing himself of the conversation, he walked around the edge of the table to leave. “I have learned to relinquish my love, though it will always be there, for the betterment of my country. It is time you do the same.”

Taken aback, Roy said nothing as Grumman walked past him and out the door, leaving him alone to listen to the sound of the distant birds outside the french-lined windows.

He whispered a curse to himself as he sat there, hands folded together and eyes lasering into the wood. Finally, he stood and opened the door himself, stepping out to see his captain standing dutifully beside it

On her face, though, was worry.

“Is everything alright, Col--uh, General?”

She hadn’t made that slip in some time. Though, he thought, she probably had taken count of the faces in the room when she was inside before, and had probably taken count of their exit, except for his. It was apparent that she knew something was peculiar, and, he thought with a drop of his heart, his old rank was said many times in many terrible situations. It was only natural to utter it now.

“Walk with me, Hawkeye.”

Mustang longed for his old office, where he could lead them inside, shut the door, and speak with her openly. Where he could be familiar with her in a familiar space.

Though, their old office was occupied by someone else now, the desks filled by strangers and the carpet gaited by no one of his team. They had been there for years, he and his men. And it almost saddened him to know they would never go back.

It was by good fortune that Jean Havoc knew of a colonel who’d left for the week, off on holiday with his wife. It was in that office that Roy told Hawkeye of the council’s content.

Silence passed between them when the words left his lips, though not a silence in shock or uncomfortableness or anything unsavory. She was thinking, absorbing the information presented to her.

“Well,” she finally said slowly. “I’ll be sure to get those Ishvalans back to their people, sir. As soon as I can.”

To this, Roy sighed deeply and hung his head. This was typical of her, to never compromise the soldier she’d been committed to being.

“General,” she implored. He lifted his head to watch her eyes search his. “It will be alright. We both know Imam, he’s a good man and very personable. If he’s with us, I have no concern about turning the nomads away from the Drachma.”

“Hawkeye,” he said with exasperation. “I---” He stopped, unable to finish.

She stared at him attentively, leaning forward in her chair with all symptoms of her earlier tiredness entirely gone. It was quite obvious his stress was not translating for her. He swallowed and shook his head, letting air push out from his nose as witness to his still seething thoughts.

“How am I supposed to run Ishval without you?” he asked, a change of direction.

“Like any day, General. Falman is there right now without both of us, I think you can manage.”

“You’re an equal part of this campaign. Your deficit will be a tremendous loss.”

She tilted her head and gave him a knowing smirk.

“You’re being a little dramatic, General. You and Vato are more than capable without me breathing down your necks. Maybe you’ll even like the break.”

A hand lifted to his face, a thumb pushing into his lip, as his eyes turned away in a shake of his head. Her prediction was entirely untrue, the coiling of his insides testimony to that. The rolling uncertainty was speaking to him in a different tongue, ailing him for reasons he couldn’t be sure of -- until the ailing gave him sense of only one thing. A childish thing. There was a soft thud as his hand dropped back onto the desk and he looked at her with intensity.

“I don’t want you to go,” he admitted harshly.

The silence that followed was a little different than the one before, and he was sure the acuteness in her eyes was in response to his own.

Something about her demeanor changed. Her shoulders loosened so they sat heavy, like weights on her body. A melancholy teased the dull crows feet at her eyes. The person who sat across from him was no longer his adjutant, but his friend that he’d known for so very long.

“Well I don’t particularly want to go,” she admitted herself. “But knowing what we know now, that those people whom we have vowed to protect need our help and guidance...there’s no way I can’t go. Even if I had the option not to, I would still go. It’s because of us that they were displaced from their homes in the first place.”

The tempest at the walls of his stomach stilled, and was replaced instead with a drifting kind of acceptance. She was right, and a swirl of pride blended jaggedly with the negativity.

“Well who the hell is supposed to watch my back?” he asked. Who the hell is going to watch yours? he wanted to say.

She lifted a shoulder in a sort of shrug.

“Jean seems a little bored over here.”

Roy smiled for a brief moment before it fell.

The truth was undeniable; he couldn’t bear to be separated from her. Having her in a different part of the country would be to rip him in half with a pair of scorching tongs. For witnessing her near death had been his purest torture, and it had nearly destroyed him, and since then...well, he thought, he hadn’t quite recognized it until now, but he wanted her within his sight every moment of every day. It was a sick thing, and selfish. Beyond inappropriate within light to their professional dynamic. And, he reminded himself, the woman didn’t need him to stay safe. After all, he couldn’t keep her safe that day.

Yet still, letting her go made him nauseous.

His heart nearly broke the walls of his chest as it thudded at the sudden contact of her hand over his. His fears quelled as he looked at her with alarm. The gesture was almost intimate, and entirely uncommon for her. Her skin on his was almost painful in the way that it ached.

“When I come back,” she started softly. “You had better be in one piece.”

His thumb twitched, asking him permission to brush over her hand.

“The same goes for you,” he said instead, quieting the want in his fingers. She raised an eyebrow slightly, slipping her hand off his as she leaned back in her chair.

“When I come back, I had better be in one piece? Wouldn’t me coming back default to being in one piece?” she clarified with a tease. His gentle smile returned, his eyes softening, as the storm inside finally passed.

“Just come back.”

The rest of the day had been spent discussing tactics with one another, with the occasional pipe-in from Jean. With no thanks to the board and their lack of communication, they had little evidence to send with Hawkeye to show to the nomads. The necklace one of the midwives had crafted for Riza, a hand-woven line with a solar pendant at the crest, was all she had, tucked comfortably beneath her shirt.

Hours passed before Jean stood from his chair, stretched, and announced he had to leave to meet a girl for a date. With prodding, he only mentioned it was another officer and that she was entirely out of his league. Isn’t every woman out of your league? Roy had asked. Jean answered with a smack to the back of his head.

“Stay safe,” Jean said to Hawkeye as he pulled her in for a hug. “Good luck out there. We’ll see you soon.”

“Of course,” she smiled back at him. He waved goodbye.

Soon the sky turned violet, the sun pulling downwards to sleep. Roy glanced at his pocket watch; quarter til seven.

The walk to the armory was quiet.

“General, the train ride is long,” she had said after Jean had left. “You don’t need to stay.”

“I know that.”

Quicker than what seemed normal, the day was nearly dark by the time they arrived. The before colors of the sunfall had flitted away into twilight. It was chillier in Central, despite it being early August. Summer was fading; autumn teased the land like a ghost. Men were passing boxes to each other and piling them into a large covered cargo vehicle, the tarp a washed out green and the tires taller than a child. Roy spotted Boswick speaking with another man near the passenger door, and he eyed him warily before stopping his captain with a touch to her shoulder.

“I don’t know who any of these men are besides Imam,” he said when she turned towards him, “but remember that you’ve got authority here.”

She gave him a look.

“Oh?” she asked doubtfully.

“Yes,” he replied sharply, an attempt to convince her. “They’ve probably never even stepped foot in that desert. You know who the Ishvalans are, you know their plight. I know I don’t need to tell you not to let these guys walk all over you, because God knows that won’t be an issue.” She smiled. “But just remember that if you’re ever in doubt, listen to your gut. Not them.”

“Boswick is a major general, sir. And his number two is a major.”

“Doesn’t matter. Your gut is fuhrer on that truck.”

Her smile turned to a quiet laugh, and the corners of his own mouth pursed at the sound. He found that he coveted hearing it one more time.

“Captain Hawkeye,” called Boswick, seeming to finally see her. “You ready to roll out?”

She turned towards him and snapped to attention, her hand whipping up to her right eyebrow in salute.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Let’s get going.”

Boswick lifted himself into the cab of the vehicle as the other three men put the last of the boxes into the bed. The two soldiers helped Imam up onto the ledge, and the Ishvalan man parted the tarp to enter the back. Hawkeye’s hand dropped as she turned to face Roy.

“I’ll see you soon, General Mustang,” she said with a thin smile, gripping her briefcase tighter as she turned on her foot and set off towards the truck.

Without thinking, in no way planning was he was about to do, Roy grabbed her wrist and stopped her, allowing the spark between them to shock them both. She halted immediately and glanced back at him with wide eyes and an open mouth, her bangs fluttering about from the sharp turn of her head.

He quickly reached into his pocket with his free hand, wrapped his fingers around what was inside, and deposited the contents from his hand to hers. The hold he had on her wrist slipped downwards to her fingers so the materials were thick between their palms. He gave her hand a strong, formal shake.

“Come back,” he ordered sternly, quiet so only she could hear. Feeling the flex of her muscles, he knew she had a grip on what he’d given her and he slipped his hand out from its hold. She lifted her wrist, the darkening skies giving her little light to see, and unraveled her fingers to display what was in her palm.

Roy deliberately took several steps back so she couldn’t return them. By the time she finished digesting the gesture, her face was lined with something he couldn’t quite read. Perhaps it was his distance from her, or how the setting sun had bathed the land in a deep blue, but the look he could make out on her face made his throat grow tight.

He looked at her fiercely, any emotion buried under a layer of severity. To a stranger, he may have even appeared angry.

“Hawkeye, let’s go!” yelled a voice somewhere behind her. This seemed to pull her from her statuesque state, her face faltering at the shout, though she still hadn’t blinked away from her locked gaze with Roy. He swallowed and tilted his chin downwards.

Come back.

He watched the shadows of her face adjust as her nostrils flared and her mouth closed, and she gave him a single nod as she pocketed what he had given her. Then she turned on her heels, walked several steps to the truck, grabbed onto the handlebar to the right, and hoisted herself inside so she disappeared beyond the tarp.

#saying that this is late is an understatement #but thats alright because self care #I may not post much but I will update this story!#fullmetal alchemist #fullmetal alchemist fanfiction #royai #royai fanfiction #riza hawkeye #roy mustang #fma fanfiction #fma #fmab #my fanfiction #my fanfic

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mischiefandi · 6 years

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I’ll Be Watching You - Stiles Stilinski

A/N: I wrote this for @disbestiles song writing challenge. My song selection was Every Breath You Take by the Police and my character was ***. I placed the character’s name in the story, it’s up to you to find out who it is. Send me an ask when you figure it out :). Don’t forget the Easter eggs (only one in this fic if you don’t count the name) This is pretty dark and twisty but I had fun writing it and I know I said I was gonna post Mine part 2 but I was super inspired and I wanted to get to it as soon as possible! I hope you enjoy it! Thank you @avadakedabitch for proofreading! anddd thank you @itsbilescallmebiles for getting me hyped about writing this and for the HONEST feedback lol, ily. ALSO thank you @disbestiles for organising this challenge, I’m super glad to have participated, congrats again :) Feedback is always appreciated (good or bad)(but nice)(stay civil y'all)

Summary: A broken man wanders through Brooklyn with one destination in mind, where to?

Warnings: ANGST, stalking kind of, pretty dark and twisted, a teeny tiny bit of smut (vague and brief), I think cursing? and alcohol. Did I mention angst? Read at your own risk…

Word Count: 2,7 K (pretty short whoops)

Many people were already asleep, it was pretty late after all. The light sound of water leaking out of a pipe and landing on the wet and dirty street could barely be heard over the loud jazz music coming from the piano bar just a couple of houses down. The only people in the street were dancing strangers, happily swaying their hips to the sultry sax under a star-speckled dome and the lone man, walking slowly down the road, his hands in his pockets and his head covered with his dark hood. His foot made the water ripple as he stepped in a small puddle, but he didn’t seem fazed in the least by the sudden dampness in his shoe. His gait was calm but determined, he knew where he was going, the way to the destination in his mind clear as day. Every stop sign, every bump on the street, every sidewalk, every inch of the concrete platform across which he walked, he seemed to have memorized them all; it was obvious it wasn’t the first time he’d gone down this road.

As the hooded man walked past a black Audi, the loud sound of music seeped from inside the car and his cool and composed expression quickly turning to a shaken one. Shrugging it off, he kept going, looking back just once.

In through the bedroom window pour the pinkish rays of sun, drawing beautiful shadows on the wall opposite her. She’s sitting in front of him, her back lying against the endless amount of yellow and white pillows on her lumpy bed. Her pink lips curl into a smile as her favorite song starts to play and she laughs out loud when he starts singing along. The sunlight flashes against her rosy cheeks and her splendid blue eyes sparkle as they gaze at him, time seems to stop when she lowers her eyes and blushes. Her delicate fingers fiddle with the bed covers and he holds out his hand, wanting physical contact between them, she shakes her head and dissolves into giggles when he fakes a pout. As she starts to speak with the softest voice he’s ever heard, he thinks to himself; “This is happiness.”

Eventually, the man turned a corner but then slowed down when he saw someone up ahead, obviously, he wanted to be alone, to be left in his misery and anger. It was simmering in his head and in the darkest and deepest part of him, anticipating the moment when it could finally resurface and blow up. He heard a train passing above him on the elevated railway tracks but didn’t bother looking up, he just stopped walking. His fingers curled around a small object in his back pocket and he took out a bright green lighter. Out of his other pocket came a pack and he sniffed lightly as he drew out one thin cigarette, placing it carefully between his lips and bringing the lighter up to it. Click. Inhaling deeply, smoke filled his lungs and he coughed slightly, still not quite fully back into his previous habits. He exhaled and stared ahead, watching a few cars pass by, occasionally honking at him for standing in the middle of the street. He didn’t even glance at the drivers, instead opting for giving them an exasperated sigh as if they were the ones in the wrong. As he resumed his footsteps, a low rumble coming from above made him lift his head up and he immediately felt a single drop of water land on his forehead. Bringing up a finger to his head in order to wipe it off, the man felt another and again the sky grumbled loudly. He shrugged slightly and kept walking, watching thin lines of water start falling from the stars and land on the ground beneath him.

Clouds cover the sky. They’re sitting on the humid grass in Central Park, there aren’t many people there. Tiny spots of blue occasionally peak through the thick duvet above them and the birds aren’t singing, all hidden away in the trees, confused by the lack of sunlight. The autumn wind blows through her hair and she laughs heartedly when orange and brown leaves get tangled in her blonde mane. He desperately tries to get one particularly hard-to-get leaf out of her smooth streaks and she makes fun of his lack of skill, throwing her head back and exclaiming. He grins and pushes her back, quickly covering her body with his and he nuzzles his nose in her neck, breathing in the sweet scent he’s come to crave. Making his slightly chapped lips dance across her pearly white skin, he grips her waist with his right hand and caresses her gorgeous face with the other. She smiles at him and he deeps in to kiss her when suddenly he feels droplets of water on the back of his neck; it’s started to rain. She makes a joke which makes him smirk at her and ignoring the rain that slowly starts to accelerate its descent, he passionately kisses her, immediately making her moan as she feels the tiniest prickles from his stubble on her chin and cheeks. They melt together in the pouring rain, forgetting the world that surrounds them.

“Zach, careful!” exclaimed a woman in the passenger seat of the car that swivelled just at the right moment, avoiding a crash with the man ignoring yet another honk. He moved forward, digging his hands in his pockets and pursing his lips tighter so the cigarette between them didn’t budge. He inhaled and exhaled a few times, slowly falling back into his addiction all over again, letting the smoke surround and embrace him in a way he hadn’t been for a long time, too long. Entering a new street, a busier one, where cabs and loud cars and people talking about meaningless things ruled, he remembered how much he despised them, how much he despised them all. His hatred for this hypocritical society, his hatred for how this awful and cruel world they live in corrupts every beautiful thing in the palm of his hand, his hatred for injustice and people with no morals, he bathed in it, he fed off of this anger and pain. That was what he was reminded of as he watched the disgusting people of Brooklyn he used to love.

Yellow and blue fireworks erupted in the night sky and it startled him as he walked onto the sidewalk, almost making him trip over a homeless woman sitting up against the wall of a shop and he groaned as she weakly lifted a little paper cup in his direction. He shook his head angrily and she backed away a little, a nervous and retreated expression on her dirty and wrinkled face. Ignoring her quiet moans and whimpers, he pushed past the crowd of turtle-resembling pedestrians and kept going. He didn’t feel bad for her, it was her fault. In this world, the world he’d come to detest with every fiber of his being, good and patient people were never rewarded, they were abandoned, left to their own resources. If she really wanted to have a shot at a life, she was going to have to grow a pair, that was the only thing that ever worked; hurting others and breaking promises. Almost completely drenched, the young man slipped under someone else’s umbrella and smirked. Walking at the same pace as his companion, he dragged his feet against the cold and wet concrete beneath him, eventually pulling out his hand and holding the last of his cigarette between his long and calloused fingers. He stopped and abandoned his umbrella neighbor in order to press the butt of his guilty pleasure against the front wall of a 7-Eleven, putting out tiny embers. He glanced at the shop itself and gulped down the emotion that threatened to rise.

Small clocks of various shapes and colours hanging on the white wall above the cashier’s desk all strike 1 when the pair enters the shop hand-in-hand. She’s wearing a knee-length red dress and white slippers, he’s wearing a disheveled tuxedo with an untied bow hanging around his neck. They’re both snickering about something and she leads him to the back of the shop where she picks out a bottle of vodka and starts giggling furiously. He trips over his own foot and they erupt in a roar of laughter, disrupting the cashier’s once peaceful sleep. As he struggles to get up, she giggles, walks up to him and wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him in close in order to drunkingly kiss him, letting the bottle of alcohol slip from between her fingers and land on the floor with a crash. The cashier jumps from his seat and starts yelling at them for making a mess in his shop but neither of them notice as she slips her tongue in her lover’s mouth and moans against his lips, making his heart swell and thump in the confines of his chest. When she pulls back to breathe and steady herself, she notices the angry owner of the 7-Eleven and she stares at him with wide eyes before grabbing her boyfriend’s hand and running towards the exit. The short and bald man runs after them but the young man in a tuxedo whirls around and notices an obscene pile of Kit-Kats on his right. Grabbing a fistful of the candy, he throws it in the owner’s direction and the blonde holding his hand shrieks and dissolves in a fit of giggles before pulling him out of the shop.

He snapped out of his daze and shook his head lightly before resuming his walk in the direction of an alley. Leaving the large and busy avenue through which he had just been, he took a left and immediately was greeted by tranquil silence and emptiness. He sighed loudly and straightened his back before burying his hands back into his pockets and looking up, his pace uninterrupted. The stars were gorgeous that night, he didn’t know whether it was his melancholic state that made the sky feel so attractive or if it really was as breath-taking as it seemed but he wanted to be up there, he wanted to drown in the dark blue ocean that was the night sky of New York, he wanted to forget all of the pain, anger and regret flowing through his veins. He wanted to forget her. It was his only desire really, to be able to erase her from his memories, from his past, but it was impossible. The sheer acknowledgement of that fact made his heart quake and legs tremble. But he ignored it, he had to. Facing his emotions, facing the brutal reality that had haunted him for the past six months was too much, and thinking about it only made it worse; it felt like dying. In the corner of the alley, standing in the shadows was a woman dressed in a leopard print dress that only went down to her mid-thigh and knee-high black leather boots. The woman wearing the most vulgar makeup he had ever seen approached him and catcalled which riled him up a little. He stared dead on and refused to meet the eyes of the prostitute calling out for him, focusing on the end of the dark pathway.

Lying on top of her, he feels her writhing beneath him, digging her nails in his lower back and whispering sweet nothings in his ear, occasionally groaning when he reaches a certain pace. He places wet kisses along her collarbone and nibbles on her earlobe as she reaches her high, holding her close against his sweaty body and feeling her heart beat a hundred miles an hour against his. He slows down and she breathes against his chest, clinging to him in order to keep from spiraling; he presses his head against hers and smiles at her.

Covering her sleeping body with the bed sheets, he slips on a pair of boxers and walks into the kitchen, the only source of light coming from the moon in the summer night sky. It’s gorgeous out, a slight cool breeze seeps in through the cracked open window and he breathes in and out deeply before sitting himself down and opening up the laptop on the kitchen table. Clicking on the email button and getting ready to type a message for his father, he realizes the user isn’t him and he quickly tries to change accounts. The words “Yes baby” make him pause and he looks down at the email, it’s hers. He glances back at the ajar bedroom door and furrows his brow before clicking on the email and reading it. His breath stops when he reads the words that make his entire world crash before him. No words can escape his mouth when he shuts the laptop and tries to make sense of what he’s just seen. She couldn’t have, right?

His fast pace went to a halt when he reached number 35, the red-bricked building standing tall and proud on the corner of the empty street. Above him, a wide window with its yellowish curtains drawn. He looked up at it and noticed that the lights were still on, she was awake. In front of his drenched and tired figure stood a beautiful red car and he laughed spitefully, taking in the hurtful information. He nodded and pursed his lips together then suddenly sent his fist flying onto the cold and wet metal, immediately letting out a choked sob and falling to the ground, ignoring the feeling of dirty rainwater coating his legs.

Angry tears streamed down his face as he stared down at the ground, nursing his injured hand with the other and forcing himself to breathe in and out. He leant his back against the car and stopped to think. She was in there, with the man she had used to break him. She was in there right now, probably eating Chinese food with her new lover, watching her favorite show with him, cracking jokes and looking like a modern-day Aphrodite. She was in there, living the life she was supposed to be living with him. She had taken a hammer and smashed his heart to pieces, she had destroyed him and his humanity, she had changed him forever and she was in there, pretending that he had never meant anything to her, pretending that it didn’t matter. She was a monster, she was the most beautiful, most manipulative, sweet and cruel angel he had ever had the misfortune of meeting, she was the worst thing that had ever happened to him, but still his heart ached for her. He had loved her, with every cell in his body, with every speck of himself, he had loved her. He still did.

Picking himself off the slippery street, he looked up at the window again and saw the silhouette of the girl who constantly haunted his dreams. As far as he could tell, she was getting ready for bed. He could barely make out the long mane cascading down her shoulders and it made his lips quiver.

Why was he out here and not in there with her? And what kind of cruel joke was this? Why was the universe only giving him a glimpse of her? It wasn’t enough, she was too far, he neede-Oh wait. Behind her, there was another figure, it was a man, that much was clear. The broken man standing on the curb saw him take off her shirt. He couldn’t.

He wouldn’t.

He had.

Desperation and sadness soon succumbed to sheer anger and he looked away, fury burning in his amber-colored eyes. As his gaze went from the window to the car, malice poked at his insides and he smirked cruelly. He wasn’t a part of her life anymore, she had made sure of that and he missed it, being present in her thoughts, in her heart, he wanted to know that she would be reminded of him every day. And so forgetting himself and everything he had once been, destroying the brilliant, kind and compassionate man his friends and family had known once and for all, he took out his keys and brought them up to the shiny red car. Scraping away every last inch of dignity he had left, he breathed out and looked at his masterpiece. She would remember him for sure now, and she would never forget him.

I’LL BE WATCHING YOU

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schraubd · 6 years

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David's Personal Top Ten Video Games

This is something I've been wanting to do for a long time. It is a personal list, reflecting the games that have stuck with me the most over the years. I'm not enough of a gamer to claim it is anything comprehensive, and it has a strong bias to the sorts of genres that I like. Nonetheless, I'd stack these games against any that have been made in my lifetime. Anyway, without further adieu ....

Honorable Mentions:

Portal 2: How can a game with virtually no “dialogue” (if that means conversations between two characters) have some of the best spoken lines in all video game history? I have both the original and a capella versions of the Turret Opera on my iTunes (yes, I have “Still Alive” as well).

Railroad Tycoon II: A brilliant simulator that makes you actually feel like a turn-of-the-century robber baron (by far, the game is most fun to play when set in the late 19th century). If every man goes through his “trains!” phase, this was mine. As in real life, I am not good at playing the stock market.

Horizon: Zero Dawn: Robot dinosaurs! Incredibly, Horizon: Zero Dawn takes a core concept that sounds like word association from an over-caffeinated twelve-year boy and makes an entirely serious game about it—and it works. It works so well, in fact, that I loved it despite the fact that the plot and entire world-building background centers around my single greatest phobia (no, not that—being alive for the extinction of humanity).

10. Sid Meier’s Gettysburg: I find it odd that very few games have sought to replicate Gettysburg’s spin on an RTS—focusing combat around regiments rather than individual units and prioritizing morale over raw numbers. But the thing I like best about Gettysburg—and sadly it’s mostly unique too—is in how it concentrates on controlling territory (and terrain). Many RTS games, for me, might as well have a blank screen over 80% of the map between my base and my opponent’s base. You build up your force, and then try to swarm your opponent before he or she swarms you. But in Gettysburg, the goal of missions is not “wipe out your opposition”. It’s to capture and hold a ridge, or dig in and hold an exposed farmhouse.

My only critiques are that I want this game to be bigger. I want it to encompass dozens of map spanning the entirety of the Civil War. I want to be able memorize even more obscure Union and Confederate generals and wonder if they really were “mediocre” or if that was just a game balance decision. The random battle generator is okay, but this game screams for user-created expansions which I’ve never been able to find.

9. Crimson Skies: A pulpy fun flight simulator taking place in an alternate history 1930s where America has fractured and Zeppelin travel rules the day. The game doesn’t hesitate to lean into its concept (phrases like “broad” and “floozy” abound), and it does a great job world-building in a relatively short period of time. Somehow, I could meet an enemy “ace” for the first time in the middle of a mission and yet still feel like we had a history of epic dogfights together of which this was only the latest. Meanwhile, each of the locations the game takes you to (Hawaii, the Pacific Northwest, Hollywood, the Rocky Mountains, and New York City) are a blast and a half.

A sequel, High Road to Revenge, was released on Xbox and leaned a little too hard into the arcade-y elements (power-ups, automatic evasive maneuvers with the press of a button, and so on). But the original PC game was just right—planes flew exactly like how someone who knows nothing about planes thinks planes fly, which is just perfect. You felt like an ace pilot because of your skill (even though behind the hood the game is really holding your hand). Piloting a gyrocopter through half-built New York City skyscrapers, or a prototype single-engine through the Hollywood "O", is great. Doing it to evade local security, then doing a loop and turning both guns on them -- well, that's the cat's meow.

8. Mass Effect (Trilogy and Andromeda): As far as I’m concerned, the definitive space opera (even muscling out Halo). Fabulous voice acting (listening to Martin Sheen play evil Jed Bartlett is one of the great joys of my life) and memorable plot lines pair with a morality system that at least inches away from “basically decent person or utter asshole.” The universe feels genuinely alive, like there’s an ecosystem and civilization that you’re very much apart, but also moves in your absence.

I can’t really separate out the core trilogy games from one another (each sequel seemed to simultaneously step slightly forward and back), which is not I think an uncommon position. What may be more uncommon is that I think Andromeda stands right in there with the core series. Yes, it was disappointing that it took us to a brand new galaxy and only gave us two new species (while eliminating many of the more backgrounded Milky Way aliens). But I was much more disappointed that there will be no DLC or sequels to continue the story and tie up loose ends.

7. N and N++: There can’t be any serious controversy that N is the greatest Flash game ever made. While Flash demands simplicity, N is not so much simple as it is elegant. It is the perfect balance of speed and control, thoughtfulness and twitch-trigger reflexes, serene relaxation and butt-clenching tension. Once you master the floaty physics and the unique enemy styles, you will truly feel like a ninja—stripped to its core essence and deprived of all the usual but unnecessary bells and whistles. A virtually unlimited supply of levels guarantees you endless gameplay.

And so it is unsurprising that N was one of the rare flash games that made a successful jump to a full true game (in the form of N++), one that has a strong claim on being the greatest platformer ever made. The developers were wise not to disturb the basic formula: run, jump, and slide around a level, dodge obstacles and traps that will kill you instantly, reach the exit. Repeat ad infinitum. But N++ adds just a splash of additional flavors and spices into the mix. A perfect trip-trance soundtrack that sets the mood perfectly (and may single-handedly stave off keyboard-smashing frustration). A few new enemy types that deepen the game without ruining its austere grace. And perhaps most importantly, it adds a bunch of extra, semi-secret challenges (which can be used to unlock still more levels) waiting for the very best-of-best players.

Of all the games on this list, I might be in absolute terms “best” at N++ (there are a non-trivial number of levels in the game where I have a top 100 or even top 10 score on the global leaderboards). And yet there is not the slightest chance that I will ever perfect this game, or even come close to it. Nor is there any chance I will become permanently sick of it. A simple concept, executed brilliantly. The perfect N++ level is also the perfect description of the game.

6. Final Fantasy IX: The question was never whether a Final Fantasy game would make this list, only which one. I’ve long had a soft-spot for FFIX, which I feel is often overlooked inside the series (in part because even on release it seemed players were already looking ahead to the Playstation 2). Yet it’s hard to find fault in Final Fantasy IX as an emblem of a straight-forward JRPG. It has a moving story, fun gameplay, beautiful music, loads of quests to do and places to explore, a fabulous supporting cast (Vivi might be my favorite Final Fantasy character ever written), and a lead character you don’t want to punch (*cough* Final Fantasy X).

Final Fantasy IX is often described as “nostalgic”, and despite the fact that it was only the second game in the series I had ever played, I got that feeling instantly. Try listening to the soundtrack for “Frontier Village Dali” without feeling a little melancholic. You don’t even have to have played. But I recommend that you do.

For the record, my ranking of Final Fantasy games that I’ve played goes: IX, VII, XII, XV, X, XIII.

5. Assassin’s Creed: Brotherhood: One difficulty in judging games within a series is how to compare an earlier game which still had some rough edges but represented a quantum leap forward versus a later game which didn’t do anything super-novel but tweaked the formula to perfection. That, in a nutshell, is the difference between Assassin’s Creed II and Assassin’s Creed: Brotherhood. Now, for me, this is an easy call for idiosyncratic reasons—I played AC:B before AC II, and so I experienced the former as both the perfected model and the quantum leap forward as compared to the original game. But I respect that for those who played the series in order, this is a harder call.

What should be easy for anyone is to agree that together, Assassin’s Creed II and Assassin’s Creed: Brotherhood represented the AC series reaching its full potential. Ezio continues to be the best protagonist the series has seen to date. Renaissance Italy likewise is the ideal setting for both AC’s vertical and horizontal platforming elements and its shadowy-conspiracy/secret-history plotline. As a franchise, Assassin’s Creed really launched the parkour/open-world exploration genre, and Brotherhood was the first game where every single element of what that genre could be came together. Other more recent games have been tons of fun (Black Flag and Syndicate are I think highlights), but these two games are the reason this series is so iconic.

4. Might and Magic VI: The same problem posed by AC2 versus Brotherhood emerges with Might and Magic VI and VII—except here, I did play them in order. Like the previous entry, I do think that VII ultimately improves upon the formula set out in Might and Magic VI. It’s more versatile, has more replay value, a touch more balanced (and that’s not getting into ArcoMage) … all in all, probably a better technical game.

But Might and Magic VI is for me iconic—it may well be the first RPG I’ve ever truly loved (and given the way this list is stacked in that direction, that’s saying a lot). Virtually all the things that characterize what I love in games today, it had in at least skeletal form. Open world exploration? Check: It was the first game where I felt like I was a true pathfinder—meticulously crawling over every corner of the map to find each obscure bandit’s cave and goblin fortress. To this day I still have the lay of the land in Enroth basically memorized. Overly detailed worldbuilding text to read? Absolutely: my obsessive-streak came out in reading every single artifact description, conversational option, and quest backgrounder (it is canon that Enroth, and the entire planet it resides upon, was blown up in a magical explosion—a fact I’m still resentful towards 3DO for long after it disappeared into bankruptcy). Slight genre-bending? The splash of Sci-Fi onto the fantasy setting was delightful to discover for someone who had never played any of the prior entries in the series. And some of the music—well, the White Cap theme is a thing of beauty, and on my computer “Adagio in G Minor for Strings and Organ” is still listed as “Church Dungeon Music.”

3. Heroes of Might and Magic III: If comparing earlier, more revolutionary games against newer more polished ones presents a problem in the Assassin’s Creed and Might and Magic series, it presents no trouble at all in Heroes of Might & Magic. That’s because the third installation in the series both represented a huge jump forward from what came before and is unquestionably the best entry in the overall sequence.

Sure, some of the expansions are a bit goofy, but they still work—sharpshooters and enchanters are massively overpowered, but they’re generally used in missions that would otherwise be impossible. But the main campaign is fabulous—a surprisingly intricate and interwoven plot that bridges Might and Magic VI and VII compliments outstanding strategy gameplay. And that doesn’t even get into the acre of standalone maps provided, plus countless more available on the web thanks to a map editor so intuitive, even I can use it (I’m terrible with map editors).

As a result of all of this, Heroes III is maybe the only game on this list that can compete with N++ regarding infinite replayability. This is fortunate, because—given the fact that Heroes III was a full-budget release and was not supposed to be “simple”—it ages incredibly well. Even the graphics hold up (no need for that remastered remake—which doesn’t even include the expansions!).

2. Witcher III: As you may have noticed, this list has a strong bias towards RPGs. My preference is toward “Western” RPGs (which have a go-anywhere/do-anything exploration mentality) compared to “Japanese” RPGs (which are more linear and story-driven), but Witcher III does an incredible job of synthesizing the best of both. It has a huge open world to explore, one that feels alive and dynamic—but there is also an incredibly rich story filled with deep, well-written characters (of which Geralt—the player character—is but one).

Gameplay-wise, Witcher III really hits the perfect balance. I simultaneously felt like the biggest bad-ass in the room, but also like a single slip in concentration or bit of overconfidence and my corpse would unceremoniously end up at the bottom of whatever cave I was in. But Witcher III particularly stands out in how it subverts certain common RPG tropes. You are a hero, but you’re not particularly well-liked. You’re a powerful warrior, but you’re still ultimately treated as a pawn in larger political machinations. Your interventions do not always save the day, and sometimes don’t even make things better. If a mission starts with a villager worrying that their beloved has gone missing, nine times out of ten that person has been devoured by a monster well before you ever get there. While many games claim to place the hero in difficult moral dilemmas, Witcher III is a rare case of following through (some games might give you the choice to let a trio of witches eat a group of kids whom you recently played hide-and-seek with, but few make it so that might actually be the more moral of the options in front of you). There’s even a quest where you help a knight rescue a lady in distress from a curse, then lecture him that he’s not entitled to her romantic attention as a reward (talk about a timely intervention in the video game genre!). Over and over again, the game reinforces the message that being really powerful and doing “the right thing” isn’t enough to fix a fundamentally broken system.

Most impressive is the emotional impact that Witcher III dishes out. Sometimes this is a result of rich character development that pays off over the course of the entire game (as in “The Last Wish” quest). But sometimes it shows up in even relatively minor sidequests—the epilogue of the “Black Pearl” quest was one of the more brutal emotional gut-punches I’ve experienced in a video game. Ultimately, this was a game where one always felt like each character was a person—they were imperfect, they had their own interests, hopes, dreams, strengths and foibles, and while you were a little better with a sword and gifted with some preternatural abilities, you were still only one player in a much bigger narrative. As a result, Witcher III might well be, in my estimation, the perfect RPG.

Oh, and Gwent is ludicrously addictive. Let’s not forget that.

1. TIE Fighter: I don’t think this list has a particularly “modern” bias. Still, there’s something impressive about the number one game on this list also being the oldest by some measure. TIE Fighter originally came out in 1994, and the definitive Collector’s Edition was released in 1995. It is, to this day, one of the best games ever made. And that’s not a retrospective assessment. Star Wars: Tie Fighter holds up even played right now.

For starters, it is one of the few elements of the Star Wars universe to get the Empire right. I’m not saying that the Empire is the real protagonist of the series. I am saying that they wouldn’t view themselves as evil—as much as naming spacecraft “Executor” and “Death Star” might suggest otherwise. TIE Fighter is quite self-assured in presenting you as being a force for law and order in the galaxy, battling not just seditious rebels but pirates, smugglers, and other anarchic forces that threaten to tear civilized life apart.

Let’s start with something often overlooked in TIE Fighter: the music. It’s probably the only context that the phrase “kick-ass MIDI soundtrack” makes sense. But that’s not even the half of it. The iMuse system dynamically and seamlessly arranges the musical cues to reflect what’s going on around you in the mission—you can literally follow important mission updates (e.g., a wingman being shot down, or reinforcements arriving) simply by the way the melody shifts. I’m not sure I’ve ever encountered anything quite like it since. To this day, the number that accompanies an incoming enemy capital ship fills me with exhilarated dread.

Gameplay-wise, TIE Fighter is almost shockingly rich. The core mission requirements are challenging, but by no means out of reach. But embedded in each level are a series of secondary and secret bonus objectives. These unlock a parallel plot of the Emperor’s Secret Order—but always present a brutal risk/reward calculus. That’s not unrelated to the fact that you’re often flying, well, TIE fighters (not noted for their durability)—but the challenge extends well beyond physical peril. TIE Fighter actually gives you an “invincibility” option if you want it, and yet even with it on some of the later missions and bonus objectives will strain every piloting skill you’ve ever developed.

Most importantly, the secret objectives usually are more involved than “blow up everything in sight.” They reward initiative and exploration. Maybe your primary mission objective is to destroy a rebel space station. But just before it goes down, you spot an escape shuttle fleeing the station. Take it out? Maybe—but maybe the occupants are VIPs best taken alive. So you switch to ion cannons and disable it for capture. Yet that extra time you just spent has given the rebels enough breathing room to summon reinforcements—now an enemy cruiser is bearing down on you. Take out its missile launchers and clear path for bombers while praying that your own Star Destroyer will arrive soon to back you up. All on the fly. All while dogfighting starfighters, dodging mines, giving your wingmen orders … it’s insanely, beautifully chaotic.

Did I mention this is all happening in 1995? 90% of games released today don’t have that kind of depth or spontaneity. In terms of playability, replayability, and just plain fun, TIE Fighter stands alone, and unchallenged.

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