#this is part of a series btw | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cyberels · 1 month

Text

later, loser.ᐟ ᯓ★

˗ˋˏ 𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐒 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 ˎˊ-

☆ ellie discovers the quickest way to get a girl underneath her

daily click! palestine masterpost

☆: sometimes i start writing without a plot in mind to get myself out of a funk and and and this is what i came up w lol so sorry if it’s doodoo ass

☆ warnings -> mention of blood, injuries, all that good shit that comes with skateboarding, probably really inaccurate skating talk, drugs, tbh probably really bad writing but bare with me here, no concept of stranger danger from reader when she sees a hot girl (ellie) for plot reasons lol

☆ skaterboarder!ellie yayyy she wears glasses because i said so &&&&& also ellie works at a vinyl shop and reader works at a bakery :)

☆ ☆ ellies playlist! ☆ ☆

u don’t have to listen but i made it to listen while i write and i thought it’d be fun to add

my masterlist

ellie was no stranger to making mistakes, she’s human, it happens… however, she usually doesn’t make this many stupid choices within the span of one single hour.

today, ellie was running late.

mistake number one.

she practically flew out of the door and hopped on her board, mumbling a half assed apology to her neighbor who she accidentally shoulder checked on her way out when she put on her headphones.

she’s probably going way too fast, but she’s been skateboarding for years, she can handle it. she still has the penny boards that she started skating on when she was 12 hanging up in her living room, right beside some of her other boards she’s had since then that she’s either destroyed or replaced. she weaved in and out of the people walking practically effortlessly, not caring if she was pissing anyone off, they’d live. she’d never have to see them again, anyways.

she opened her phone to turn on her music.

you, on the other hand, were taking your time; you had a good while until you had to be at work. you’ve created a habit of looking for ladybugs in the bushes outside your apartment complex after you noticed that the plant is home to many of the little insects. usually you just glance at the plant as you pass by, but today, you fully stopped to look.

unfortunately, you were unaware of ellie being just feet away from you.

guess you’re no stranger to mistakes, either.

granted, ellie would have had enough time to stop… if she was paying attention.

which she was not.

mistake number two.

you hear a string of curse words behind you. you barely manage to turn around before you’re pushed into the bushes by a girl who promptly lands on top of you. her skateboard rolled away pathetically. it’s almost like it was embarrassed, too.

if there had been any ladybugs, they were definitely squashed now.

you open your eyes slowly to find the other girl hovering just above you. her necklace dangles temptingly close to your lips as she pushes herself up. she's still on top of you, her face just inches away from yours. she blinks a few times, slowly taking in the situation. she seems lost in thought, the wheels in her head turning painstakingly slowly as she tries to comprehend what's happening and her part in it.

she’s taking way too long to get off of you, though, which only serves to frustrate you more.

“hellooo? can you get up?” you mumble through gritted teeth to the girl above you, turning your head to the side to avoid her gaze.

in hindsight, you probably should’ve asked if she was okay, but right now all you wanted to do was get up and pretend like this never happened.

you don’t even want to know how many people saw you fall.

“oh— oh fuck.” ellie stuttered, taking one last glance at you before she moved herself onto the sidewalk, not finding the strength to stand up fully just yet.

she grabbed her headphones that had been flung off in the impact. small scrapes lined the side of them, but at least they probably still worked. she put them around her neck, letting her head fall back in her hands. she took a deep breath, trying to get a grip on her emotions and the situation.

you sigh as you get up, and ellie can tell you’re mad based solely on how the exhale of air sounded.

“uh… you good?” you ask after an uncomfortable pause, eyeing the other girl. it was obvious you didn’t really care, but at least you tried to be polite.

you were still taking your time collecting yourself, brushing leaves out of your hair and wiping blood from your hands onto your jeans (thank god you wore black jeans today). you were definitely going to be sore tomorrow, but other than your scraped up hands, you were fine.

just really pissed off.

ellie looked up at you and then immediately looked back down, running her hands over her face once more. “yeah, i’m… good.”

you roll your eyes as you hold your hand (the one with the least amount of scrapes) out towards ellie, offering to pull her up. you can't help but feel pity as she sits on the sidewalk. not in a sympathizing way, but more of a "damn, this girl looks pathetic" way. she hesitates for a second, but then grabs your hand and smiles weakly.

“thanks.”

as much as you know that this situation partially is your fault, you’re still annoyed. you had spent so long getting ready today just to have some idiot push you into dirt.

when you speak again, your words come out harsher than you intended… not that you minded. “yeah. watch where you’re fucking going next time.”

ouch.

okay, maybe (keyword: maybe) ellie had caused the worst part of this, but she wasn’t going to sit here and take you blatantly being rude when you’re just as much to blame as she is. “maybe if you didn’t think you owned the sidewalk, i wouldn't have ran into you.”

you reach down beside you and grab her, now shattered, phone and her (also shattered) glasses. you raise your eyebrows as you look over the broken screen.

“maybe if you were paying attention.” you pause, wiggling the phone in front of her face. “you would’ve realized i stopped walking.”

she snatched her things back, she didn’t have a comeback for that.

her phone was fucked… usable, but the screen was shattered so badly that if she scrolled on it she’d probably slice open her thumb. small price to pay, she figures.

it’s not like she’s gonna buy a new one… but she would have to cough up the money for new glasses, though. damn it.

“why the hell did you stop walking anyways?”

you hesitate, looking back at the bush sheepishly, vaguely gesturing towards it as you speak again. “i— not that it’s any of your business— i wanted to see if there were any ladybugs on the leaves.”

“…oh.”

well now ellie just feels like a dickhead, because that’s actually really cute. that was not the answer she was expecting.

you continue looking away and ellie sighs, attempting to push past you to grab her skateboard.

mistake number three.

the second she takes a step, she falls into you again, her ankle completely giving out underneath her. you catch her, your arms wrapping around her hips as you hold her up.

ellie has never wanted to die more than she did at this moment.

her face was literally sandwiched in between your chest. she pushed herself back, hopping slightly.

what the fuck just happened?

“oh my fucking god. i’m so sorry. i– oh fuck, this is so awkward.”

yeah, awkward was one word for it. you stare at her blankly for a moment before you kick her skateboard towards her.

you could feel her touch lingering on your body like she was still there. if your hands were just a little lower you would’ve…

“its– it’s fine. dude, are you sure you’re alright?”

you sound more like you care this time, at least.

not that you do care, or anything,

just trying to make sure she wasn’t seriously hurt.

that’s all.

“i’m fine.” it was an obvious lie, but she was preoccupied with thinking about how she was going to skate to and from work if she could barely walk… she’d have to deal with it, she decided. there wasn’t any other option for her right now, she was already late.. “i’ll be fine.”

“very convincing.” you reply, looking her up and down. “you’re not seriously about to get on that thing again, are you?”

“not that it’s any of your business, but i don’t have any other choice, i’m gonna be late to work and this is all i have to get me there.”

you narrow your eyes at her.

no way this girl was reckless and stupid.

“what? you can’t be serious… you’re still going to work? are you an idiot?”

ellie doesn't answer right away, glancing down at her skateboard for a bit. you’re right, she should call out, but she hated the prospect of missing a day of work. money had been tight, even one missed day would be hell for her and her bank account.

“you gonna give me the money i’d lose if i called out?”

you opened your mouth to reply, but she was already flying past you, very clearly having a hard time but also very clearly not caring.

“don’t stop in the middle of the sidewalk next time, dumbass!” she yelled, leaving you standing in the same spot just watching her leave.

…and kinda wishing she’d come back.

just so you could get the last word.

when you walk into work, it’s unfortunately obvious that you’re pissed off, if the way your manager immediately asks what happened as soon as you clocked in was anything to go by.

you’re thankful for the excuse to rant, though.

“god, abby, where do i even start? i literally just walked out of my apartment and some girl on a skateboard slammed into me and we both went flying into a stupid plant. got a face full of bush and not even the good kind.”

“jesus,” abby laughed, picking a leaf out of your hair. “was she hot?”

“was she hot? is that seriously all you’re gonna say?”

“...well?”

“i hate you so much… but yeah, she was.” you admit, defeat obvious in your tone. you’re well aware that this would’ve been a lot easier for you if you didn’t find the dumb skater attractive. you’d been close enough to her face to see every detail… her freckles, her eyes, her lips— damn it. you couldn’t get her out of your head.

this felt like a sick joke.

abby clapped her hands together. “this isn’t a completely bad thing! did you get her number?”

“no, abby, i didn’t get her number. i was too busy trying to get her away from me because she was stupid and annoying.”

“you’re no fun, could’ve got yourself a skater girl.” she frowned. “are you okay though?”

“you should’ve led with that question, you know?” you huff, looking at the scrapes on your palms again. “i’m fine.”

“yeah, yeah. i should’ve.” abby tosses a pastry towards you. “here, for your troubles, on the house. go sit down in the break room for a little bit, you look like a mess.”

“gonna ignore the last part. thanks, abs.”

──── ✧《✿》✧ ────

“jesus fucking christ.” ellie mumbled to herself, hopping off her board before she opened the door to the small vinyl store she worked at.

“late again, williams— oh. oh wow. you look like shit.” austin, the owner of the shop spoke, nudging ellie as she walked by. he was wearing a stupid smirk on his face which made ellie more aggravated.

asshole.

“real nice.” ellie grumbled, putting up her skateboard and backpack. “sorry for being late, won’t happen again, i just— some people are so stupid, you know?”

“by ‘some people’ do you mean you?” he laughed, spinning on his chair. he mocked the way ellie spoke, doing a high pitched voice that sounded nothing like her.

god, he was a 30 year old man-child, but he pays her… so… whatever. she’ll deal.

“ha-ha. good one.”

“ya gonna tell me what happened or are ya gonna leave me guessin’?”

“what happened is people don’t know how to walk anymore.” she scoffed, taking stock of the money she had to count before putting it in the drawer. “so fucking stupid.”

“by the looks of it you don’t know how to walk anymore, either. you gonna be able to work? i’m not payin’ ya to sit around, so if i need to call someone else in…”

she glared at him, trying to see if he’d explode if she stared hard enough.

he was right though, unfortunately, ellie was walking like she had just learned how to. it wasn’t the worst injury she’s ever got from skateboarding, but it was definitely inconvenient.

“yeah, i’ll be fine.” ellie snapped, shifting her weight to her good foot to avoid making her injury any worse. “jesus christ, it’s a twisted ankle. i’m not missing a limb.”

“but—“

“drop it.”

he put his hands up in mock surrender, the smirk still on his face. “oooookay, okay. whatever you say williams. you were still late though, let’s go back to talkin’ about that. what’s the count at now? is this the fifth or sixth time this month?”

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry. shit’s hard when you don’t have a car.” ellie sighed, punching in the numbers on her register. “i’ll do better. today was not my fault, though.”

“am i gonna have to be more strict with you? everyone else shows up on time, you know?”

“yeah, yeah. whatever.” ellie rolled her eyes, trying to focus on work and push the pain out of her mind. “everyone else has a car.”

ellie really did not like austin. his whole holier-than-thou attitude irked her to no end.

still, it beat being jobless, so she knew she shouldn’t complain.

“don’t let it happen again.”

“i won’t, i swear. i’m really sorry.”

“right, okay, i’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick, you alright out here?”

she bit her tongue, holding back a groan.

austin ‘going to the bathroom’ was his way of saying that he’s gonna get really fucking stoned and then sit around and do nothing all day. this was a daily occurrence, at this rate.

“yeah, yeah, i’m good.” ellie mumbled, shoving away the annoyance she felt when he walked past her.

austin was a dickhead, but he was never outright mean, not really. he just… he thought he was better than everyone. a classic ego-centric prick.

as much as she hated him, she did like having a job— and being able to afford a place to sleep at night.

“ohhh, ellie, i gave you more shifts, like you asked.” he said before he walked out, smiling at her. “take a look at the schedule when ya get the chance.”

he has to be kidding.

she’s been begging for more shifts since god knows how long ago, and he decides to give her more now? when she doesn’t even know how she’s gonna be able to make it to work?

amazing. just what she wanted!

“great.” ellie muttered, shooting him a glare even though he was already gone. “more hours that i don’t know how the hell i’m gonna get to.”

she shook her head, austin wasn’t worth getting this pissed about— especially when he did try to do what she asked.

the store was never busy in the morning, so she sat in austins chair, finally taking a second to herself. she went over her options on how this was going to go.

she could have asked dina for a ride, if dina wasn’t off on some work trip about three hours away for the next two weeks, taking her and jesses shared car with her.

terrible timing.

she’d take public transportation if it was reliable and also if she didn’t have a few bad experiences with it already.

that wasn’t really a good option.

uber was definitely not an option. she already was going to have to buy new glasses and eventually pay for her phone to get fixed, she wasn’t about to drop $50 a day on ride.

she was screwed.

nothing was working out for her right now— the universe was laughing at her, just like it always did.

she wanted to kick and scream, but that wouldn’t help anything, plus she wouldn’t be able to kick very well right now.

oh well… she’d be fine, she’d just have to push through it.

her phone buzzed in her pocket and she winced when she seen the cracked screen again, it was so wrecked that it barely let her type in her password.

──── ✧《✿》✧ ────

was ellie stupid for agreeing to go out of her way when she was already struggling to walk? yes.

does she care? no.

jesse was a good guy, he’s done a shit ton of favors for her, so this was the least she could do.

she’d never been to the bakery, but she always smelled it when she’d pass by, and it always looked like it’d be good. she did deserve a little treat after the day she had, anyways.

thank you jesse and jesse’s money.

when ellies shift is over, she feels so much worse than she did earlier, and austin repeating that ellie looked like shit over and over again wasn’t helping.

ugh.

“you’re a wreck, williams—“

“—goodbye austin, byeee. i’m leaving, out the door, shifts over. see you tomorrow.” she slammed the door shut, letting out a frustrated sigh as she got on her board again. “god. fuck off.”

the bakery wasn’t far, it was literally right across the street, but it felt like it was miles away to ellie. she leaned on the wall for a second to catch her breath before she walked inside.

it was a cute shop, one of those places you see on pinterest or instagram, with the led light signs and fake plants, it was actually really nice. she doesn’t know why she never came here before.

“let me know if i can help… oh god. it’s you.”

she looks over at you and she starts to wish the fall had just killed her on impact.

“please… pretend like this morning didn’t happen. i don’t want to deal with arguing right now.” ellie sighs, not giving you time to reply to her before she goes into saying her order.

she looked at your name tag as she paid, she could barely see what it said, her eyes squinting slightly as she tried to make out your name.

you scribbled little smiley faces and stars around your name, which was cuter than ellie would like to admit.

“go sit, i’ll bring your stuff to you after i box them, ‘kay?”

“i can wait here.“

“sit.”

“fine.”

she sat at one of the booths, attempting to use her phone without losing a finger. she wasn’t even paying attention to the content, just scrolling mindlessly as the memories of this morning replayed in her mind over and over again.

she was hoping to never see you again.

maybe coming here was a mistake.

“here.” you say after a few moments, placing the boxes on the table. “enjoy.”

you were being kind, but she could read behind the curtness of your tone.

you thought she was dumb. she could always tell by the way you talked to her; that look of disdain on your face.

“thanks.” she said, and then the silence took over again. it was obvious that neither of them wanted to start another conversation after the way the last one ended.

ellie couldn’t help but notice how just scraped up your hands were. you had bandages on them, but the blood that seeped through was bright red, like it was demanding to be looked at.

demanding ellie to feel bad for what she did.

damn it, she really should’ve just paid attention this morning.

would’ve saved her a lot of trouble.

she got up, sucking her teeth and hissing as she shifted her weight. she leaned on the table for balance as a few curse words left her mouth.

“god, you’re the dumbest person i’ve ever met.” you declared, confirming her suspicions.

she scoffed, trying to shake the pain away from her ankle.

man, this sucked.

“shut the hell up.” ellie snapped. “you don’t have to be so snarky, you know? i’m already dealing with the consequences of my shitty morning, you can drop the whole, ‘i’m better than you’ bullshit. if you listened earlier, you’d have known i said that i have no other choice.”

“i did listen, idiot. i don’t mean to sound like i’m trying to be better than you, okay? i’m sorry. but you seriously don’t have anyone that can help you out? do you have friends?”

“i have friends, asshole. they’re just either busy or i don’t want to inconvenience them. what’s it matter to you anyways?”

you don’t really have an answer, you’re not sure why it matters. maybe it’s because ellie looked really miserable, or maybe it’s because it had been partially your fault that she’s hurt… or maybe both. but you couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt about the situation she was in.

“i have a car.”

ellie paused, looking up at you. she wasn’t sure if she heard you correctly, or if this was just some weird, shitty joke.

“okay? congratulations?”

“don’t make me spell it out.” you reply, annoyance clear in your tone. “i’m saying, you’re obviously hurt, and it’s kinda my fault, so… if you needed a ride…”

“no.”

“don’t be stubborn. look, i get it, we’re not on the best terms right now, but i can’t just let you go like this without at least offering, y’know? plus, you seem like you could use the help.”

ellie’s mind was screaming at her to accept— it was logical. you offered a ride, she needs a ride, she should accept your offer.

“i could be a serial killer for all you know. you don’t even know my name.”

“yeah, okay. you? a serial killer? i’d just run away. not like you’d be able to chase after me.”

“hey, i can run pretty damn fast, you know?” ellie hissed. if she wanted, she could definitely chase you down… but she’d rather not do that at the moment. that was probably not a great idea. “hell, i could be an axe murderer.”

“what’s your name?”

“huh?”

“are you dumb?”

“…it’s ellie.”

“‘kay, ellie, now i know your name and if you’re observant— which i doubt but i’m gonna play devils advocate— you know mine. nice to meet you. now we know each other. i’m not gonna sit here and play 21 questions, do you want me to take you to your place or not?”

“what if you kill me anyways?” she asked, she was kidding, she just wanted to piss you off.

“i am not gonna fucking— you know what, you’re annoying. never mind.”

“wait. i’m sorry.”

fuck.

maybe this whole thing about you wasn’t so bad. you were just— abrasive.

she swallowed, forcing herself to stay calm. “i’ll take a ride.”

“what’s the magic word?”

“die.” ellie hissed. “you’re not funny.”

“almost! that’s four words. do you want a hint?”

ellie stared at you blankly for a few seconds before answering. “i am not saying please.”

“you just said it.” you grinned. “look, i get off at 6:30, that’s like… 20 minutes from now, if you don’t mind waiting. i’ll come get you when i’m off, sound good?”

“yeah. that sounds good.”

this is such a bad idea.

#max writes ☆#btw #ladybugs symbolize positive change #and luck #will make a part 2 eventually maybe i’ll actually finish this series #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #the last of us #tlou #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #wlw #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x f!reader #sorry i know jesses ooc but i rewrote it like 10492 times i can’t get it to sound good

1K notes · View notes

bluegiragi · 1 year

Text

ghost gives konig a private lesson feat. soap as a very happy spectator.

read updates early on patreon

#in this part konig tries his very best to not pop a stiffie #and ghost smirks #which rocks his world more than it should <3 #we love sparring tropes in this house #its such a good excuse to have the boys put each other into all kinds of poses #let's just call it practise for later #also #only one last story-based part in this series before it devolves completely into more.../fun/ content #peep the patreon for when that happens since tumblr wont let me do more than post previews #thanks for reading this far btw #y'all have been such an enthusiastic audience <3 #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #konig #cod mw2 #soapbox saga #ghostsoap #ghostsoapkonig

6K notes · View notes

poorly-drawn-mdzs · 7 months

Text

At rest, your lungs wish to deflate, and your ribcage expands outwards.

#better drawn mdzs #mdzs #wei wuxian #yiling laozu #Happy Friday the 13th!#This is scientific fact btw!#Ventilation operates through a series of active and passive forces #The active forces being muscular contraction with inhalation and exhalation having their own set of muscles.#but the interesting part is the passive forces at work:#The lungs have a certain level of elasticity to them - meaning the more they expand the more the those elastic forces are functioning-#-to try and return the system to rest (exhalation passive forces). Your diaphragm is the main force - pushing against the lungs at rest.#Your ribcage on the other hand is under a state of being pulled outwards. It *wants* to be as open as possible.#These to contradicting forces create a constant push and pull which assists in the ebb and flow of air. Most significantly with exhalation.#Now that being said - the primary action of inhalation ventilation is through control centers in your brainstem.#If you lose connection to that due to trauma you're going to need ventilation assistance.#Small note: Respiration is the cellular event of chemical exchange in the alveoli. Ventilation is airflow and pressure.#They are both important but also very different things. Sadly used interchangeably.#My anatomy nerd brain is screaming over the inaccurate ribcage...but its...recognizable. I will get it right one day.#Okay nerd rant over (I cut out a lot of stuff about pressure gradients. They are cool. To me.)#This is a redraw of an mspaint doodle I made back in april. I yearn to make the Yiling Laozu eerie as he deserves #Tear that bitch (affectionate) apart!#Been playing around with hatching for a while and its amazing how many styles there are! Not sure I'll stick with this one (but it was fun)

1K notes · View notes

nezhanetwork · 7 months

Text

last life bdubs and tango together cuz i'm delusional

#life series #last life #bdoubleo100 #bdubs #tangotek #my art #aaaand some more!!! :D #they're besties! ignore the part with murder tho #btw this is not a shipping art! thank you!

672 notes · View notes

crispywizardtale · 5 months

Text

261 notes · View notes

blaithnne · 4 months

Text

I ever tell you about my Frilda fanchild? Her name is Alora Astrid Folke, she likes going by AJ!

213 notes · View notes

mangk0 · 6 months

Text

The Giantess of Ironwood 💕💐💥

#SHES FINALLY HERE PART 2 #finally stumbled upon some free time after my driving test (which was fucking postponed until JANUARY BTW)#anyways here’s my girl #so close to ironwood in the game istg I’m so fucking EXCITED DIDE #gowr #god of war ragnarok #god of war ragnarok fanart #angrboda #angrboda fanart #angrboda for my mini series of drawing all the gowr kids #YOU KNOW WHOS NEXT YALL. ITS HIS TIME (in like five years lmao)#not mil

310 notes · View notes

pathetic-gamer · 1 year

Text

Fashion in Fódlan: a very long, non-comprehensive, and entirely unsolicited analysis

The fe3h writers did a pretty solid job of creating three nations with clear social, economic, and political differences. The fashion stands out to me as doing exceptionally well at expressing those differences, and, just like in the real world, it works as a sort of socioeconomic barometer that helps tell Fódlan's story.

In this post, I'll break down the key clothing trends in the three regions and provide some light interpretations, largely related to $$

Please note that I'm NOT using this post to discuss historical inspirations. Also, not everyone from every region is included. In particular, anyone whose outfit is too much of just a riff on a class uniform (like the Ashen Wolves or the various minsters in the empire) is left out.

There's a part 2 now lol (church of seiros time); part 3 as well!

1. Holy Kingdom of Faerghus: function IS fashion, baby!!

Fearghus, beloved land of ice and snow and spooky folktales about watering your fields with blood and ghosts living under the ground - you did not come to fuck around. You're here to protect the commoners and go back home to a stew that may, if you're lucky, actually have some meat in it. In this kingdom, you're going to dress warm and you're going to like it. Oh, you have some extra money? Gonna spend it on something for yourself? Better be using it for something useful, like keeping your plate armor in good condition. (Please note: Catherine, though being Faeghan, is excluded because she wears the uniform of the Knights of Seiros, not her own clothes.)

Trends:

High collars, long skirts - generally as little exposed skin as possible. (There is exactly one pair of bare hands in the entire kingdom. Mercie is getting a little bold 👀)

Fur cloaks/capes/gloves, or just fur around the cuffs and collars if they don't have a full fur cloak.

Armor - every single man is dressed in armor, as is Ingrid. Most of the men have full suits of plate armor, but Felix, Rodrigue, and Ashe are wearing only gambesons (note the quilting in Felix's sleeve - that's what gives it away, imo). The folks in plate armor would have gambesons on as well (you can see Ingrid's underneath her breastplate), acting as padding for the plate armor. I think Gilbert is wearing plate armor with a tunic over it (a realistic historical practice).

Fastening is accomplished with clasps and lacing, and there are relatively few buttons or adornments to be seen on the main garments - Annette is an exception, which will be addressed later.

Brief analysis:

Notice the economical use of fabric - their clothing tends to lie flat, with fabric being layered for warmth rather than pleated, gathered, or puffed. The folks in plate armor may spice it up a little with a sash of some kind if they aren't already wearing a cloak or cape. I'm assuming Gilbert's ~stylish tunic~ is keeping him warm well enough to not need a cloak or larger scarf. (Mercedes has a ruffles and puffier sleeves, plus a fuller skirt, but it's worth noting that she is currently part of a merchant house, and merchants tend to be wealthier and actually occupy a unique social class between nobles and commoners.)

Note the colors, too. Greens, browns, and yellows are the cheapest and easiest dyes to make and use. That bright sort of tawny color that Gilbert, Annette, and Jeralt all have is easy and cheap. Gilbert's grey tunic could feasibly just be undyed wool. A true blue is difficult, but you'll note that the blue the people wear up here leans towards grey and green - could be that the dye is faded, or that it was never very blue to begin with. The only true blue is on Dimitri.

All of this reinforces the idea that Faerghus is not a rich nation, and the nobility don't live too far off from the common folk. The vast majority of the cost we see is actually their armor (worn by Dimitri, Dedue, Sylvain, Gilbert, Jeralt, Matthias, Ingrid, and also if we're getting all the way into it, Gwendal, Miklan, Lonato, and Baron Dominic as well), which is would have been pretty expensive. You'll notice they mostly wear grey armor with very little extra decoration, keeping the costs low. Ingrid, the poorest of the nobles in armor, also has the least actual plate. Felix and Rodrigue both have full cloaks, which most other people don't have (just Dimitri), but they also aren't wearing plate, so clearly that's a calculated choice.

That being said, even within these more economical fashions, we can still see clear differences between classes. Most noticeably, Felix (rich) and Ashe (not rich) have very similar outfits, but Felix's tunic/gambeson is lined with fur, while Ashe's is not.

BTW I'm of the opinion that the Fraldariuses are the richest people in the kingdom other than the royal family, and I believe that specifically of their fancy cloaks lol

so luxurious~

2. Adrestian Empire: look at my money bitch

Ah, the land of beauty and excess! I love to live in the capital and visit the cultural icon that is the opera and pretend that I'm not in Wealth Inequality Central. (Please note: Petra is not included, since she dresses according to Brigid's fashions. Also note: I fuck w these styles so hard, dude.)

Trends:

Short skirts (above the knee - Dorothea has a draped over-skirt thing, but her main skirt is shorter, and Manuela has leg slits instead of a short hem), low or square necklines, open backs. In general, we're looking at a lot of exposed skin. Forgot to include Cornelia in the pics, but she has this too.

Tailored jackets with just SO many buttons. Hanneman fits into the tailored jacket category, but isn't included in the highlights by virtue of Not Enough Buttons. (Some concept art is included here to drive the point home.)

Finally, there's this specific very specific double-breasted neckline thing (baby edelgard is separate bc i forgot to include her when i made the first image shhhh)

Brief analysis:

Adrestian fashion is all about displaying status and wealth, in this case through ornamentation, rich colors, uniforms denoting class/role, and also a fair amount of excess fabric.

Historically, fabric itself was one of the major indicators of wealth - in fact, certain historical styles very explicitly showed off just who was rich enough to afford, for example, a whole gown made from the same length of fabric, or even just an entire skirt panel with no piecing. In the Adrestian Empire, We've got excess fabric galore, tucked away into all those beautiful ruffles and bell sleeves, layered skirts, unnecessary capes, double collars, and puffy pants - and it's all in much more luxurious colors, too. In fact, I'm pretty sure the largest single piece of fabric on anyone in the game is Edelgard's cape, which is then also adorned with dozens of buttons and extra bits of fabric. It's almost definitely fully silk, both the outer layer and the lining. (And it's badass.)

Look at all that fluff! Dimitri's cloak probably rivals hers in the size of the actual fabric itself, but his is likely a heavy wool (unlined, maybe?), plus has a lot of fur.

"Oh, but pg, there are capes in Faerghus, too!" yes, but in Faerghus, they live in the arctic /hj. Note the vast expanses of exposed skin down here in the empire - clearly, cold is not an issue. You'll also note that the cloaks in Faerghus were heavy and lined with fur; that's not the case here. Given the prevalence of tailored jackets and the dual colors on Ferdinand's cape, I'm guessing they're either a comparatively lightweight wool with a silk lining (typical for tailored suit jackets, nothing particularly noteworthy about that), or just fully silk. (Bernie's shawl is just cotton though, prove me wrong...) Hanneman and Manuela are exceptions, since they both have fur, but they live at Garreg Mach, not in Enbarr.

The jackets themselves, by the way, could be silk OR wool. Ferdinand's in particular (especially thropes) reminds me of early 18th c. waistcoats, which would have been full silk.

We also have much richer colors down here in the land of art and song. Red, purple, and black were all very difficult colors to maintain, and very expensive. The most expensive colors, in fact. Not gonna lie, as far as price per yardage goes, I think Hubert's outfit might rival Edelgard’s in expense.

A notable exception to the excess fabric bit is Bernadetta. However, her dress is in what is arguably the most expensive color, and is heavily decorated, so that's a reasonable trade-off, and I don't blame her. I, too, would go for a smaller amount of pretty purple silk embroidered with bright, beautiful gold and yellow instead of a bigger, more impressive-looking option. It's about the little things.

I do want to take look at Caspar, in particular. He's unique in that he's dressed in a full suit of armor. But, given that he's the second son and not set to inherit anything, unlike all his waistcoat-wearing friends, he isn't being held to some particular uniform, and even if he were, it's the ministry of military affairs. Of course they wear real armor. What's interesting is that his armor is a sort of rosy grey/brass, rather than silver, and he has a lot more decoration and flair than the folks with full armor in Faerghus, in both his throuses and thropes outfits.

Worth noting, btw, that we have exactly zero examples of actual commoners in Adrestia, other than generic NPCs. Dorothea belongs to that peculiar niche that is opera and acting, so she is expected to dress and act like a noble, despite not having a title or property of any sort.

Adrestia - and Enbarr in particular - leads the slow march of fashion across Fódlan, given that it's a cultural hub and is so much wealthier, while Fearghus slowly picks things up over time. Thus, we have Annette, who lives closer to the empire and has disposable income, having some decorative buttons and tassels and a mock low neckline.

It's not nearly as much as the actual Adrestians, but she's picking it up!

3. Leicester Alliance: the beeeest of both worlds~

Oh, Alliance, you messy bitch. What we see here is a mix of everything, where some of them are influenced by Faerghus, and others by Adrestia (just like how some of them have kingdom-style names and some have empire-style names), and a few fit neither camp. There are clear reasons for similarities where they exist, though, so let's take a look! (Please note: Claude is not included, since his clothes are heavily influenced by Almyra.)

Hilda and Lysithea have the frills, puffy sleeves/skirt, short hems, low/square necklines, and expensive colors of the empire (plus, Lysithea gets a decorative veil in dark purple. How ~fancy~). This reinforces the idea that Adrestia sets the standards for fashion: Hilda cares about fashion and keeps up with the times. Lysithea lives on the border and was briefly under the control of the empire, and thus is influenced by it. Mostly, though, I think it's about how she tries to seem older and tends to see Hilda as a model of maturity (lol), so she's following that example.

Holst's armor is quite decorative, similar to Caspar's, but what stands out to me is the fringe in particular. We see the exact same fringe on Caspar, Hubert, and Edelgard, but not anywhere else.

Lorenz and Erwin are a bit of a border case, tbh! They both wear practical, full plate armor with little in the way of extra decor (other than Lorenz's rose and Erwin's little cape thing), but Jesus christ how much does it cost to keep it all so purple like that??? That's a blatant display of wealth that would impress any empire noble.

Marianne, on the other hand, would fit right in in Faerghus, with the old fashioned long skirt, high collar, capelet, and lack of extra decoration other than some pretty trim. Makes sense, since her territory is so close to the kingdom and she's clearly not interested in trying to stay fashionable.

Judith is dressed very practically, has some fun puffy sleeves and bright but inexpensive colors, has a short cape and gambeson (a short vest one, though). I want to say leans toward Faerghus, which makes sense since it's on the border and the house did at one point split off, with part going back to the kingdom.

Now we get to the only real, honest-to-god, never-owned-land-or-property, born-as-and-remain-now peasants/commoners: Leonie and Cyril. (Raphael was born into the merchant class and was able to support himself and Maya by selling his estate, so while we can consider him a real commoner at this point, it's not nearly to the same degree.)

Their economic status is obvious from their outfits: both have very practical clothes with no extra decoration, in cheap and easily accessible colors. Leonie's cloak wrapped around her waist is purely functional - she can use it when the weather calls for it, but it's out of the way of her arrows when she doesn't need it - and looks to be pretty soft, so likely is lightweight. She has a hint of some light protective wear (note the quilted sleeve) and the same front clasps as Felix and Ashe, so i think she's also meant to be wearing a gambeson, but it's shorter and less protective. Cyril doesn't seem to have any armor at all except for the shoulder protection - we can tell from the lack of center-front closures on his shirt and the shape of the cuffs of the sleeves that he's actually just wearing a tunic (or rather, two tunics on top of each other).

Raphael also has a very practical outfit, but notice that his is so much more protective, probably because he has a little more money than the other two. He has very limited, sparsely placed plate armor, but he is covered head-to-toe in quilted cloth armor. He's ready to get some punching done, baby!

Our real outlier, however, is Ignatz... But you bet your bottom dollar I've got an explanation for that one, too!!!!! Mans is an artist and he has rich(?) merchant parents, he can do whatever he wants.

Absurdly unnecessary lengths of (probably not very expensive) cloth? Sure. Fancy feathers that literally no one else gets? Why not! A billion buttons, half of which arent even keeping anything closed? Curly and intricate cloak fasteners probably made of some kind of cording? Sashes and tassels and a decorative sword??? Fuck it, we ball. I love this so much, it's easily my favorite outfit in the entire game and I would ABSOLUTELY wear it irl. I already have the right haircut and glasses and boots, I'm ready

4. In conclusion

These designs really are Fódlan in a nutshell. From the quiet wealth and functionality in Felix's fur-lined gambeson to the audacious luxury of Ferdinand's waistcoat to the unrepentant anarchism of Ignatz's entire vibe, we can see the history - and future - of the continent outlined right before our eyes:

Faerghus is cold, practical, focused on survival, and probably has the most even distribution of wealth. Leicester is a mix of remnants of the empire and kingdom, with clear wealth disparity but also a relatively high amount of social mobility and communal support systems. Adrestia has significantly wealth disparity, with nobles very disconnected from their people and instead busy politicking about.

Side note I know I said I wouldn't go into the historical inspirations, BUT I do think it's interesting that the men's clothing in Adrestia - particularly the tailoring - is similar to much later styles than the men's clothing in Faerghus, and the reverse is true of the women's sleeves and necklines.

Okay that's all, thanks for reading!

#fire emblem three houses #fe3h analysis #holy kingdom of faerghus #adrestian empire #leicester alliance #golden deer #black eagles #blue lions #fodlan's fashion icons #(not actually part of the series but it's topical ok)#this is why i cant do cosplay btw #i see an outfit i like and i immediately am like ok how do you make that irl? get me seven yards of cotton muslin we're doing a mockup #like why would i make Felix’s outfit if I'm not going all in on actual quilted armor yk?#i dont want Ignatz's pants if theyre going to just hang lazily and bunch at the ankle it needs BODY it needs STRUCTURE #yk?#anyway its super late im going to bed now bye #fashion in fodlan

2K notes · View notes

bonefall · 2 months

Note

no joke you turned star flower into one of my least favorite characters into one of my favorites. this is why i follow you and this is why its important to talk about this stuff. even when people are aware of these issues, it can be hard to see just how deep they run until somebody points it out

Star Flower deserves better, most of the cast of DOTC deserves better but Star Flower, Snake, and Bumble deserve the most better

She didn't DO anything man. She's not even that mean. It's super popular for people to just end up absolutely hating her because of Thunder being jealous and angry at her, but she didn't fuckin "betray" anyone, and everything Thunder is saying about her is SUPER messed up and should really have been examined!

Like... how do they unironically write Thunder looking at Star Flower, saying "YOU ONLY LIKE MY DAD BECAUSE HE REMINDS YOU OF YOUR FATHER" and just let that hang in the air?? And leave Clear Sky's internal monologue about how she's going to obey him, be more loyal to him than his "own kin" (Thunder) whomst he's actively abusing, and how he finally has someone who won't question him?

I need her to get therapy, man. I need her and Thunder to get therapy and Clear Sky to blow up.

#It's not ''betrayal'' to warn your father about an assassination attempt #the moor cats broke the terms of their deal first THEY were the ones playing dirty #But that doesn't matter because One Eye is a stinky rogue not WORTHY of a fair fight I fucking guess!!#For how much this series cries and whines about being Just As Bad or whatever the fuck #it sure does fall apart the minute that our antagonist isn't part of the in-group!#''THIS ISNT UR FIGHT :(((('' shut the fuck UP thunder it's not YOUR FIGHT either you're just assmad he came prepared!!#star flower #They don't even need to get better in therapy btw I'll be fine if they go to a class that comes up on the credit card charge as THERAPY #but they just go to pipe bomb building class or something #bone babble

104 notes · View notes

uravitypng · 2 years

Text

tsukishima has such bully energy. he'll pull the chair under you before you sit down, he'll steal your things and hold them above your head, he'll call you nasty names and laugh about how ugly you are. bully tsukishima thinks of you at night while he's stroking his cock. he thinks about how you look stunning with watery eyes, when you're trying your hardest not to cry and you pout so pretty. his favourite thing is when you try so hard to get your things back, you'll go on your tippy toes and jump up, causing your breasts to bounce slightly and your thighs jiggle, if you're wearing thigh high socks that day they'll roll down. he'll think about the time when he was behind you on the stairs, your skirt was swaying and if he looked close enough he could see your underwear. he cant stop thinking about you, maybe tomorrow he'll be able to get you to cry.

#tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x reader smut #whenever i jump my thighs jiggle and everything bounces so this may be self indulge #listen this might become a series + part two + or full fic ? i really like this concept #this is a college/uni au setting btw <3 #♡ tsukki #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x reader smut #chubby reader smut #hq smut #hq x reader #tsukishima smut #kei tsukishima #chubby reader #tsukishima x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader #♡ mine / writing #haikyuu x chubby reader smut

1K notes · View notes

bluegiragi · 1 year

Photo

rough (part 1)

read the full version (nsfw) on patreon

#soap normally wouldnt be this flustered over a simple bj but the fact that ghost is watching really does it for him #btw #this whole episode of the series overall is by far the longest comic ive made for this miniseries #so i had to split it into two parts #to those on my patreon #enjoy the filth #soapbox saga #ghost x soap x konig #ghostsoap #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #konig #cod mw2 #giragi art

5K notes · View notes

aq2003 · 3 months

Text

my personal hot take of the day is that you cannot fully appreciate ten if you don't also appreciate martha and the dynamic they have

#ten's trait of always expecting to be alone in the end but still craving connection more than anything #and that leading to fucking disastrous results bc he can't reconcile these two parts of him #is EXEMPLIFIED in his dynamic w martha. you do not see it w rose you only see it like twice w donna #and imo it's one of the most interesting and honestly relatable things about his character #dr who #10 era #ten and martha #when i watched series 3 i didn't see someone who couldn't love someone else i saw someone #that falls in love (/platonic) SO quickly and SO easily and needs to be around people SO bad it actively scares him #btw the converse of this statement is not necessarily true shoutout to all the people who don't actually care for anything in rtd era #except for martha. keep having valid & true opinions in life like that you guys

117 notes · View notes

the-ace-with-spades · 1 year

Text

Bradley is eleven, will turn twelve in five months, his mom has been dead for over a year, and his dad for over nine.

His homeroom teacher gives him a permission slip for a school trip to some dumb museum Bradley’s probably already been to and says, “Your dad needs to sign it before next Monday.”

It’s Mav picking him up from school today — it’s Ice, usually, but he is supervising night-time flight maneuvers tonight — so Bradley gets in the car and they go over the normal, how was school today, any new grades, any homework to do, do you need to bring anything for class tomorrow.

They’ve stopped at a light and Bradley takes out the permission slip and says, “Mrs. Sanchez said my dad needs to sign it before Monday or I won’t go.”

Mav—Mav freezes. His hand grips the shift gear and he clenches his jaw, not looking at Bradley. The car behind them has to honk for him to snap out of it.

“I’m—I’m not your dad, Bradley,” he finally says.

“It’s just what Mrs. Sanchez said,” he points out. He doesn’t think it’s such a big deal — Mav’s been doing everything a dad would for years now, for Bradley, and Ice has been helping him the last couple of years. It’s a conclusion that many come to and it seems logical. Bradley is sure half of his teachers thought that even back when his mom was alive, Mav had certainly been to enough PTA meetings with her that it’d be an easy mistake.

“You can correct her, buddy, no one is going to be mad if you correct her, okay?”

They arrive at the house and Mav still hasn’t added anything. Bradley shrugs it off — Mav has these moments, sometimes, when he gets all quiet and unresponsive. Ice usually tells him to leave him alone or wait a couple of hours and try to cuddle with him. Bradley is kind of too big for that now, but it seems to help sometimes.

So Bradley asks if Mav needs help with dinner and after hearing no, goes back to his room.

Out of all that mess, he forgets about the permission slip.

He sits down and fills out all the empty lines so Mav just has to sign it — in capital letters, his handwriting isn’t that readable yet — and leaves just that last line with the date and signature empty.

He thinks, once again, about what Mrs. Sanchez said.

He doesn’t feel the need to correct her, still. He barely remembers his dad — he knows he loved them and he’ll never forget all the stories he heard from everyone but they’re, well, just stories. Mav is the one who taught him how to ride a bike and helped him make stupid macaroni projects for art classes, taught him how to count to a hundred, and how to tie his shoelaces and who would notice when Bradley was outgrowing his clothes or needed a new shoe size. Mav is there, every memory he has. Mav loves him like his mom and dad did.

Mav is his dad.

If Bradley’d really think about it, Ice is getting really close to being his dad, too. He’s making Bradley’s school lunches and helping him with his English homework from time to time, and he comes to Bradley’s matches and, even if Mav will never admit it, he’s the one who choses Bradley’s Christmas and birthday presents. He makes him hot chocolate when he has nightmares and stays with him for hours in the living room, reading plane manuals out loud, in the same tone his mom used to use to read his bedtime stories.

Bradley calling Mav his dad is as logical as people assuming he is his dad. And maybe it can be the same with Ice, in the near future, or maybe even now, if he agrees.

Bradley wants to call Mav dad.

So he grabs the permission slip and goes to the kitchen to tell him that.

“I don’t know, Ice, I just don’t know.”

He doesn’t notice Bradley there, standing with the piece of paper in his hand in the doorway. The phone’s cord is stretched across the kitchen, almost completely straight, as he talks with the handle between his ear and shoulder, slicing an onion at the same time.

“I’ve always wanted to have kids, as unrealistic as it seemed, but not like this,” he continues. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this, I’m not his dad, he’s not my son, it’s just wrong to think that, I’m not—He can’t think that.”

Bradley blinks. Once, twice, a third time. Takes a quiet step back behind the doorframe, flattens his back on the cold wall. Holds his breath.

“I mean, you’ve always said you don’t want kids,” Mav says, the knife clanking on the cutting board as he changes the hand holding the phone. “We made do with the situation, obviously, but we’re not his parents—”

Bradley doesn’t want to hear more.

Bradley was right — he’s already been to the Castle Air Museum. More than once, with his mom, with Mav and Ice, and with Uncle Slider and Aunt Sarah.

His dad didn’t sign the permission slip but Mav did.

It’s sunny so they’re left to wander around the outside display. The tour was boring — their tour guide couldn’t even answer the questions about engines and wingspans and takeoff capacity and it was so disappointing to know more than the adult that was supposed to teach them, again.

The rest of his class went with the tour guide, to see the open cockpit of the Mentor but Bradley just turned around to the F-4 that was on the edge of the display, old and partially reconstructed with cheap metal and plastic. He sits down on the grass in front of it and lets the sun shine at the modern paint that should not belong on the fuselage of a Phantom.

Mrs. Sanchez comes over, standing above him, looking at the Phantom with an appreciation that is clearly less understanding and more awe at the sight. She hums before asking Bradley, “You don’t want to see the cockpit with everyone? Maybe they’ll let you sit in the pilot seat, today. Our group is small.”

The open cockpit belongs to T-34, a piston-driven one they stopped using in the fifties. “I flew one of those, but it was a T-34C, powered by a turboprop.”

Mrs. Sanchez looks at him, tilting her head a bit, not really understanding what Bradley said, like most people don’t when he talks about planes. ”I suppose it’s not that impressive of a place when your dad is a naval aviator, is it?”

Mav told him to correct her so he does, “He’s not my dad.”

He brings his knees closer, wishing she’d go away. Instead, she sits down next to him, her white pants smudged green by the grass in seconds.

“Is something wrong at home, Bradley? Is your—Is everything okay with Pete?”

“Yeah,” he says because he doesn't want to be whiney. He’s already been enough trouble. “His dad flew one of those.”

Mrs. Sanchez looks at the plague in front of them to remind herself of the plane’s name. “A Phantom?”

“Yeah, during Vietnam War.”

“He must be really proud of Pete then.”

Bradley supposes he’d be. “He didn’t come back.”

Mav lost his dad, too, and then his mom. He met Bradley’s mom in the foster system and she became like a sister to him. Bradley probably wouldn’t even know Mav if Duke Mitchell was alive.

Bradley was in the foster system for three weeks when his mom died, before Mav and his case worker had filed all the appropriate paperwork. He was placed in a foster family in the neighboring town — the wife, Sandie, didn’t work and would take him to school every morning, and the husband, Robert, was a corporate lawyer, bent from six to five. They would take Bradley to church every Sunday with the rest of the kids even though Sundays were the only days Mav had enough time to drive out of Fresno and visit him while the paperwork was still in progress,

They were nice, he supposes, and some of the kids called them mom and dad, so they couldn’t be too bad.

“Is there a way I could go back to the foster system?”

Mrs. Sanchez looks away from the plane, clears her throat, and asks gently, “Why would you go back there?”

“I dunno, just—Is there a way to put me back there?”

“I don’t think so, no, Bradley, not unless—” she breaks off, taking a deep breath, and says softly, “I’m sure Pete wouldn’t like that.”

Maybe he wouldn’t like that but it’d make everything easier for everyone.

It’s a few weeks later. Mrs. Sanchez hasn’t mentioned anything to Bradley even if she keeps on looking out for him during recess so he doesn’t think she’ll drill the topic.

Mav and Ice have both gone to the PTA meeting which Bradley finds odd. They’ve always been very careful about their relationship — his mom had given him a talk about how he couldn’t call Ice Mav’s boyfriend when he was six, well, Bradley had called him his husband because he didn’t really know the difference back then, and he had been instructed to keep it a secret.

He’s never mentioned it to anyone, since then, especially not to Mrs. Sanchez. He used to think it was stupid because they were both his parents and they should both be allowed to come to his plays and career days and charity fairs, but now he supposes it was convenient since Ice didn’t want a kid and probably didn’t want to be included in all those parental stuff anyway.

They pick him up from Uncle Slider and Aunt Sarah’s place but they don’t say anything. Usually, they at least mention that Bradley has good grades.

Maybe he’s doing something wrong, again. He got into one fight a couple of weeks ago but Mav said it was alright as long as it didn’t happen again.

“Can you come up to the living room once you unpack?”

Bradley takes his time. He unpacks his English homework, the only one he couldn’t do but also one Uncle Slider couldn’t really help him with — Aunt Sarah probably could but she’s been sleeping the whole time because apparently being six months pregnant is making her super sleepy. Contemplates asking Ice for help with it but decides it’s probably better he doesn’t.

He needs to start doing these things alone. He can’t bother them forever.

In six years, he’s going to be in college, and he holds onto that thought.

“So, your grades are perfect and we’re really proud of how well you’re doing in school, but—But Mrs. Sanchez mentioned a couple of things about your behavior,” Mav says.

Bradley doesn’t sit down with them on the couch even though they left space for him in the middle. He also doesn’t reply anything.

They both look at Bradley for a long moment and he fidgets under their gazes.

“Mrs. Sanchez said you asked her whether we—whether we can give you back for adoption,” Mav begins. “We’re just worried about where that question came from, Bradley, we aren’t going to—”

He said we like Ice actually wants anything to do with Bradley’s guardianship.

“We love you, Bradley, we promised your mom we’d take care of you and—”

He isn’t their son. He’s a promise they’re keeping and nothing else.

“Can I go back to my room?”

“Buddy—” Mav begins again.

Bradley doesn’t want to hear whatever he has to say. He already knows everything he needs to know.

“I know you love me, I know you won’t give me back. It was just a stupid question, is all,” he says because that was the truth — they promised his mom they would love him and here they were, trying very hard to do that.

They don’t need to pretend it’s anything else.

“Okay,” Ice says, carefully. “I’ll make you some hot chocolate and we can talk some more—”

“I just want to go to sleep.”

There’s a moment of silence and they give each other a meaningful look before turning back to Bradley.

Ice notes, “It’s not even seven.”

“We painted the whole nursery with Uncle Slider, I’m just tired. Can I go?”

“You’re not in trouble,” Mav says.

“I know,” Bradley tells him even if he isn’t so sure about it. “Can I go? I still have some homework to do.”

part two/Slider POV now here

#bradley rooster bradshaw #mavdad #icemav #tgm #my fics #this was supposed to be a series but no time and too many wips #so im just posting it as it is #tho be prepared for icemav pov of this and slider pov and future post-mission hangster pov #so maybe part 2 coming?#it'll be angsty too but well ¯\_(ツ)_/¯#the ace rooster fic is being written btw bc #the mini fics are in my head and banging on the walls begging to come out #op #charlie writes

929 notes · View notes

redladydeath · 1 month

Text

Okay, so last night I decided I wanted to do something with Vox and body horror and this story concept ended up manifesting in my brain. Massive CW for psychosis that's not actually psychosis, as well as self-harm and body horror.

Vox and Alastor meet in the 1940s while they're both doing electrical engineering work for the war effort. Vox is only 22, so he falls fast and hard for Alastor, who decides to use the younger man's infatuation with him to his advantage. One night while they're out drinking, Alastor convinces Vox to make a blood oath with him. He tells him it's just symbolic, but in reality, there's magic involved; if Alastor kills him, he'll get all the years Vox was supposed to live added to his own lifespan, which is dwindling. He lures Vox into the woods and tries to murder him, but is shot by a hunter who happens upon the struggle. Vox nearly loses an eye, but survives the encounter and is able to go on with his life, albeit with some pretty intense trauma.

Twenty years later, it's the 1960s. Vox has been a successful television presenter for 10~15 years now. He's rich and is married with children, but is less than an ideal husband/father. When he's not at work, he's usually with Valentino, a young male prostitute who he's been having a secret affair with for the past year or two. The two of them are currently somewhere between a sugar daddy/baby arrangement and a legit relationship. Vox is overall pretty content with his life and hasn't thought about Alastor in years. That is, until he starts feeling everything change.

At first, it seems like it's just a bad cold; his joints are stiff and he has the chills constantly, but that's nothing too unusual and he continues going about his daily life. But then the delusions start. Vox begins hearing strange things whenever a radio is on– words and phrases that shouldn't be coming out of it, said in a familiar tone of voice. He starts seeing shadows moving just out of the corner of his eye, but when he turns to look at them, they're gone. When Vox looks in the mirror or watches clips from his show, there's something different– uncanny– about his own eyes that make him feel like he's looking at a stranger. It must be stress, he thinks; he's been working himself too hard.

But things only get worse. Vox's body is stiff and jerky and cold– suddenly very cold to the touch, although no one other than Vox can feel it. Food and drink and cigarettes lose their taste. His emotions feel muted– all except fear. He starts hearing this loud, irritating humming when he's in the studio and it makes it hard for him to work. People are starting to get worried. He's acting erratically, asking if they can hear or feel things that simply aren't there. His wife thinks he's building towards a nervous breakdown, but Vox knows that's not true. Something's happening to him, something no one can perceive but him.

Things continue to deteriorate. Vox thinks he can hear metal creaking when he moves. His face won't show up on camera anymore; the footage always ends up damaged somehow for reasons no one can explain. He smashes the family radio in front of his kids when he clearly hears Alastor's voice coming out of it, taunting him. He asks Valentino, who hasn't even been to church in the past decade, to connect him to his childhood priest because he thinks he's being possessed and wants an exorcism— if the Protestant God won’t help him, maybe the Catholic one will. It still doesn't work.

Things come to a head one night when Vox, desperate to prove to himself and everyone else that he's not crazy, takes a knife and cuts deep into the hand he used to make the pact with Alastor all those years ago. He cuts and cuts and cuts until finally– finally– he sees it: metal and wires and no blood. He was right. He tries to show his wife but only succeeds in scaring her out of her wits. He flees the house and takes the family car: he needs to go see Valentino, show him, ask him for help. He crashes the car into a lamppost while trying to drive with one hand. A cashier working late in a nearby television/radio store tries to help him, bringing him into the store to wait while he calls an ambulance.

When the cashier leaves him alone to go make the call in the backroom, Vox hears it again. He hears Alastor's voice coming out of the radio, telling him that his time is up; he's been living on borrowed (or rather, stolen) time for the past ten years and now it's time to come join him, down where they both belong. Vox can feel his "bones" cracking, his skin stretching and tearing; he can't hear anything except Alastor's voice alongside the blaring static emitting from all the TVs and radios in the store. He's dying he's dying he's dying– until he stumbles into a fusebox and the whole store is engulfed in an electrical fire.

When the firemen dig through the rubble, they never find a human body.

73 notes · View notes