#I literally just came from Gears of War

[slade-neko]

Sims 5 lookin' good.

#dumb #Disney Dreamlight Valley #it's free on Game Pass so I had to try it #I literally just came from Gears of War #chainsawing monsters #with blood everywhere #and now Didney game

[stvrchaser]

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬

( pairing ) : clarisse la rue x fem!reader

( words ) : 2000

( note ) : noticed that clarisse has her nails painted in the show and… well this came out of that. reader is heavily aphrodite coded but i don’t think it’s explicitly mentioned anywhere what cabin she’s actually from? only that she’s not from apollo’s and she’s on clarisse’s side for capture the flag

also don’t we just love that every fic i’ve ever published is literally 80% pining? honestly can’t tell you the last time one of my fics didn’t have a scene that goes on for like three paragraphs about how much admiration reader has for their love interest

oh and happy new year!!

Summer days can last for a lifetime and a fulfilling one at that. There’s so much to be done when the world wakes, engulfed in light and warmth, nurturing possibility. There’s so much to look forward to. But today, that anticipation has chosen to work against you.

The sun is setting now, approaching dinnertime, and Clarisse is nowhere to be found. For all of her spontaneity and occasional recklessness, it’s unlike her to abandon routines. That is, routines she shares with you. And walking to dinner together happens to be one of your longest-running practices.

You tried to ask around, careful not to sound too concerned so as not to spark rumors. See, Clarisse La Rue has never been publicly caught in a state that warrants concern. Clarisse La Rue is untouched by the fears that plague the rest of them. But you know better.

It isn’t until you come across a few Ares kids, very obviously overworked and looking nearly faint with exhaustion, that you come to your senses. It isn’t infrequent that Cabin 5 becomes victim to one of Clarisse’s drills, training until fatigue overpowers their fear of her authority. As predicted, you find her in a clear patch of the forest overlooking the strawberry fields. Some days she likes to train here, away from watchful eyes.

The setting sun casts her in golden light, bronze armor glistening alongside golden skin. Clarisse liked to train in full gear — a fruitful habit to get herself accustomed to the added weight of leather and metal. It allows her to move with ease, swinging her spear with grace despite the strength of her whole body being evident in every step. With her head held high, spear raised, and the incredible speed at which she moves, she doesn’t look even the slightest bit mortal, but rather a god amongst men. A warrior and hunter. She is the perfect picture of divinity if you’ve ever seen it.

You let your feet drag against the dirt, a fallen branch snapping beneath your weight. It informs Clarisse of your presence from a safe distance, although the remnants of her focused state aren’t any less intimidating. Her eyes burn bright like the electricity that charges the tip of her spear.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Clarisse realizes her error with a glance at the horizon where the sun is setting and you smile warmly, dismissing any indication of displeasure. You watch her demeanor change, the rigidity in her posture fading with an apologetic tip of her head. 

“I’ve been training. Those idiots would know that if they’d stuck around to join me.” Something tells you that that isn’t entirely true. Anyone could assume that she’d been training, but the matter of where was an entirely different question. As far as you know, this particular spot is something only the two of you are familiar with — a small refuge away from everyone else.  

“Well, we don’t all have your… passion for these things.”

“You think I’m ridiculous,” she says with a sigh. 

“Babe, you’re training for capture the flag. Not war.” Clarisse only shakes her head, knowing there’s no point in arguing. She thinks this is something the two of you might never see eye-to-eye on. While you like your fair bit of competition, Clarisse takes every victory with great significance. As she does with every loss.

“Here, I’ll help you,” you say, approaching to tuck a stray curl behind her ears. Your touch lingers at her cheeks, flushed from physical exertion and maybe something more by the way her gaze settles on your lips. Every intake of breath is louder now that you stand toe to toe and the adrenaline has started to wear off. She’s too worked up to have done this all for a game of capture the flag. “I hope you’re not doing all this to get back at Percy.” Her eyes still linger on your mouth and you think she might’ve not heard you until her brows furrow in confusion.

“Since when are you on a first-name basis?”

“Oh, come on,” you say with a disapproving shake of your head. “He’s just a kid.” You reach for the leather chord at the edge of her breastplate, undoing the knot with ease.

“He’s full of it.” She refuses to look at you now, her head turned upward as if she’d developed a sudden interest in trees. You can’t tell if she’s trying to maintain her composure to keep herself from saying something she’ll regret or if your gaze and proximity was distracting her from the discussion. Maybe a bit of both.

“He’s a baby. You could body-slam him into next Friday. It’s hardly a fair fight.” You untie the last knot keeping her breastplate in place, tugging upward to slip it over her head. Clarisse doesn’t even seem to realize that you’d freed her of her armor until the weight vanished from her body.

She looks at you then with an expression you can’t quite read. Something warm, like gratitude, but reluctant. When she speaks, it’s unexpectedly solemn.

“Do you really believe he killed The Minotaur? Him? Gods, everyone here trains themselves to death for that kind of stuff and he gets all the glory? He doesn’t even know how to shoot.” Now that you’ve been made aware of the gravity of the situation, it’s suddenly harder to find your words. This isn’t the petty rivalry you’d assumed it was, and you had to handle it as such.

“Well, I’m sure a few things have been exaggerated here and there, but that’s not his fault. People love to talk about him, but nobody’s really talking to him. I don’t think he’s had a say in anything that’s been said about him. You know how rumors spread around here.”

“But he’s—”

“Look,” you start, taking her hands into yours. “I’m not asking you to make him friendship bracelets. Just… try not to drown him in the lake, okay?”

You know the exact moment an idea hits her by the mischievous glimmer in her eye. It takes a lot of strength not to bury your face in your hands, afraid that you’ve now planted an idea that would get the poor boy killed. Or worse.

“Clarisse, please.” She surrenders, albeit reluctantly. 

“Fine,” she says. Still, you’re not entirely convinced.

“Good. Now say it.”

“What?”

“Say you won’t drown him in the lake.” Clarisse laughs, but it dies down when she realizes you don’t plan to join her.

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m really not.”

“I swear not to drown Percy Jackson in the lake,” she agrees through gritted teeth. You don’t say anything about the way her hands tighten around yours as if it physically pained her to say the words.

“See? That wasn’t so hard,” you tell her, ignoring that it did, in fact, seem hard. “Now, what are we gonna do with those nails?” Clarisse stares blankly at your joined hands. Chipped black nail polish alongside your perfectly pristine, perfectly preserved set of nails.

“Why do we need to do anything about my nails?”

“Honey, I painted these like two days ago. What do you even do to get them chipped like this? I mean, are you fighting with the back of your hand? I don’t understand.”

“I have to train, you know?” she says, like it’s meant to explain anything. You know better than to ask her to elaborate.

“Shame. You have very pretty nail beds. You should spend less time fighting puppy dog-eyed middle schoolers so you can actually keep them pretty.”

“You think I have pretty nail beds?” You shrug.

“Among other things.”

“Well, tell me about these other things.”

“Hm, and people think I’m vain.”

“Come on. What other things?”

You take a moment to look at her — to really look at her. To dissect every inch of her face and the features that create the picture of beauty you know and love. There are far too many pretty things to point out, but you find yourself drawn to one in particular.

“You have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.”

“Well, thank you.”

“Shut up. I’m not finished.”

“Of course. Don’t let me stop you.”

“And you have the most gorgeous smile.” Clarisse beams with pride. “Yeah, that one. And it doesn’t even matter if it looks like you’re just about ready to tear someone’s throat out with your teeth. I just like to see you happy. I like hearing you laugh even better.”

And laugh she does. Low but sweet, like honey. She looks like the teenage girl she is, deeply infatuated and with a capacity for love she has only ever shared with you. 

You indulge in the temporary amusement it brings you to think of how horrified Clarisse might be if anyone else were around to hear her giggle. Clarisse La Rue, Daughter of Ares, infamous for waging war on whichever unfortunate soul so much as breathes in her direction — producing a laugh so gentle and beautiful it could give Orpheus and his songs a run for his money. And you might be the happiest girl alive to have been the cause of it.

“You’re sure you’re not Apollo’s kid?”

“Are you calling me a talented poet?”

“I’m calling you a sap,” Clarisse insists with a sour expression, but her voice is saturated with mirth, eyes too bright, and you know she isn’t entirely opposed to your antics. 

“I think the term you’re looking for is romantic.”

“Yeah, right.” She rolls her eyes.

“I know I’m right, but thank you for the confirmation.”

“I know the nail polish fumes are getting to your head,” she mocks. You feign defeat, retreating with an exaggerated sigh.

“Maybe.” Two steps to your left and you’re concealed by a tree, its trunk twice as wide as either of you. You peak your head, locking eyes with Clarisse. “Or all that training is slowing you down. Honestly! If you’re gonna try to insult me, at least try to come up with something original.”

“Oh, you think I’m slow?” Clarisse asks, every word a thinly veiled threat — a challenge, and one you’re willing to accept.

“Unless you want to prove me wrong.” Clarisse lunges at you without warning, almost too fast, but you’re able to gather your senses. The tree had bought you just enough time to keep her whole body from slamming into yours, the force of it undoubtedly capable of launching you both to the ground. 

You dash through the woods as fast as your legs can carry you, your only advantage being that Clarisse must have tired herself out from training. But you know she’s hot on your trail.

From here, you can see the bonfire, flames burning high. You turn, prepared to declare that your victory is just seconds away. You’re tackled to the floor before a word can leave your mouth. 

“Oh, come on! That’s not fair, I was distracted!”

“Distracted by what?” Clarisse laughs hysterically although taking a much more graceful tumble to the floor than you had. She’s covered in fallen leaves and her jeans are brown at the knees where the denim fades.

“The pretty girl chasing me.” Clarisse is beside herself with joy, clutching at her stomach and close to tears, and it takes her a minute to calm herself. When the two of you have settled, she speaks again. Or tries to, that is.

“Oh, you are so—“ You place a kiss on her lips, short and sweet, but enough to leave her speechless. Clarisse turns a violent shade of red and you think she might need another minute to calm herself. You take that time to revel in your victory.

You stand, offering your hand to help her up. 

“Come on, let’s get dinner and you can rest for the game tomorrow. If you’re gonna lead us to victory, you’re gonna need your strength, captain.” She smiles, intertwining her hand with yours.

“You’re gonna be there? Right beside me?”

“La Rue, you’re crazy if you think there’s even a chance I’d ever leave your side.”

•°. *࿐

reader: pls don’t drown percy in the lake

clarisse: ok fine

clarisse: *tries to drown percy*

reader: what did i say about drowning people??

clarisse: …

clarisse: you never said the toilets were off-limits 

also i'm like brand new to the pjo fandom but i’ve been kindly informed of clarisse x silena (and their tragic ending but i turn a blind eye to that so i can preserve my sanity) but when i get there you WILL need to physically restrain me from writing fics about them

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #pjotv x reader #pjo tv adaptation #pjo tv series #clarisse la rue fluff #pining #but they’re already dating #they’re just horrendously down bad for each other and it’s kind of embarrassing #x reader #healthy bit of banter #and trying to convince clarisse to let percy live to see another day #breaking news: summer camp gets awkward when ur gf has beef w the middle schooler #you can’t say she didn’t try to help him ok

[letarasstuff]

Female Rage

(A/N): Initially, I wanted to end this one on a hopeful note. But fighting the war of equality and equity can be pretty hopeless. I tried to be as inclusive as possible, but it's came out in a very binary way. I'm sorry for that and I'm readyto change anything.

Summary: Spencer learns from his daughter how much the patriarchy really sucks.

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: the utter feeling of hopelessness in today's patriarchy, unwanted advances, some men suck

✨Masterlist✨

_________________________

“Hey, what’s with you today?” Spencer asks after hearing his daughter slamming the front door shut.

Her stomping feet bring her towards the living room, where he sits on the couch with a book in his hands, deciding whether or not he’ll include it in his next class. Looking up from the written words, he instantly spots all the emotion running over (Y/N)’s face.

Now, being a father to a 16 year old teenager wasn’t always easy and especially since puberty started it’s becoming increasingly difficult to decipher his child, but Spencer knows right away what kind of emotional cocktail is playing here: Anger, hurt, a pinch of shock and layered under all of this is a certain type of fear. Which one is up to (Y/N) telling him.

“What’s with me today?” She asks him in an incredulous tone. “With me? What about you? Or your entire gender. No, seriously. How can you men go around, trumpeting how you are the stronger, the smarter, the better, the most superior gender? And mean that? Even going as far as to believe that bullshit”

(Y/N) stops, taking in a deep breath. Her father looks at her with waiting eyes, thinking that she now will calmly explain to him what her whole tirade is about. But it seems that this was just the prologue. Because she continues with even more vigour in her voice than she started with.

“For real, what makes you even think that? Stronger than a person, who was assigned female at birth? Just because you are able to build muscles faster than we? Or lose weight faster than us? You know what I call that? An evolutionary problem, because while I got emergency fat to feed off in the case of, I don’t know, an apocalypse, you will freeze to death.

“Our bodies are, for the most part, able to grow an entire functioning human being. We literally take a breakfast bar and build fingers with that energy.

“And for the smarter part? No, absolutely not. So many findings in history have been stolen from women by men, who greedily put their name on it and call it a day of science. Without women, cars probably would still drive around with windshield wipers. Mary Anderson has been laughed at for that idea, despite being one of the first women to hold a patent. And as soon as it expired, suddenly wipers were installed in all cars. Out of nowhere, it stopped being a dumb idea? Just because you weren’t able to attribute it to a woman?!

“But what more to expect from a gender that made protective gear for their testicles in hockey mandatory a hundred years before doing the same thing with a helmet. Who would have thought that brain cells need protection, too? A woman definitely.

I don’t wanna say one gender is better than the other or that there should be a particular fight between any gender at all, but men make it out like that. Damn it, they make women compete with each other to garner their attention. All those “pick me” girls you make fun of? They are the product of internalised misogyny.

“The baseline is wanting to be different from the “typical girl”, right? Well, what is a typical girl, who defined her and why is it so bad to be typical. Who do I want to be different for? Who is mad that I’m dressing up, putting makeup on or having good friendships with other girls?

“Men apparently, because they don’t want a different girl. They don’t want a well dressed, put together woman for the sake of love or so. They want someone easy. Nothing complicated, not someone, who asks them if these pants do look better with that shirt or this blouse. They don’t want to be confronted with problems. That’s why they made up a narrative of how a woman is supposed to be, solely for their own interest.

“And this whole thing eradicates the beautiful experiences you can have as a woman. I don’t talk about these silly and partly belittling things like girl dinner or girl maths. I’m talking about hyping each other up. Bathrooms in a club are fun, because there are a bunch of strangers, talking another stranger up to shoot their shot. Or down from texting their ex. There is unity.

“So where do men get their audacity?!”

Ending her whole rant with this question, (Y/N) stands in front of her father, seething and looking like she is about to overthrow the patriarchy with her own two hands. Right here, right now.

Meanwhile Spencer has started to shrink into the sofa and looks as physically small as possible.

“Uhm, the audacity for what, Sweetheart?” He asks hesitantly, scared for her reaction, but also knowing that this is something his daughter needs to get out of her system.

“TO WALK UP TO ME AND TRYING TO GET SOMETHING ON WITH ME WHILE HE CLEARLY HAS BEEN TRYING TO DESTROY MY WHOLE PRESENTATION! TO FLIRT WITH A MINOR WHILE HE CLEAR AS DAY IS IN HIS MID TO LATE TWENTIES!”

(Y/N) falls down on the sofa face first, next to her father. He rubs her arm up and down in a soothing manner, trying to take the fall after her burst of warranted female rage.

“I apologise. I know, there is nothing I can do against all of what you just said. I also know, like you, that we are talking about a structural problem. It’s nothing that can be solved by a few words. It sucks, knowing that your right to vote is younger than the patent on the first motorised vehicle. It’s not right that you always have to stick up for your rights, while mine will never be threatened.

“Nothing about all of this is fair. That I have to raise you in a way to remind you that any man out there could hurt you. It’s not fair that you have to go tell other men making advances at you about an imaginary boyfriend, because they rather believe in the legitimation of a fake male than your no. That you have to say no more than once, just because someone wants to “make sure you really mean it”.

“I can’t do anything right now that will satisfy you.

“But I can promise you that I will always listen to you. Listen to what makes you mad about this system. I will listen to other people, telling me how the patriarchy failed them. I promise to uplift the women in my life, give credit where it’s due and try to be the best feminist I can be.

But you need to promise me to tell me how I can support you the best in a world that wants to diminish your opinion, your rights and you. Can we do that?”

A short moment of silence gives Spencer the opportunity to think about instances, where he had to endure how (Y/N) being born female made her life more difficult. May it be boys pulling your hair on the playground and the teacher saying that they show love in this abusive way. May it be being called emotional or being told to stop being dramatic while talking about her problems. May it be in simply enjoying stereotypical girly things and being called basic because of that.

“Yes, I promise, I’ll keep you in check. And if you start rambling about how men are superior, I’ll ship you off to the worst retirement home I can find,” (Y/N) says, voice a bit muffled by the couch pillows.

The family continues sitting in silence, the feeling of deep and utter unfairness seeping into their bones.

If you have come this far, please consider a reblog or a comment. Not holding you at gunpoint or anything, but it would be pretty neat.

All works:

@venomsvl @kneelforloki @ssa-uglywhore27 @bibissparkles

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962 @ellyhotchner

General Spencer Reid:

@mayoanddelight (sunny, you seriously need to tell me when you change your url, this list had such an old one in it)

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x female!reader #spencer reid x daughter!reader #spencer reid x teen!reader #spencer reid #x reader #criminal minds #reader insert #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #fanfiction #x teen!reader #x daughter!reader #x female!reader

[p1nkshield]

Welcome esteemed guests to chapter four of my still unnamed fanfic! Please place your suggestions on a name in the comments if you feel so inclined. :)

Bruce massaged the bridge of his nose as he turned on the coms, hopefully one of his family members would have one in right now.

“Team, Constantine will be here in five to visit our guest. Either be in gear and in the bat cave or make yourselves scarce.”

“Understood Father.”

“Why is Constantine coming here?”

“You got it, b!”

Bruce did his best to answer Tim’s question as he surveyed the confiscated items from the self proclaimed guys in white, eyeing the vials of bright green liquid he had yet to finish analyzing.

“The infinite realms sounded familiar to me so I posed some inquiries about it to Constantine. This apparently set off the alarms for him as I attempted to elaborate. Now he’s on his way.”

Bruce made no efforts to hide his exasperation as he headed towards the zeta tube entrance of the bat cave.

Jason sat in a large ornate chair vigilantly as the boy he was tasked to watch slept in the plush guest bed. He looked no older then seven. Who could hurt such a small kid? The thought made Jason sick.

Dick entered the room after knocking gently. “Hey little wing, did you hear Bruce earlier? Constantine is really gunning it over here. We need to either get lost or put on our dominos at least.”

Jason scoffed at the cutesy nickname and made a move to get up until Danny stirred in his sleep. Jason stopped in his tracks.

“Can’t” Jason uttered

“What?” Dick said inquisitively

“Can’t leave him.”

Jason really couldn’t. It was like he was glued to the chair at the bedside of this kid.

Dick looked with concern at his younger brother. “I see… how about this! I will go get your gear and keep an eye on him while you change in the en-suite. That way you aren’t far!”

Jason squinted his eyes at the proposition.

“Jason, I promise Danny is safe here. You don’t have to worry.”

It ended up working out perfectly.

“Hey Disco boy”

“hm?”

“I don’t know what came over me, thanks for not giving me a hard time.”

“Aww you’re welcome mama bird!”

Jason met this teasing with a myriad of expletives that were whisper-yelled at his brother.

“Try not to be a helicopter parent!” Dick laughed as he retreated from the room.

Danny stirred once again as his eyes flitted open. He sat up groggily and surveyed his surroundings. Jason could tell panic was seeping into his veins as he saw his unfamiliar environment.

“Hey, it’s okay”

Danny’s head snapped towards the source of the voice.

“You’re safe” Jason continued “ someone named CW sent you here to heal”

Jason’s soothings seemed to reach him as he relaxed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“Where is he?!? Bats,this could be the catalyst of an inter dimensional war! A war against a people who’s base power set is comparable to Martian Manhunter do you understand?”

“Constantine”

“This literal child usurped Pariah Dark Batman.”

Batman blinked as that name held no weight for him.

“Pariah Dark was a ruler so cruel and powerful that he was banished by his own subjects. The only way for power to change hands is via single combat but no one could do it.”

“Constantine?”

“Until the new king broke him out of his sarcophagus and promptly handed his ass to him! Rumors are that he’s not even full grown yet!”

“Constantine!”

The magic user paused, snapped out of his hasty exposition.

“The boy is still resting and hasn’t woken up yet. In the letter we received we were told that this is the safest place for him to recover. I’m sure that whoever is in charge is doing everything they can to keep the child safe.”

Just as Batman was about to continue to explain how he managed to get in this situation Jason exited the elevator to the bat cave.

“Yes I promise he’s nice. No, he dresses like a bat to scare bad guys.”

Danny who was holding tightly to Jason’s continued to rattle out questions.

“Who is that?” Danny asked as he pointed towards Constantine who looked thoroughly confused.

“This tiny tyke is the Ghost King? Oh come on you’re pulling my leg or something spooks.”

Constantine then addressed the boy

“You defeated Pariah Dark single handedly?”

Danny replied to his questioning with a crinkled look of confusion.

“… Ghost King? …Pariah Dark?”

Realization dawned on Constantine.

“Was he reduced to his core?”

Jason replied with another question.

“Is that why he looked like a fancy rock?”

A beat of silence filled the room.

“I can’t help you with this. Let me know when he remembers enough for me to grovel for the sake of this dimension.”

Constantine made his way towards the zeta tube and swiftly left.

Danny blinked a few times, processing the strange man and his strange questions before letting go of Jason’s hand.

“Where are you headed kid?”

“I’m thirsty.”

“There’s not much in terms of refreshments down here how about we- hey woah don’t drink that!”

It was far too late Danny had phased his hand through the container holding several large ampules of a glowing green liquid. He snapped off the top at the scored break point and began to drink it.

“Danny! Danny spit that out right now!” Jason hurriedly approached.

“Why? It’s good! See?”

Before Jason could protest Danny offered some of his drink to Jason.

Despite his best efforts he smelled some of the unidentified liquid. It smelled … really good. Before he himself or Bruce could stop him, he took a small sip. It was sweet, citrusy and effervescent. He took another sip before finishing the whole thing. It lessened a headache he forgot he had.

“Heeeey! That was mine!”

Jason regarded the boy who looked at him with intense betrayal.

He reached into the containment unit and uncorked another ampule with some effort and handed it to him absently, still confused as to what just happened.

This is the second time this week Bruce has been genuinely shocked by something. He did not like this feeling at all. He looked forlornly at his samples that had just been raided like a fridge. He let out a long sigh.

@boo-ghosties @skulld3mort-1fan @addie-lover-of-stories @isaactheautobot @krzys2000 @ectoradiation @worthlesswall @mewzaque @mnemovoid @phantom-dc @justwannabecat @kitty-page @cutelittlebeanie @meira-3919 @amyheart19 @scarlette-foxx @thegatorsgoose @farmercale

#dc x dp fic #dc x dp #fanfic #Bruce is just looking at the ampules he made like :( #At the Core fic

[thegnomelord]

speaking of a cod apocalypse (i think actually idk i just skimmed over my tl) thoughts on the boys becoming some sort of fucked up mutated creatures?

like they're soldiers, right? and assuming the government sends them out to deal with whatever apocalyptic shit there is, surely one of them makes a stupid mistake that'll cost them their lives. fast forward to them succumbing to whatever radioactive shit decided to live in their bodies, and they're dead but alive? and like... just grotesque things. they're still them, just more brutal and monstrous. maybe their skin is melting off, maybe they're growing another limb or two, maybe they have teeth growing on their head.

anyways, thoughts on this kind of genre???? :))))

(i think itd be cool if like.... some of them merged together, just a mass of limbs and skin :33)

Okay, consider: Horizon zero dawn world, full of killer machines and tribes n shit, combined with the virus from the Prototype (that and darksiders are my fav games of all time tbh) also body horror, specifically the blend of machine and flesh bh, is my favorite shit :Dd this is a rough idea

So like as killer machines were sweeping across the planet, devouring everything in sight and replicating, a disease was created that, it was hoped, would be able to infect and eat away at the metal. But it fails, the virus ends up infecting the soldiers that are fighting against the machines and just, combining the human and machine.

The world eventually goes so far to shit that everything on the planet dies. The war machines become deactivated and some of the machine/human mutants are sealed away in bunkers to be used as experiments.

And just like, the 141 becoming a blend of steel and flesh in the grotesque approximation of what they used to be, able to strip away parts of other machines and graft them to their own forms.

Gaz was the first, fighting on the front lines back when he had foolishly believed the killer robots could be defeated. He had gotten separated when he got infected, the fear secondary only to the pain as his flesh literally melted into the corruptors, bone and muscle becoming tangled in gears and wires until all he could feel were his numerous stilt like legs now scrambled to gain purchase on the blood soaked ground . Turned into some weird metal scorpion bellow the waist, weaponry weighing on his back and coolant full wires snaking across his body, Kyle had passed out from the pain, his body further changing in his slumber to grow skin and eyes over the raw metal.

He woke up deep underground in a bunker, turned into a science experiment.

Price was next. He was a soldier turned scientist, working on a subfunction of the teraforming AI that would work to clear the world of the virus that had unleashed. He was the soft voice of comfort Kyle would listen to when they pricked and prodded him, the person Kyle spilled his heart out time and time again.

It came as little surprise when Price became infected. He had started to feel lethargic and sick for the few days, all of it going unnoticed as no one knew how the virus affected humans. That was until he came in contact with a Plowhorn, that changed him into a bulwark of flesh and metal, a living tank with a heavy crest of horns sitting on his head and thick metal plates to protect him.

Price and Kyle kept each other from going insane, figuring out the worst part of the virus — they had become immortal like the machines, but still felt pain like people, pain muddling their brains when pistons and gears would grind against flesh again and again until it regrew in a different way.

They were finally freed when the people experimenting on them died and the AI released the locks of the doors. They emerged hell knows how many years later, taking the first steps into a reborn world that was still crying in it's cradle.

Soap was amongst the first humans to emerge from the mechanical cradle, thrust into a wild and untamed world full of strange machines, with no tools but his hands. While out trying to scavange some of the metal from downed glinthawks he was attacked by Scrappers, ending up infected with the virus that had been slumbering in the earth. Soap became like the sphinx, glinthawk wings attaching to his back with wires, talons merging with skin and pushing out bone, the body of the scraper combining with his own until he was unable to stand on two legs, forced to crawl on all fours and screech in pain through distorted vocal chords until Price and Gaz found him. They took care of him until he was used to his body enough to soar through the air about as well as he could run across the earth.

Simon was the last, born to a tribe that valued strength and worshipped the machines above all. And Simon is the only one who's convergence to steel has any semblence of thought or preparation. He had spent years hunting Fireclaws, tearing off the intact pieces and pistons after every hunt until the shamans of his tribe deemed him ready to become one of the metal gods. The change was slow and painful, bones melting and hardening around new metal, body getting bigger and flesh stretching to fit the new frame, heavy claws weighing on his muscular arms until Simon had become Ghost.

It wasn't what he expected. What he had done in an attempt to fit in amongst his kin served to further push him away as his tribe worshipped him as one of the machine gods, erasing his name as Simon. It was a relief when he met the others, finding comfort in their disfigured and grotesque bodies that looked so similar like his own.

And then you meet them.

Maybe you're a foolish mercenary that stumbled too far into the wild, maybe you're one of the subfunctions of the original teraforming AI that gained sentience. Either way, you didn't fear them, you tried to talk to them, to get to know them even when every societal law of your tribe deemed them as monsters and demons.

And on one random evening, when they had all settled into a rough cuddle pile, scarred flesh over sharp metal creating enough of a cushion for you to sleep in the middle of them all — safe and warm... It occured to them: you are nice, you are kind, and they want to to stay by their side.

#gnome correspondence #trinckets of the hoard #cod mw2 #horizon zero dawn #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick x reader #captain john price x reader

[sinkdroid]

Serial gearposting but i rlly love it when people draw Ramlethal as being kind of scruffy and rugged considering she was made to fight and has been fighting for her whole life as of Xrd

anyway been thinking about guilty gear and themes of nature vs nurture because almost every character who is a gear or a valentine is based on that theme, especially Ram

There's beauty in the juxtaposition of elements present in Ramlethal's design- The military-style coat and hat contrasted with the exposed skin and bandages- Any immediate impression of Ram can tell that she's a soldier who doesn't belong to any army.

i always got the impression that Ram's whole design was meant to be just that, a feral child made by a disaffected god as a weapon. Thats why she wears military-style clothing, but with teeth- it's literally a part of her, just like how she was made to fight and wage war

having those 2 giant swords that she can control with her mind just drives home how inextricably connected she is to her power as a valentine.

independant Gears and other artificial life forms in guilty gear are so fascinating bc their designs alone always speak volumes abt where they came from and what their intended purpose would be, as artificial beings

i love ram so much i wish she had more screentime in strive

#guilty gear ramlethal #ramlethal valentine #ggst #guilty gear strive #guilty gear

[badbatch-badfics]

Padawan (TBB x Male Reader) Part 1

Part 2

Characters: The Bad Batch - Crosshair. Not much of Wrecker, mainly just meeting them.

Relationship: All platonic

POV: Mixture between 2nd (you/yours) and 3rd (he/him)

Pronouns: He/him, but referred to as they/them when identity is unknown to the Batch

Species: Unspecified, should be pretty neutral

Content: Angst?? Panic?? Introductions?? Beginning of found family??

Warnings: Panic attacks, minor injury description, thinking about your death (non-suicide), anything that would be in TBB normally. Possibly some lore inaccuracies. Cringe

Word count: 4,777

Notes: If you’re willing, please let me know if you think 2nd person or 3rd person POV is better, or if the combo is readable.

You balanced yourself on the beam, steadily walking across with eyes darting back and forth for anything that seemed of use.  Or, at least, a new pathway, or bridge, or anything that could lead you somewhere new, where there was the possibility of supplies.  Or food, or some type of communication device, or, quite literally, anything.  You weren’t picky, given the circumstances- couldn’t afford to be.  But in truth, there was little to no chance of finding anything new.  You’d scavenged through the ship countless times, and for the past…however long, there’d been nothing new.  You hadn’t missed anything from the previous ventures, no small creature had drug in anything from outside or from a part with limited access, nothing fell to reveal a hidden treasure of some sort.  Absolutely nothing.  But yet, each day you once again went out with a glimmer of hope- or denial- that there would be something.  Or maybe it was just a feeble attempt to focus your mind away from the events.  Not that it worked.

As the beam came across a body of water, you peered down to the pool, loathing at what was reflecting back- raggy, dirty, and bloody.  Kriffing Hell, I could be mistaken for a Tusken Raider with this shit-job of a covering.  Your normal Padawan robes, as well as ones from your Master, had been torn into several chunks, and wrapped around different limbs, as well as pieces of fabric from any corpses you’d stumble upon.  Layered on top of those was a poncho-cloak, barely holding on by a thread.  An oxygen mask hung limply around your neck, and was covered with a fine coating of dirt and grime, with splattered blood on top.  Bandages, cloth, and even animal pelts wound loosely around your head, leaving only small holes and strips for the mouth, nose, and eyes.  Your waist was adorned with a make-shift gear belt, holding a multitude of different bones- sharpened and shaped to become tools and methods of protection.  Your Lightsaber bumped lightly with each step, an eternal reminder to what happened- and as many bad thoughts as it brought, it would be an absolutely idiotic move to ditch the weapon.  Not wanting to look any longer, you pulled back your head and took a deep breath, continuing on.

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

Rex led the squad of modified clones through the dirty, deserted and desolate hallways, shining a light so nobody fell to their demise.  The group talked about the war, inhibitor chips, and the like until they came across a large canyon, so to speak.  Rex, Omega, Tech, Hunter, and Echo all shimmied their way across, leaving Wrecker to go last.  “You can do it!  Just keep your eyes on the table,” Omega yelled encouragingly.  With a few grunts and a shake of his head, Wrecker began climbing the cable upside down.  Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, it couldn’t hold his weight, plummeting him down to the murky water.

The collective panic from all six clones shot out an incredibly large Force ‘wave’ to the padawan, of which felt as though he was being hit by a speeder bike head-on and then ricocheted into a Bantha.  The shock of realizing that someone- scratch that, multiple someones- were here, on the ship with him, at this exact moment was more than enough to cause (Y/N) to stumble backwards from where he was standing and trip over some debris, falling flat on his ass.  Once (Y/N) could gather that he and the strangers had a decent amount of space in between them, his breathing calmed- but not enough to be normal.

(Y/N) carefully got up, watching his foot placement, before turning to where he had been sleeping and recouping for the past few months.  His legs felt both stiff and shaky, his vision was blurry, and his breathing was ragged.  Once (Y/N) was finally in the small space that contained his very few belongings, he fell to the floor, backed into the wall, and curled up into a tiny, and rather pathetic, ball.  People were here.  (Y/N) didn’t know if they were good, or bad- or if they weren't much of either.  Didn’t know their motives, didn’t know anything.  When (Y/N) had prayed to the Force to find new things, this is not what he meant.  At all.

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

Soon enough, and with several general or head-based injuries, all four men had their inhibitor chips removed.  Omega and Hunter were walking around, exploring this and that and whatnot.  Mainly because Omega would have done so anyway, but she most definitely needs supervision on the death-trap that is so humbly called a ship.  Unfortunately for you, the pair was getting awfully close to his “hide-out.”  Even worse, it seemed Hunter was aware of that as well.

“Omega…I think there’s someone here with us.  Stay close,” he whispered, pulling out his blaster.  Your breathing grew faster and more shaggy, and your vision clouded.  What could I do?  They’re in front of the only exit, and I haven't fought a person, or even touched my lightsaber in Force knows how long!  Considering the only way out, other than direct confrontation, seemed to be a 100+ foot drop- the choice was more or less clear.  You shakily stood up, grabbed the lightsaber which had been doing nothing else than collecting dust (and bad memories), and began to sprint as fast as possible, shoulder aimed at the door.  Dank Farrik, please- don’t let me die like this.

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

Hunter jumped back, quickly grabbing Omega’s arm and pulling her out of the way with him.  And lucky he did, otherwise she may have been crushed by the metal plate that went flying as the cloaked figure stumbled and bolted.  Immediately, Hunter reached up to his comm and reported, “There’s somebody else on the ship!  His motive is unclear- just blasted through a door and ran- looks like he’s going for an escape.”

On the other end, Wrecker almost jumped out of his skin in excitement- “Finally!  Some action!”  Tech couldn’t help but roll his eyes at Wrecker’s interest in beating someone to hell and back.  After some more information was passed through, Wrecker and Tech had an approximate idea of where they needed to head in order to intercept the stowaway.  Since Hunter had said that the mystery person appeared to be running away, stealth was not an objective for the pair- running through loudly was acceptable.

(Y/N) was solely focused on getting out- not where the others could be.  Which was a terrible mistake- if you’re running away from somebody, it’d generally be wise to know where they are.  Tech could guess as much, and used it to his advantage.  Although he hadn’t gotten a full map of the ship, based on Hunter’s location report, the mystery person’s motive, and the ship being heavily damaged, he could make a reasonable estimate as to where the person would be.

To no one’s surprise, Tech was absolutely correct.  After instructing Wrecker where to go, they had each blocked the end of a hallway.  Wrecker had cut in front and faced the mystery person head on, grinning as cracking his neck, while Tech had stealthily followed from a ways behind.  By the time Tech caught up, the mystery person had already slammed to a stop and immediately turned around to exit the other end, but to no avail.

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

You ran as fast as you could, and you really did try paying attention to your surroundings, but it was all utterly useless.  The intruders had pinned you.  One giant guy to the front, and one smart guy to the back.  Brains and brawn.  Your heart beat far too fast, feeling the thump thump in your head, being far too hot, and your vision was rapidly becoming smaller and more tunneled.

It didn’t help when the big guy spoke, and you realized they were clones.  Odd clones, granted, but clones, who, as far as you knew, executed Order 66, executed your Master, friends, your entire sense of familiarity and comfort.

You weren’t prepared for this- you hadn’t trained in months, or even used your lightsaber.  There was no means of escape, considering the second either of them saw you reach for a weapon, it would be over.  Running would do you no good, and if they had followed Order 66, talking wouldn’t do any good either.  It seemed you’d join the other jedi in whatever afterlife awaited.

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

The figure fell flat on their ass and scrambled half-way backwards and half-way to the nearest wall after hearing Wrecker’s voice- they were shaking, sweat drenching their clothes all the way through, and, all in all, resembling a caged animal who knew it was done for.  A loud echo ran out as the figure roughly contacted the metal wall, and pulled their legs up, semi-resembling the fetal position, as their hands were still on the ground.

Wrecker and Tech slowly approached the figure, blasters balanced on their arms.  Both took notice of the shaky and rapid breathing, the occasional twitching, and how the figure seemed to be ever-so-slightly rocking.  This person was a very good actor, or nothing more than someone scared, who was in the very wrong place at the wrong time.  They both assumed the latter.

As Tech walked forward, he used his scanner to find the general age and species of the subject, brows furrowing as results came forward.  The figure was somewhere in between 15 and 18, was (chosen species), and, as more data was collected, Tech discovered that the figure was a Jedi.  Or, at the very least, someone with a high midichlorian count.  He stopped walking, lowered his blaster- not a lot, but just enough, and gestured to Wrecker to copy.  Wrecker made a grunt in confusion, not understanding.  Tech sighed and replied, “I do not believe they intend to harm us.  If my data is correct, they are a teenager, and most likely a padawan.  And it would seem they do not wish to engage through a fight, anyway.  Put your weapons down.”

(Y/N)’s head darted back and forth between the two, confused- was he safe?  They were clones- were they not going to execute Order 66, or at the very least, kill him as a simple intruder?  Just then, a third clone appeared- one with half the helmet white, the other black, with a few more details and some large red stripes.  He had a vibro-knife in one hand, extended outward with a curve, and his other hand, holding a blaster, rested on top of it.  “Hunter, I do not think they are a threat- at least, at this moment.  There has been no attempt to harm us as of yet, and they appear to be force sensitive, which would most certainly warrant an attempt to flee from a group of clones,” Tech informed.  (Y/N) slowly reached his hand towards the lightsaber on his makeshift belt, but didn’t quite grab it- not yet.  Hunter slowly put his weapons away and set down his helmet, a small hiss ringing out when he took it off.

He crouched just enough to seem smaller and slightly less intimidating, without looking like he was getting ready to spring up.  He extended his hands, walking slowly towards (Y/N).  “We’re not here to hurt you- we're not like the other clones– we’ve had our inhibitor chips removed.  You’re safe,” he spoke slowly and clearly.  Tech jumped in, “The inhibitor chips are what programmed the regs– the other clones– to execute Order 66.  So we don’t want to hurt you.”  Wrecker grunted something in agreement.

“Now, we have a functioning ship with us, and we can get you out of here- somewhere safe, or at least, more safe than here, okay?  We have food, water, medical care, and we have a place to stay where the Empire won’t bother us.  Let us help you.”  By the time Hunter had finished his little speech, he was only a few feet away from (Y/N), crouching down, now eye-level with him.  (Y/N)’s hand slowly came away from his saber.  This felt safe- he could sense it, more or less.  There wasn’t actually any danger, and the clone, who (Y/N) assumed was Hnuter, felt safe and honest– reminding him of the warmth and comfort the Jedi Temple, his fellow Padawans, his Master, all brought him.

(Y/N) tried to say something, but his voice caught and cracked horribly- a mixture of the panic, and having not talked to anyone in months.  He felt his eyes water behind the terribly dirty rags, which stung more than it should have.  “Let's start by getting those rags off you, okay?  Tech, bring over some bacta-spray and clean bandages,” Hunter instructed.  Tech did as he was told, fishing out some spray and bandages from one of his several pouches that lined his waist.  

Tech passed the supplies to Hunter, who indicated for him and Wrecker to go report to the rest what was happening.  He directed his attention back to (Y/N), calmly asking, “I’m gonna take off your face wrappings, alright?”  (Y/N) mumbling what Hunter assumed was an ‘okay,’ and felt his body go heavy and almost limp.  Hunter reached up, tenderly brushing against the Padawan’s face, swiftly untying the bounds of cloth.  He quickly used his other hand to bring the rest of it down, now draped around (Y/N)’s neck.  His face was dirty, caked in dirt, grime, and what appeared to be blood.  The mixture of paste, so to speak, was cracked and chipping, looking like a desert’s mud-crack.

Whether or not he meant to, Hunter grimaced at the sorry state of the Padawan.  He took his gloved hands to try and brush and scrape off the majority of the paste off, which was primarily successful.  After the layer of muck was removed, Hunter found one long gash, following the curvature of (Y/N)’s jawline, from just below the eye to just above his mouth.  It was inflamed and oozing, and was most certainly going to need stitches.  He held up the bacta-spray, and lightly spritzed it onto the wound.  A sharp hiss sounded out from (Y/N), who was now squinting his eyes.  Hunter mumbled some sort of apology before taking out the bandage and delicately, yet firmly at the same time, placed it on the gash.

“Are there any more major injuries we should worry about?  We can take care of the smaller ones on the ship, but still.  Better safe than sorry.”  (Y/N) shook his head no.  Hunter slowly stood up, and extended a hand, but (Y/N) just seemed to stare at it.  Slowly, though, the Padawan extended his own hand out, flinching and hesitating once his arm was half-way extended.  After a few seconds, though, he fully reached out and tightly grabbed the man’s hand.  Using the wall behind him, (Y/N) pushed himself up, legs shaky.  As soon as he was steady, (Y/N) ripped his hand away, bringing it close and pinning it tightly against his own chest.

Hunter commed Tech, instructing him to get everyone on-board the Marauder, and to try and use any spare pieces of clothing or blanket to form some type of clean cover that would fit the Padawan.  After what seemed to last forever, Hunter broke the silence- “So, what's' your name, kid?”

“(Y/N)...” he mumbled, quiet enough that only Hunter’s enhanced ears could make it out clearly.  The pair continued their walk through the broken up ship, eventually coming up to the ramp that led out to the Marauder.  (Y/N) brought his arm to his eyes, squinting at the sun- being far too bright, seeing as he hadn’t gone out of the ship in Maker knows how long.  Hunter took notice and briefly stopped, turning his head back to the teenager.

“You alright?  I’m sure I have something if you want to block out the sun for the walk,” he gently offered.  (Y/N) silently shook his head no, while slowly taking his arm down, bringing it back down to his chest, head and eyes solidly trained on the ground.  Hunter stared for a few seconds more, just to be sure, before continuing on towards the Marauder.

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

Your head was woozy, your heart beating out of your chest, and you were simultaneously shaking, yet felt numb.  All in all, it felt terrible.  And perhaps even worse, you knew there was no real reason to feel this way.  You were finally safe.  And there was no possible way that the clones would turn and execute you.  They would have done so already, without a doubt!  Why would anyone go against direct orders, and pure convenience, just to make someone suffer more?  That would be beyond inadequate. And it just made you feel terrible for not trusting them, or at the very least, for being suspicious of them.  And now your head hurt more than before.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, but was no more than a five minute walk, the pair came up on the Havoc Marauder, in all its battle worn glory.  Echo was leaning on the frame to the entry ramp, draping a clean, albeit worn and torn, wool poncho over his scomp.  From the time Echo had spent with them, he gathered that the Jedi seemed to really like their ponchos.

As you and Hunter finally came up to the ramp, you froze.  Your heart got significantly louder, palms sweater, which, by the way, was never pleasant under the dirty rags, and your eyes began darting around.  There was only one way out, it seemed.  If the group did have ill intent, you’d be done for as soon as you set a single toe in the ship.  That was not a comforting thought.  Hunter could hear your heartbeat and smell your sweat (or rather, the reaction it has with your skin) from a mile away.

Alerted by this change in demeanor, he turned back to look at you- who was completely frozen stiff, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape and pulled downwards.  He may have been prepared for any mission the Republic gave him, but there certainly wasn’t any briefing on traumatized teenagers- let alone force sensitive teens.  Kriff, he barely knew how to socialize with the Regs, and it was a miracle he could bond as much as he did with Omega.

Echo, even with his lack of enhanced senses, could easily see Hunter’s predicament.  “How about you get the rest of the squad together, keep it calm for the kid.  I’ll go take care of this.”  Hunter silently nodded in thanks, brushing past his brother to head inside and start giving orders.  That he was good at, no matter the topic.

Echo slowly, but not too slowly, as that would seem like a predator circling its prey, walked down the ramp and stood just in arm’s reach of the Padawan.  You seemed to stare at each other for an eternity before he slowly handed you the poncho.  “Here… seems you Jedi like ponchos, and we had one lying about.  Hope it works.  Got some more fabrics up on the ship, if you need any.  And better med-kits, stuff to find infections or fevers.  In case.”  He spoke both in a calm and precise manner, and continued on, “Name’s Echo, by the way.  Yours?  If you don’t mind, anyway.”

You didn’t respond for a few more seconds, taking it all in.  Finally, you mustered up a small response, “(Y/N)... and thank you.”  Echo smiled lightly, extending the poncho out a  bit further.  Quickly, you threw off the old poncho, which wouldn't have lasted another week, and put on the fresh new one.  “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up, at least around the arms and face, yeah?  We’ll be on another planet soon, and then you can get some proper fitting clothes.”

Echo turned and walked back up the ramp, making sure he could hear your footsteps following him.  A few steps after you had gotten in, and the ramp seemed to slam shut.  Realstickly, it was probably shutting for a while, but you hadn’t noticed it until it registered that there was no way out now.  And everything seemed so tight.  Sure, you had just been in a wrecked ship for Maker knows how long, but it was a big one.  Now, you were stuck on a much smaller ship, with however many clones.  Before the claustrophobia and feeling of complete despair could kick in, a small blond girl tugged at your burnt, calloused, and wrapped up hands, attempting to pull you somewhere.  Of course, given your larger mass, as well as training, you didn’t budge, not one bit.  You stared down at the young girl, eyes wide, yet blank.  To say it disturbed her would be an understatement.

“Omega!  I’m Omega, and this is Lula- Wrecker’s tooka doll!” she exclaimed, bringing your attention to a large stuffed…rabbit?  Or… loth cat?  It was hard to say.  It had a black body, with red sock paws, similar to the red tips on its ears.  The tooka doll sported some pattern of white, clearly resembling a face, with two red dots for eyes.  Distracted by the stuffed creature, she could successfully pull you, where she then disposed of you in someone's bunk.  She all but slammed Lula into your chest before running off, what, or who she was looking for, a complete mystery.

She came back with a collection of blankets, pillows, and snacks, and most certainly more than she could carry. Immediately, Omega got to work, bundling you like a baby in a blizzard.  You were too stunned to do anything, really.  What could you do, anyway?  After about two or so minutes of her layering, she paused, and frowned.  “How are you going to eat if your hands and arms are covered! Agh!”

She quickly began undoing her work, until your arms could be brought out, and then resumed the stacking of blankets.  All you could do was blink repeatedly, ever confused.  After another five or so minutes, she smiled triumphantly at her work.  “Perfect!  Here, have some mantell mix!” she said as she shoved a fist full of some clunky substance into your palm.  Looking down at it, mouth watering, you slowly reached down and plucked one of the misshapen balls, and popped it into your mouth.  And by the Maker, was it delicious.  Your eyes widened, and without a second thought, your hand flew to your mouth, sending the entire pile of mantell mix down your throat.  After eating random rodents, insects, and food that was quite possibly expired from the ship, this mantell mix was a blessing to your senses.

As you continued chewing and swallowing the treat, you leaned back against the hard wall of the ship, a quiet, content sigh escaping.  While it certainly wasn’t the most comfortable, it was ten thousand times better than anywhere you had slept on the Venator.  Lula was still resting across your chest, and Omega smiled proudly at your comfort before running off again.  Although it was muffled, you could hear her talking to one of the clones, before grabbing something and running back towards you.

“I was training with Nala Se and the medical equipment at the Kaminoan facilities, so I can fix you up!  Now, where does it hurt the most?”  She was a bit too excited about her ‘patient’ needing help, you thought.  It was cute, though.  The younglings and other Padawan at the Jedi Temple were like that, too– always eager to be the first to help, even in situations where most would never be joyous.  You supposed there wouldn’t be any harm in humoring the girl, even if she was, by all means, a possible threat, with everyone else on the ship.  I mean, if they did plan to harm or kill you, there’d be no chance of survival, so you might as well play along with the little girl.  Either your last moments wouldn’t be too bad, or you’d start bonding with your saviors.  Either version was a win, in one way or another.

Cocking one eyebrow, you raised a question– “How are you supposed to take care of me if I can’t move under all these layers?  That seems rather counter-productive, no?”  Her face molded into one of thought and consideration, nodding her head in agreement.  Before you could register her next move, she essentially lunged, quickly stripping you of the layers for the second time within the hour.  Now, the blankets all strewn around you resembled a porg’s nest, without the sticks and twigs, anyway.  Omega yanked your arm forward, a tad too eager, considering you should always be gentle with your patients.  Your eyes squinted, brows furrowed in a smidge of pain- Omega immediately noticed, and gave you a sheepish smile before apologizing and bringing it towards her more gently.

She carefully wrapped the bandages off of your arm, eyes widening at the…state of it.  Burn spots, blisters, scratches, bruises, and more littered the entirety of it, looking like it came out of a horror holo-film.  You stared at it rather intensely.  You had no clue it was this bad.  I mean, it hurt, obviously- you were in a crashed ship and had no proper care for however long.  Of course it was going to hurt.  But seeing it, that was still a shock.

“Umm… I should probably get Tech.  I’m not this good, I don’t think…” Omega whispered, frowning.  She scurried off, but you just kept staring.  How could you have let it get this bad?  Was all the training useless?  Or was it you?

Tech, the one with goggles and a plethora of gear, came over, holding what Omega had given him, and more.  His armor was still on, but the helmet had been discarded.  He bent down on one knee, and scanned over your body, checking for any and all injuries.  And, oh boy, did he have his work cut out for him.  Tech carefully took your arm in his gloved hands, and stared for a little bit before spraying a lot of bacta on.  You lurched forward, bringing your other hand to your side, in a feeble attempt to focus the pain elsewhere.  Your brows scrunched, and cheeks pulled down, biting your tongue in every attempt to not bother him any more.

“Let me know when it stops stinging.  Most of the bacteria should be gone, then.  We’ll still clean it out routinely, as they’ve been untreated for so long,” he spoke precisely.  After what felt like eternity, he was finally finished applying the spray.  “Hold your arm out.  Make it as level and steady as you can,” Tech instructed.  Fingertips barely brushing your skin, he brought the clean cloth around, wrap after wrap, from your palm to your elbow.  He took some smaller bandages and wrapped them around each of your fingers, leaving your entire arm covered.

You lifted up your other arm, and you both repeated the process.  Bacta, wrap, done.  He gestured at your legs, silently asking to both take off your shoes and life up your pants, to at least the knee.  There was a much larger and deeper gash on your left shin, courtesy of a falling metal plate as you finally managed to get some sleep.  “That…will need stitches.  Wait here.”  Not like you were going anywhere.

After what felt like hours upon hours, everything that was physically wrong with you had been fixed- or, at the very least, temporarily fixed.  Obviously, there weren't the best medical supplies on a smaller ship that had long left the army, and thus left behind the blessing that was gift-wrapped med-kits.  Finally, he gave you some type of liquid- not a lot, just a shot.  He could see the quizzical look on your face, and quickly explained– “It’ll help you go to sleep, for quite a while, and it’ll help reduce the pain.  By the time you wake up, we should be at Orl Mantell, where we’ve been staying.  Or, at least, close to it.”

In a fraction of a heartbeat, you downed the small glass and handed it back to Tech.  He ran one more scan on you, just to be sure, before getting up and heading to the cock-pit with his brothers and little older sister.  Your heart slowed, and your eyelids grew heavy.  That serum worked fast.  Half involuntarily, you fell face first onto the bed and drifted into the best sleep you’d had in countless rotations.

#tbb x male reader #the bad Batch x male reader #tbb x platonic reader #the bad batch x platonic reader #tbb x platonic male reader #tbb x male platonic reader #the bad batch x platonic male reader #the bad batch x male platonic reader #the bad batch #tbb #the bad batch fic #tbb fic #the bad batch x reader #tbb x reader #star wars x reader #star wars x platonic reader #star wars x male reader #star wars x platonic male reader #star wars x male platonic reader #hunter tbb x reader #tech tbb x reader #wrecker tbb x reader #echo tbb x reader #omega tbb x reader #tbb x padawan reader #tbb x male padawan reader #the bad batch x padawan reader #the bad batch x male padawan reader

[dilfspitdrinker]

Let The Light In | Joel Miller x f!reader

Description: You’ve been babysitting Joel Miller’s daughter all summer. No matter now much you try to deny it, you know you’re into him. But it’s just a little crush that you thought could never be reciprocated, until one fateful phone call. The shift between you two is irresistible, and you’re in for more than you ever anticipated. A/N: holy shit guys, sorry for the fucking hiatus?? Hopefully the smut in this chapter will make up for it. ITS HAPPENING! EVERYBODY STAY CALM! STAY FUCKING CALM! no guys seriously relax I'm already nervous don't make it a big deal shut up stop laughing. I've been mad busy with lyfe and college lately and had a hard time with this chapter, constantly having to remind myself that I do this FOR FUN and it literally does not matter if it's bad!!! BUT IM LOSING THE IDGAF WAR!!!! anyways enjoy and ily for reading

Warnings/tags: MDNI, oral + fingering (f receiving) (he give me brain like nyu), Joel is a talker, reader likes chocolate, age gap (reader is like 21 and Joel is in late 30s), (no his age doesn't canonically line up with what it should be since Sarah is like 12 here but idgaf)

Masterlist

Chapter 7

Once you woke, it took only a moment for you to recognize Joel’s bed, and your thoughts immediately began racing. You hadn’t slept together, had you? There was no way you’d had enough drinks to have forgotten if that happened, right? A quick flip of the covers revealed you were still in your dress. Guessing that meant no. He wasn’t in bed with you, didn’t look like he’d even been there, the covers on the other side looked quite undisturbed. Confused, you supposed he might’ve woken up before you and made just that side of the bed. Weird, but what other explanation was there?

You quietly followed the same routine as the last time you woke up in Joel’s bed, rushing to the bathroom to check yourself. Even after fixing your hair and dress that had gone askew, the thought of going out there in your little outfit from last night made you cringe. You thought briefly about going back to his room and stealing some of his clothes, just to avoid walking into the kitchen looking like you’d passed out after clubbing or something. After how great your date went, you prayed you hadn’t ruined it by saying or doing anything mortifyingly embarrassing, since you apparently didn’t even remember getting into bed.

You steeled yourself and padded down the hall. Peering around the corner into the kitchen, your voice came out small, “Joel?”

He was sitting at the table, dressed casually, a mug of steaming coffee in hand. A smile spread over his face at the sight of you, “Mornin’ darlin’. You sleep alright?”

“Yeah,” you gingerly sat across from him.

He could see the question in your eyes, and answered it to save you the embarrassment, “I slept on the couch.”

With that revelation, you quickly switched gears. Your tone was devoid of humor, “Are you kidding me?”

He gave you a quizzical look.

“You let me sleep in your bed while you slept on the couch again?”

He laughed you off, but you wouldn’t let him get away with it.

“I’m serious,” you crossed your arms, “Doesn’t matter if I’m here, it’s your own house, you’re sleeping in your own bed.”

“Yes ma’am,” he grinned, taking another sip from his mug.

You glared at him, but the hardness in your face dissolved as soon as he set a cup of freshly brewed coffee in front of you. Despite your outrage at the sleeping situation, Joel’s presence still managed to put you at ease. You’d even forgotten about why the dress thing made you nervous, he was probably enjoying the view.

“What time is it?” you asked between sips. You hadn’t registered the hour on the clock when you’d woken up in your alarmed state.

“Early,” he responded.

You hummed, soothing your mild grogginess with the coffee. You wished you’d slept in just a little more. You wished you’d slept in with Joel. Not ready to back down just yet, you asked sharply, “And how did you sleep?”

He was amused by your stubbornness, “You’re not lettin’ that go, are you?”

“Never.” 

He sighed, “Just didn’t wanna get all up in your business, darlin’.”

You rolled your eyes, “Oh please, you can get all up in my business anytime you want.”

He chuckled, “I’ll keep that in mind from now on.”

You two sat together, finishing off your coffees. Sunlight poured in through the windows, and you silently watched specks of dust float around him like a halo. His eyes still looked heavy with sleep, blinking slowly. More often than not, he would come home fighting exhaustion as he thanked you for watching Sarah. There were a few instances where he paid you a day late, accompanied with a text apologizing profusely for forgetting. You’d always assured him that it was fine, imagining how he must’ve passed out the second his head hit the pillow. In the quiet morning light, you wanted to pull him into bed, cradle his face, soothe the lines etched into his skin. You thought you’d do anything to relieve his stress.

He stood to collect your empty mugs, his broad frame towering over you.

Yes, anything.

You became newly aware of your dress, tugging the hem down a bit. While his back was to you, you cleared your throat, “Sorry for crashing here again.”

“How long ‘fore you learn…” he sighed to himself. He turned and crossed his arms, unexpectedly stern, “Will you quit talkin’ like you’re an inconvenience?”

The hand that fiddled with your dress stilled. You began fumbling through a sort of confession, “Sorry, I just, I don’t want you to think I’m… I don’t know…” You trailed off, unsure of exactly what image you were trying to avoid. Messy? Unpredictable? Opportunistic?

Brows turning up, he spoke, “Sweetheart, whatever it is, you gotta know that I only think good things of you.” He stepped forward and closed the space between you, capturing your face in his hands. He leaned down and kissed you sweetly.

As soon as your lips parted, the words spilled out. “This is gonna sound dumb,” you started, to which he immediately shook his head. You continued, wondering how much dumber you sounded with each word, “I just, I don’t want to do things that’ll make me seem– that’ll make you, like, not take me seriously. I don’t know if that makes sense.”

He pulled out a chair and sat facing you. “Why wouldn’t I take you seriously?”

So he was going to make you say it? You figured you’d have this conversation eventually if this thing was going to continue, but you didn’t expect to find yourself having it here and now. You felt unsteady, despite being seated. Inhaling, you willed your voice to come out stronger than you felt, “Because… I’m younger than you.”

The air stilled as Joel stared at you for a moment, thinking of the most careful way to say he didn’t give a damn about how it looked from the outside. Truly, he was old and gruff and undeserving of you. Indeed, you were young and pretty and lively and smart and giving and everything he fucking needed. He rested his elbows on his knees, leaning forward, “Right. Let’s clear up a few things. First and foremost, I care about your feelings and your wellbeing. If the uh, the age difference is makin’ you uncomfortable or unsure, we don’t have to do this.”

You pursed your lips together, palms feeling clammy. “I know it’s… unconventional, or at least most people would think it is, but I’m okay with it if you are.”

“I’m the same way darlin’. Don’t want you thinkin’ I have a- a thing for young ladies, it ain’t like that. It’s just,” he looked into your eyes, “you.”

You cracked a smile, “Yeah, I’ve never gone after an older man before.”

“I’d hope not. Even most of these grown men ain’t good enough for you.”

You quirked an eyebrow, “And what’s good enough for me?”

“I could be, if you decide to keep me around,” he winked. “But hey, I mean it. If you start feelin’ like this isn’t the right thing for you, tell me. Please.”

You nodded, even though the notion sounded impossible. You wanted Joel with a ferocity unlike anything you’d felt before. Now that you’d had a taste of him, you needed more, even if blindly going after him made you look like a dog chasing a squirrel. For the first time, you wondered what your friends would think of it. Or your parents- would they wonder in bewilderment what had possessed you to seek out a single father? But they didn’t know Joel, you were sure that anyone who stepped into your shoes could understand why this man had you obsessed. Despite your insecurities, you were confident that he would be attentive to your needs. You looked into his eyes intently, “I trust you, Joel.”

He took it as a warning. “I know you do. And I don’t take that lightly.” He shifted in his seat, ruminating on whether you knew what you were getting yourself into. He didn’t want to deny your autonomy, but god, he didn’t want to be the reason you felt trapped down the line. And most of all, if it turned into a burning mess, he didn’t want to get Sarah tangled in it. But the way you were looking at him, those eyes were his weakness. How the hell was he supposed to deny himself of you when you were giving him that goddamn look, eyes revealing that you were so eager to please, dying to be something real to him.

“You check me if I’m outta line,” he poked your nose. The way you scrunched it had him falling faster than he thought possible.

“Oh, that’s my new favorite excuse.” Your voice turned parodic, “Joel, you can’t make me do the dishes, that’s taking advantage of me.”

“God, you’re gonna kill me, girl.” His warm laughter filled the kitchen, filled your heart. He stood, pulled you to your feet and into an embrace. You buried your nose into his neck. His lips pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

You sighed and mumbled into his skin, “I should probably get going, huh?”

He tutted in disapproval, “Go take a shower. Help yourself to my clothes.”

You pretended to contemplate, then said, “If you insist.”

In the shower, you reflected on last night, and finally recalled falling asleep on top of Joel. He’d probably carried you to bed. You cursed yourself for not being awake to remember the feeling. He’d probably lifted you into his arms like you were made of feathers. You focused on washing your hair to avoid getting too worked up, reaching for Joel’s shampoo yet again. Logically, you understood how one thing lead to another since the last time you did this, but emotionally, you could hardly comprehend how one phone call generated this sequence of events between you two.

The striking sense of deja vu followed your path back into his room. You rooted around his dresser, picking out a T-shirt and sweatpants. Pulling them on, you giggled to yourself, remembering your date banter about him wanting to see you in his T-shirt. You’d obviously meant it in a much less innocent way, but you supposed this counted too. While you were at it, you couldn’t resist the urge to snoop a bit. It seemed like he kept his room tidy, save for a few pairs of socks discarded on the floor. You slid open the nightstand drawer, not expecting much, but found some neatly folded clothes that didn’t look like his. In fact, they looked a whole lot like yours. Pulling them out, you confirmed, they were the clothes you had on the night Joel picked you up. You’d ultimately forgotten to retrieve them. You put them back as they were, deciding that your wardrobe didn’t miss these particular garments that much. But more so, you liked knowing that Joel kept a piece of you here, in his space, close to him.

Upon your return to the kitchen, he smirked at the sight of you, his shirt hanging loosely off your frame. You knew he’d like it. He leaned against the counter, nursing a second cup of coffee, “What you feelin’ like for breakfast, beautiful?”

You shrugged, “Anything.”

“You gotta gimme a real answer, darlin’.”

“Let’s do your favorite, I’ll help you make it.”

“Bacon and eggs it is, then.”

He was about to tell you where the pans and utensils were, but he watched you move around his kitchen with efficiency, already knowing which cabinets to reach for. He loved seeing you be so in your element in his house, like you lived here.

The moment felt insulated from the world. You, swaying slightly as you tended the stove. His hand on the small of your back as he moved behind you.

At some point, Joel snuck in some toast and fruit that you didn’t notice until you sat to serve yourself.

“When did we end up with such a spread?” you asked, baffled.

“When you weren’t lookin’,” he answered with a cheeky grin.

*. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. *

You sat on the couch, struggling to stay focused on an assignment. The minutes crawled by, the afternoon sun casting sidelong shadows of everything in your apartment.

Your eyes lit up when the phone rang, a welcome distraction, and all the more welcome to see it was Joel calling.

You quickly picked up, “Hi!”

“Hey darlin’, whatcha up to?”

“Just finishing up some homework. What about you?”

“Sittin’ here in my empty house.”

“Sarah’s not back yet?” you asked, surprised.

“She was back for a couple hours, then left again to a friend’s house. She’s really been into sleepovers lately.”

“That’s cool,” you tried to sound nonchalant. “So, what, you want me to keep you company?”

He heard your smile through the phone. “You got me there. You can, uh, bring over your work if you’re busy, I don’t mind.”

Your heart tightened knowing that he didn’t mind if your attention wasn’t on him, he enjoyed your presence all the same. You liked the thought of doing your assignments at his place, but you knew you definitely wouldn’t have any hope of concentrating. “I’m almost done with this, let me finish and I’ll be all yours.”

He liked the sound of that a little too much. “Alright darlin’. See you soon?”

“Within the hour.”

“I’m countin’ down the minutes.”

You rushed through the rest of your assignment, crossing your fingers that your professor would get bored halfway through and skim over the drop in quality. You practically threw yourself into your car, only realizing that you hadn’t changed out of Joel’s clothes once you were too far from your street to care. Whatever, as if he would mind.

You arrived at his house, opening the unlocked door with a clammy hand. Here once again, with Sarah gone, just the two of you. After your conversation this morning, you weren’t quite sure where you two were going from here, and you were anxious to find out. You stepped into the living room, not finding him there.

“Hi Joel,” you called out.

You jumped a bit when a pair of large and strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you backward into him. His chest was so warm against your back, easing the tension in your spine.

He leaned down and kissed your temple, “Missed you honey.”

“Missed me? I was only gone for a couple hours.”

“Too many,” he mumbled into your neck, planting a kiss there.

Your heart fluttered. You hadn’t expected Joel to be such a lover, already treating you like his one and only.

“Have you eaten, baby?”

“Not since our breakfast.”

“You hungry?”

“I could go for a snack.”

“Then we’ll get you a snack,” he led you by the hand to the kitchen.

You sat yourself on the countertop while he grabbed something from the highest shelf. His shirt rode up a bit, and you got a delicious view of his skin. 

“I hide these up here so Sarah doesn’t get to ‘em,” he pulled out a box of chocolates.

“Ah, secret stash. Should’ve kept it hidden from me too.”

“You’re allowed to know,” he winked.

You reached to grab some, but he intercepted your hand. He held one in front of your face, and after a moment of staring blankly, it clicked, and you promptly opened your mouth.

He smirked, and barely whispered, “Good girl,” but you heard it loud and clear. He popped the chocolate into your mouth. It was dark, you thought you recalled him saying he didn’t like things that were too sweet. You hummed in enjoyment.

You noticed a smudge of melted chocolate residue on the pads of his index and thumb. A devilish idea occurred to you, and you held back a smirk so as to not reveal your plot. Feigning innocence, you took his palm and pulled it to your mouth, closing your lips around his finger.

He froze, eyes locked on your face.

You swirled your tongue around his finger, licking off the chocolate and savoring the taste of his skin under the sweetness.

He slowly pulled his finger from your mouth to replace it with his thumb. His index, still wet with your saliva, curled under your chin, tilting your head up while bringing his thumb up to your lips. Looking at him through your lashes, you sucked off the chocolate, teeth gently grazing the ridges of his fingerprint. He almost wanted to laugh in disbelief, laugh at himself for not giving you enough credit. You devious little thing, you knew exactly what you were doing.

“What game are you playing, hmm?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you narrowed your eyes at him, as if offended by the question.

“I know you want somethin’. What are you tryin’ to get out of me?” He came to stand between your legs, hands planted on the counter at either side of you, caging you in.

“Nothing. Seems like you want somethin’.” Your hands laced together at the back of his neck, drawing him in closer.

His eyes raked down your figure, pupils wide and dark. For the first time, you identified lust in his gaze. You wondered how many times you hadn’t noticed it.

Your lips met in an ardent kiss, and your tongues quickly found each other. His hands roamed your hips and waist, fingers pressing into your soft flesh. You felt the warmth of his skin slide under your shirt, but just barely.

You had him figured out enough. For all his flirting – and much as you wished he’d do as he pleased with you – Joel was too cautious, you’d have to draw it out of him. You nudged his hands to go further up, and with the encouragement, his large palms smoothed over your back– strategically braless.

A groan vibrated in his throat, and he detached his lips from yours just far enough to mumble, “That what you want?”

You looked deep into his eyes, testing the connection, seeing if he could read you.

He could. Like a fucking book. And from that gleam in your pupils, he knew exactly what you needed. He asked in a teasingly coy tone, “Want me to make you feel good?”

You bit your lip and nodded, buzzing with anticipation.

Immediately, he picked you up off the counter, palms spread over your ass and squeezing. Your arms clung to his neck as he carried you to his room.

He laid you on the bed, holding himself over you. His lips trailed from your face, down to your neck, nipping at your collarbone. Once he heard you taking deeper breaths, he leaned away to stand. You propped yourself on your elbows, watching him with curiosity mixed with disappointment. You voiced your dissatisfaction, “Why are you so far?”

Standing above you, he raised a brow. He grabbed your legs from the back of your knees and yanked you to the edge of the bed. You released a small yelp at the suddenness, but it only added to the desire swirling in your stomach.

“Better?” He splayed a large hand on your chest, pushing you back onto the mattress. He kissed a path from your mouth to your ear, and whispered huskily, “Or you want me closer?”

Your hands twisted in his shirt, wanting to pull him against you, but he was moving away again… only to kneel between your legs. He rested his cheek against your thigh, giving you a sultry look.

He toyed with the waistband of the sweatpants. “You look real good in my clothes, baby. Planning on stealin’ these too?”

“I didn’t steal them, just… haven’t given them back.” You could hardly string the sentence together with his knuckles running along your hips.

“Sure. Might as well take them back now,” he started tugging down the sweatpants, “y’know, ‘fore you forget.”

Past your knees, off your ankles, discarded on the floor. His lip curled at the sight of your little blue panties.

His hands slid under your shirt, pushing it up and finding your heated skin. Your heart raced and you clutched the fabric, “I think I wanna keep this on.”

His eyes flickered to yours, “Whatever makes you most comfortable baby. Can I still touch under there?”

“Please,” you nodded. It wasn’t that you felt particularly shy, the truth was, it turned you on more to have Joel doing this while wearing his shirt. It made you feel claimed.

You felt his breath against your thighs as he spoke, “I’ll go real slow baby, you let me know how I’m doin’.”

You nodded, heart racing with anticipation.

“Need you to use your words, baby.”

You swallowed thickly, then found your voice, “I’m ready.”

He looked down at the dark wetness staining your panties. His eyes flicked back up to yours with a smirk, “I can tell.”

He hooked his fingers into the waistband, and slowly, so damn slowly, pulled them down, revealing you to him. You felt his breath against your pulsing heat, “You’re gorgeous baby.”

His hands slid up your thighs, pushing them apart. With each thumb, he spread your pussy lips open. He groaned at the sight, “So pretty baby…”

Gingerly, you threaded your fingers through his hair. He looked up at you expectantly, a small smile on his face that you found reassuring. “Let me take care of you, sweetie.”

You gave him a small nod, and he dipped his head. He licked a thick stripe through your folds, eliciting a whimper from you. It reached a higher pitch when he attached his lips to your clit. Responding to your noises, he devoted his attention to your clit, licking and sucking at a pace that soon had you whining. One of his hands snaked up your torso, under the shirt, until it reached the softness of your breast. His thumb circled your nipple, adding to the warmth pooling in your loins.

He lifted his head briefly to check in, “How you feelin’ honey?”

“Good, keep going,” you rushed out, tugging at his hair.

He chuckled, “Yes ma’am.”

He replaced his tongue with his fingers, sliding two of them up and down through your wetness, circling your clit and teasing your hole.

“Joel, please,” you moaned.

“Please what?”

You whined in response.

“Gotta use your words, baby.”

You tilted your head back onto the pillow, faced with the ceiling. “I need your fingers,” you choked out, cheeks heating at the words.

He hummed, index and middle still giving attention to your clit. “Look at me,” he commanded.

You looked down at him between your thighs, and once your eyes locked, he began pushing in one thick digit. You moaned, eyelids threatening to close, but he captured your gaze again with a low voice, “Keep looking at me darlin', that’s it… good girl.”

Once his finger was up to the knuckle inside you, he started pumping in and out at a measured pace. When he reattached his lips to your clit, your head fell back and a long moan escaped your throat. His tongue swirled ceaselessly around the bud, making your hips squirm.

Slowly, he pulled his finger almost completely out of you, and you felt a second prodding for entry. They pushed in slowly, allowing you to relish the stretch.

“Joel,” you whimpered in a way that had him grinding against nothing. He pumped his fingers at a faster pace, needing to hear his name pass your lips again.

He curled his fingers up, and you clenched around him with a high pitched moan.

“That’s the spot, huh?” He looked up at you mischievously, “Yeah, I know.”

His other hand continued playing with your nipple. With your own hand, you pulled the shirt higher, exposing your plush tits. He suddenly pushed himself up, eagerly attaching his mouth to the swell of your breast. He pressed wet kisses down one side, nipping and sucking just hard enough to leave a few purple marks. His fingers never stopped massaging that perfect spot inside you, rapidly pushing you toward the edge.

“Joel- fuck- ” you panted, “I’m so close.”

He brought himself back down to your pussy, taking in the sight of you dripping around his fingers. He flattened his tongue against your clit, and the sensation made you jerk your hips up.

“That’s right baby, get yourself there,” he rasped.

You gripped his hair, grinding on his tongue. His fingers stroked your g-spot further with every movement. He had you right where he wanted you, thoughts reduced to nothing but his name.

“Joel,” you moaned brokenly, eyes rolling back. Your orgasm rippled through you, had you arching your back and curling your toes.

“So sweet,” you felt him mumble, his lips never breaking contact with your pussy. Like a man starved, he licked you clean, lapping at your juices. You whined every time his tongue brushed over your sensitive clit, hardly allowing you to come down from your high. You tugged at his hair, and he reluctantly lifted his head from between your thighs.

He kissed a trail up your torso, chest, neck, and finally reaching your lips. He kissed you softly, slowly, tenderly. But even through your hazy mind, you dared not think lovingly.

“What about you?” you panted.

He smoothed your shirt down and moved you onto your side, pulling you into his chest. “Don’t worry about me sweetheart.”

“But I wanna return the favor,” you mumbled into his chest.

“You’ll get to another time, I just wanna focus on you.”

You relented without much of a fight, still dazed and sleepy from your high. The steady rhythm of his breathing soothed you.

“I’m gonna fix us some dinner, how about that?”

You made a small noise of disapproval, curling further into his chest. He chuckled quietly, rubbing your back.

Masterlist

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #tlou #the last of us #tlou hbo #tlou game #joel miller smut

[f10werfae]

Sy, I am Backup

pairing: Captain Syverson x Girlfriend!Sniper!Reader

summary: Reader is like a total badass super deadly sniper and she leads like a badass group of women who are also deadly soldiers. Anyways the ladies are called in to help rescue Sy and his team? (requested by @stormcloudss )

Warnings: Gun Violence

requests are open/ likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated♥️

Henry Cavill Masterlist, Full Masterlist, Taglist Form

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“You sure you’ll be okay baby? You know the girls and I are always on call to help?” Y/n said helping pack her boyfriend Sy’s backpack for his next mission at his recent position, commander. “I know sugar, but i’d rather not put you into danger, ya know this” Sy huffed throwing on his boots before hotly kissing his woman goodbye and off he went.

Y/n L/n, wasn’t the most innocent, with her being head of the sniping division, she had quite the talent herself. In fact that’s how Sy and her met, they were put into the same training group at the deployment centre, and voila. Sy couldn’t help but find himself drawn to this amazing woman, not only was she able to carry herself, but Sy as well (Literally)

Now 7 months down the line the two had moved in together and were finally getting serious, until the dreaded call came. They needed Sy out there again, luckily it was only a short drive and a smaller scale task, but still all the more dangerous. Even though Sy was mean and scary to others, to Y/n he was nothing but her big baby that asked to share showers, kisses and cuddles on the daily.

“Ok I don’t have a good feeling about this” Y/n whispered to herself and calling up her fellow girls on their groupchat, watching as Sy’s truck pulled off and out of their home’s driveway. Rifling through her old gear, Y/n got out her old suit and equipment with the phone stuck between her ear and shoulder.

Steph: God did I think we would never talk again, Miss L/n

Y/n: Come on now Steph, it’s only been two months

Grace: Did commander send us a task or something?

Y/n: No but he sent Sy’s team one, a drug bust, which is unusual because how violent could it get for soldiers to be there

Sophie: Jesus there must be bombs or something, there’s no way it’s just a drug bust

Y/n: That’s what i’m sayin! Which is why I think we need to get ready girls-

Stephanie: Woah woah owah, ready for what?

Y/n: Look, all of our men are on that squad, and we know damn well their general is going to hound us for backup

Grace: She’s got a point, we are the most experienced snipers around the place

Stephanie: I can’t believe i’m actually agreeing to this, meet y’all at L/n’s place in 15

Sophie: Omg the gang is back together

Within a half hour, all four girls were stood in the living room, strapped into their camo gear. Hairs in ponytails, heavy duty boots in tow and let’s not forget them reloading their customised weapons of war. Each different sniper sporting a different colour, each representing each woman’s aura. Y/n’s was a strong deep red, you can guess the reasoning for that.

“So what do we just wait here or something? How do we even know they’ll need us, there’s like 6 of them” Grace asked setting down her green sniper and sitting down onto the velvet white couch.

“Because of this” Y/n rushed out showing them the newest message from their commander

General L/n, assistance is needed at (insert address) Be prepared for situations 302 and 105. Mild casualties reported, enter from the side and take position. You know what to do.

“302? That means mild explosives does it not” Sophie asked looking at the phone herself, her hand reaching for her purple sniper, her fingertips tingling with anticipation and exhilaration.

“Yeah and 105, means outnumbered. Holy shit girls, we got ourselves a good one” Grace shouted getting up, the rest of them following her out of the house and into the one van they were going to use.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Reaching the destination which seemed to be a dingy old warehouse, the girls got a glimpse of the amount of men walking in and out of the building, not their own men of course. Slinging on their extra ammo and their snipers, the girls found a wide enough pipe system for them to climb up skilfully. Y/n the first one to end up onto the roof, found herself a nice little spot with an opening straight into the warehouse. Setting up her stand and sniper, peeked into her scope and saw Sy’s squad.

Oh my were they outnumbered, they were practically surrounded, all of them tied up and some were clearly bleeding out. Just how strong were these other men? I mean granted there must be 100 of them, but wow.

Y/n felt her breath hitch when she saw her man, Sy, sitting dejectedly against a pile of cardboard boxes. His face still as brave as ever, but this time sporting more than a few cuts with blood running down his face. Y/n was going to kill these sons of bitches even if it was the last thing she did.

Looking up around the roof, Y/n saw that the other three girls were also raging, all of them nodding at each other before focusing down at their targets. Y/n found her first shot, a bald man who was tattooed all over, he seemed to be the one giving the orders.

Counting down under her breath

“3, 2, 1” And the trigger went off, the bullet embedding itself into the man’s head, instantly knocking him into the ground.

“Gotcha asshole” Y/n whispered loading up her next bullet, hearing all the men down below go into chaos at who shot their boss, the other three girls taking down what was assumed to be his right hand men. Leaving only the pawns of this vigilante group, when all of a sudden, Grace found herself making eye contact with one of the men, his smirk revealing golden teeth and a horrid face.

“Shit shit shit, i’ve been spotted, we gotta go now!” Grace shouted slinging back on her gun and running to the other girls, everyone hearing the men shouting up the side of the compound before they felt the shaking of the pipe system. Their only way down.

“Ok fuck uh- we gotta jump” Y/n rushed out looking over the hole she was spying on, noticing the high stack of cardboard boxes that could break their fall.

“Ok L/n even if we jump, we have to somehow get six injured men into a van, how does that work?”

“Let me take care of that, you guys jump and get them all into the van. If i’m not there in 10 minutes, leave without me yeah?” Y/n said stepping away from the hole and putting the other girls forward towards it.

“The fuck do you mean? Sy will kill us if anything happens to you, plus we can’t just leave you. No man left behind” Steph shouted

“Look, I won’t be left behind if this fucking works ok?! Now just go!” Y/n shouted, seeing the three girls salute to her before each taking their turn to jump onto the boxes, when all of a sudden Y/n heard the sound of metal behind her. They were here.

“Well, it’s just a little lady, musta got lost?” The front man said, twirling a pistol in his hands,

Within seconds Y/n had aimed her sniper and had shot the man full force sending him off the edge of the building, “Bring it on you filthy fuckers” She shouted loading in another round and going to town at the men in front of her, whilst running about trying to dodger bullets

- -

Grace, Sophie and Steph despite hurting their feet in the landing had now found themselves alone with their soldiers, untying them rapidly until a gruff hand pulled Sophie’s, “Where’s Y/n? I know she’s in your division. Agent L/n” Sy asked desperately limping, Sophie couldn’t help but stay quiet and instead looking towards the ceiling where they heard a loud cry say “OW FUCK SAKE” A woman’s cry.

- -

Y/n had near wiped them out, leaving one man behind to step over the bodies of his comrades. Realising she had no more bullets left, the man smiled at the sound of the empty gun, aiming his gun towards her leg before shooting it, immediately sending her to the ground, “OW FUCK SAKE” Clutching onto her leg Y/n growled and groaned, watching the man step closer towards her, a victorious look on his face.

“Looks like you’re down sweetheart, how unfortunate, women are always pathetic” He spat laughing at her, walking back towards the pipe system, leaving her to lay there in agony.

“Not yet” Y/n groaned pulling the key out of the hand grenade she was wearing with her teeth, and throwing it as hard as she could towards him as he bent down to climb

- -

“I need to go back for Y/n, you fuckers don’t understand-“

“No trust me we didn’t want to leave her either, but her orders were to get you guys into the van and wait ten minutes” Grace said guarding the back of the van which held the 6 grateful men, thankfully all of them only having mild injuries ranging from dislocations to cuts

*BOOM*

Shattering their conversation, everyone watched as a man's body blew up mid air, parts of the building edge being blown up to pieces. Everyone going silent at the thoughts in their heads,

"get the fuck out of my way or i'll make you" Sy growled, Grace immediately sighing and letting him step out, his now bandaged leg giving him the ability to somehow walk strongly. Sy groaned as he pulled himself up the pipe system, his heartbeat pounding in his ears at the fear of what's happened to his beloved girlfriend. His first love as well as that.

Relief filling him as he looked over the edge and saw a very much conscious and in pain

Y/n, who still had that same smirk on her face, “Told you I was here for backup baby” She shouted watching him shake his head and walk over to her,

“Don’t you ever fucking do that again, ya hear me?” Smashing his lips onto hers as if she would disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough, that’s how he felt.

(A few weeks later)

“Baby can I have a chocolate bar please” Y/n shouted from the living room, her casted leg set up on the couch, with Aika licking at her exposed toes.

“Comin’ right up honey” Sy said walking into the kitchen before settling beside her, her head falling on his chest with his arms wrapped around her shoulder.

“So about our next mission-“

“Shut it sugar, we’re not going anywhere anymore, not after that last scenario. We are done baby”

“What do you mean done? We can’t just quit?” Y/n questioned looking up at him confused, his lips pressing soft kisses to her temple and cheeks

“Of course not, but parental leave is a thing i’m sure we could get” He shrugged smirking down at her, taking a swig of his beer before taking a deep inhale in her neck, smelling her sweet peachy scent that he oh loved so much. A bit too much actually.

“But we aren’t parents Sy- Wait- HOLD ON-“

——-

Taglist Tags (Form is up there^^): @thereisa8ella @beck07990 @vrittivsanghavi @diyabhanushali1 @angelmather1 @hp-hogwartsexpress @lastwandastan @fdl305 @uwiuwi @alexxavicry @bookfrog242 @alina02 @aerangi @i-beg-your-pardon-laufeyson @sparklemarysunshine @oliviah-25 @mischiefsemimanaged @nikkitc0703 @hallecarey1 @misshale21 @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mansaaay @princess-paramour @stormcloudss @marvelgurl @taramaria @mysticfalls01 @kebabgirl67 @athena-roy @tinyelfperson @madebylilly @dumb-fawkin-bitch @kimhtoo17 @pandaxnienke

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill one shot #captain sy x reader #captain syverson #sy x reader

[frogasaurusrex39]

unreliable narrorator Y/n doing a school project on the Thorn General or whatever they called him

The Amazing Biography of The Valley's Loyal General (With pictures!!) Written by Y/N!

[!!REQUESTS OPEN!! Characters: {Y/N}(Written first person), Grim(Briefly), Mozus Trein, Lilia Vanrouge, Malleus Draconia, Gargoyle, Ortho Shroud, Idia Shroud, Azul Ashengrotto, Jade Leech(Briefly) Word Count:1,342 Warnings/Spoilers: ooc-ness (since the narrator is *unreliable*), A joke about emo stereotypes (Not all emos follow the stereotypes and I don't mean any harm by it. Shoutout to all my emos reading this) Also somehow no spoilers Extra: Y/N stands for Your Name, E/C stands for eye color

It was a gloomy morning in Homeroom, my classmates sluggish, the desks on fire, Grim hungry, demons rising from portals, my air pods dead, oh it was absolutely dreadful! I was about to die!

However...Trein-Sensei's words sparked life in my dull {E/C} eyes. A massive homework assignment!! Now I hate homework, especially big projects, but this one was amazing! A biography on any historical figure from the Valley Of Thorns War back in the day. He wrote down the list of people available on the board, but I already knew who I wanted. The mysterious Right General of Briar Valley (Pretend it's sparkly I lost my glitter pen) Not the Queens, not the Left General, not the legendary Man of Iron (or was it steel?) The Right General! He was so intriguing. How was he so known yet such an enigma? I was going to find out. But I had competition. Lilia also wanted to do his project on the General. I couldn't let him snag this opportunity from me. I played it civil when I first heard of his plans. I humbly asked to take the General for my essay, but he refused! I am an amazing charmer, and I tried working my magic, but he just wouldn't budge! So I had no other choice....I challenged him to A DUEL!! (DUNDUNDUN!!) We met at the courtyard in the afternoon. I came ready to fight. I wouldn't let this weirdo beat me. (Before you come at me, he literally picks his nose, THAT'S WEIRD!!) I had my sword and my legendary gear which I got from my Great Grandfather. He said I was destined for something big, and this was it! Lilia had his own gear he must have gotten from his housewarden or something, but it couldn't top mine. Everyone came out to watch our duel. We both unsheathed our blades and charged at each other. The crowd cheered my name (I'm a famous warrior of course it's expected)! We dueled fought with all our might, but...he had defeated me! I laid on the ground, beaten and bruised. I looked up at my opponent, who roared laughing. It lasted for what felt like eternity. (It was only like a few seconds but for dramatic effect Sensei!!) "This means The General is mine." He eventually spoke. I glared up at him. How could I lose to an old man? (No offense I know you're old too) One who's...Emo? (No offense to emos!!) He must've had his teen angst and rock music powers stored up to trash me. Bested by someone who wears 5 pounds of eyeshadow everyday...blech. I didn't speak... I couldn't... I was embarrassed in front of the whole school.... He laughed again.... No! I couldn't let this twink beat me!! (Don't google what twink means). I kicked him in his balls and rained victorious! He begged for mercy, and I gave it to him. (I can make any man beg, especially the stupid kind)

So, the Right General Of Briar Valley was mine!! And I already knew where I could get my first bit of information...A source no stupid nose picker had... Malleus Draconia! (Or as I like to call him, Tsunotaoru [Hornton]) (Okay yes now I notice Lilia literally is his bestiepoo (or something.) But still!! For dramatic effect!!) According to my math he must've met the General at least once in his life. He's the heir to the thrown throne after all. The General is still alive both had the time to interact. 18 years to! (I think Tsunibuni [Horntonwornton](pronounce it with o) is that age) So it was perfect!! I set up an interview in the library. He was willing to answer my questions.

He answered all of them!! It was perfect!! I told you Tsunibuni [Horntonwornton] would be of use!! Though it did take some persuasion... "Where'd you hide the body?" I queried. "I'm not telling you that." He protested. "Are you sure? What if I.....Hurt your precious gargoyles" I said as I picked up a massive gargoyle and held my legendary sword to it's throat. It looked at Mallypoo with tears in it's eyes. "Y-you wouldn't..." He stuttered. "A-ANYTHING BUT THAT!!" (I told you I can make any man beg) "Oh I would." I smirked and brought the dagger closer. "Poor little gargoy won't make it out of this alive." "NO! FINE, I'LL TELL YOU ANYTHING YOU WANT TO KNOW!! BUT PLEASE, ANYTHING BUT HURTING MY PRECIOUS POOKIEWOOKIEBEAR!! MY SWEETHEART!! THE LOVE OF MY LIFE!!" Of course, he didn't have the answer to everything, so I did have to hit the books. I hit them with a stick. It wasn't effective. Don't know why. Maybe I did it wrong? Or did I have to use something other than a stick? Oh well... My last option... GOOGLE!! But I was running short on time and the Wi-Fi was down...so I had to contact a good ol pal of mine. The first real Android...

Ortho Shroud.

I called Ortho up and raced out the door. He answered right away but there was one problem... He was busy getting Idia out of bed. He was sad about some sort of gambling game. So I made my lil broski a deal. I'd wake his brother up and he'd let me use his search engine. So I ran to Ignyhyde!! Once I got there he was waiting outside for me. He quickly thanked me and took me to Idia's room. (It was so messy, and it smelled like unwashed shut in, it was disgusting) But I was determined to help him out!

I tried everything! Shaking him, screaming, promising him ice cream, nothing! He was a stubborn fire boy. So, I had one option left... Water. So, I really didn't think this through, but I guess his fire hair goes out so.... I MADE HIM BALD

That was not what I wanted to do! I swear! He was mortified! I know I'd be too if I lost all my hair... I didn't know what to do! I panicked!! But luckily, I figured out what to do with the help of Ortho. However...It involved Idia leaving his room... Which was hard to do. So, I did the same thing to Idia as I did Malleus. "Come with us or-... Hatsune Miku gets it!" "NO! ANYTNING BUT HATSUNE MIKU!" It was a piece of cake.

One hoodie later and we rushed to the one place where all our problems could be solved. Mostro Lounge. Azul's known to grant people wishes. Once we got inside Jade led us to a table, but we had to order drinks before Azul would see us. Of course we did, they have an awesome Mostro Lounge x Mystery Shack drink. Idia said they needed a ship name. I don't know what he meant, no boats were involved. After getting our drinks eventually we were allowed to see Azul. Ortho reassured his brother as we entered the octopus's office. Now I know what you're thinking... He's a sketchy man and it'll be hard to get his hair back for a fair price. So, how'd we get out of this without anemones on our head? Well, I don't know. I had to finish writing this paper before tomorrow and I didn't have time to sit and do business deals. Therefore, I left them. (Don't judge me!! This was a big assignment!) So how did I get the information I needed? Well... I read the books. That's a way better method then hitting them. Learned that the hard way...And hours later I had all the information I needed to write the essay! The end

"{Y/N}.... The assignment was a 5 paragraph essay on a historical figure. That's not what this is." Trein said as he slid the paper back over to me. "WHAT?! BUT THIS IS QUALITY CONTENT! IT'S ENTERTAINING!" I shouted back. "Half of this stuff didn't even happen." "Well, dramatic effects!!" "Redo this." "Hmph... Fine."

WOW, WILD RIDE!! YOU MADE IT TOO THE END THO!! I LOVE THIS Y/N CREATURE I MIGHT MAKE AN OC OUT OF THEM ONE DAY!! That's for the future tho rn I gotta add tags and post this. Comments appreciated My requests are open Thanks for reading Byebye!!

#Unreliable Narrorator Yuu/Reader Fics #disney twst #twst #twisted wonderland #lilia vanrouge #malleus draconia #gargoyles #idia shroud #ortho shroud #azul ashengrotto #jade leech #very briefly #fanfic #self insert #reader insert #gn reader #odd cast of characters #bald idia shroud #oopsie #spoilers #general vanrouge #twisted wonderland lilia #twst lilia vanrouge #requests open #reqs open #send requests #writing #I listened to pjsekai music while writing this #piani versions #also minecraft music lol

[phoenixstark1708]

the daughter of an archangel

chapter 1

sooo..... this is my backstory in my marvel DR, major trigger warnings, this also crosses over into supernatural later, but i havent even written that yet.

trigger warnings: abuse, torture, blood, death, fucked up timeline, etc.

pairings: later will be sam/dean winchester, and even later will be bucky,

in this, endgame/inf war doesnt happen, i took plenty of creative liberties.

summary: (this is written in first-person) phoenix is a girl who was created by the nazi organization HYDRA, and she meets the winter soldier on a mission, i cant say much more without spoiling future chapters. will try to proofread but no promises.

word count: 2,654/10,649 - that ive written so far.

change of POV's will be indicated

“Get up you stupid pig!” the guard said, in a thick Russian accent, banging the cell door with his truncheon. He shone a flashlight in my eyes, making them burn from the lack of light for the past two days. I stretched out my sore muscles, wincing from the scabbed-over cuts all over my body. After days of no contact with anyone, just me and the cold, dark cell. Somehow being dragged away for training almost feels like a blessing. I stood and allowed him to cuff me. at this point, I know the drill. “so, Angel, how was your weekend?” He asked while holding my shoulder, guiding me out of the cell – the only place I’ve known as home for my whole life – literally. I was born in the damned bullpen. My mother died during birth, I guess having twins really had her beat.

On the way to the hell chamber – sorry, training room - I saw him, I saw Benjamin. For the first time in weeks, I saw my twin. He looked rough. Probably just had a sparring sesh with one of the winter soldiers. he’s always been smaller than me, But there was something different. he seemed especially weak. I haven’t eaten anything in what I assume has been around 4 days. He probably hasn’t either. They were always doing this, trying to weed out the weaker members. Its grim, but I knew he would die soon. It was clear that I was stronger, and if it came down to it, I would kill him without a second thought. After all, that’s how I was trained. I was bred, raised, and trained to be ruthless. And that is the only reason that I am still alive. HYDRA has no room for error.

As I walked into the training room, I saw the winter soldier, long, brunette hair, with a metal arm. The only time ive ever seen him is in cryo-sleep, he looked so peaceful, so harmless. The man standing before me was soemthing different entirely. His eyes were blue as ice, and just as cold. He looked right through me, almost like a drone. “this is her first mission. You will be supervising her.” he hands the man with a metal arm a file containing four pictures of senator james martin, whos been a public neusence for hydra for a while. The winter soldier grabbed me by the arm and dragged me through the door.

It was a quiet drive on the Harley, at the moment, we were just n full assassin gear. My small arms were wrapped around his waist, making him clearly tense up. His metal arm was glinting in the moonlight as we pulled into a nearby parking garage, a birdseye view of the gathering senator martin. “I will stay up here while you go inside. As many casualties as possible. No survivors.” He said gruffly, setting up the rifle. “They won’t let me in. I’m wearing a costume.” I said, my voice gravelly from days of no use. He glanced down at me for the first time, and gazed at me for a moment, before pulling out a T-shirt that had the senators face on it, and a pair of grey sweatpants. “Change into these, keep your weapons concealed until my signal.” I quickly stripped. he turned away, giving me privacy. I was more then used to being watched, so this was surprising. I fixed the too-large clothes, and looked harmless. Instead of looking like an eight-year-old assassin, I looked like a normal kid.

There was something in the winter soldier’s eyes that I didn’t recognise, almost like affection. I walked down the stairs of the parking garage, feeling his eyes on me the whole way. Slowly, I crossed the street, nearly getting hit by a truck that I didn’t know to look for. As I made my way to the entrance of the granite building, I noticed trucks outside, like the kind I saw at my home, - armoured trucks. I, of course thought this was normal. “Careful, there are hostiles in the building. Captain America and the black widow are protecting the target.” His voice came through my earpiece. “I don’t know who they are” I whispered back. “You will. They won’t want to hurt you, use that to your advantage.” And with that, he went radio silent.

As I walked barefoot through the large doors, I spotted a woman in a similar outfit to what I wear, only without the red skull. She spotted me immediately, and I tried to disappear through the crowd. I was unsuccessful. A man in a red, white, and blue uniform grabbed my arm gently, holding a shield in his other hand. “Who are you kid?” He peered down at me “I’m here to see my daddy.” I said, feigning panic. I pulled my arm out of his grasp and ran toward a random man, tugging on his shirt. Shield guy turned away before he could see the man push me away. I stayed by him, trying to convince the people that he was my father. I got a little turned around, when a perverted looking man grabbed my wrist “hey sweetheart. You’re gonna come with me now.” He said, his voice just as weird as him. The man in the jumpsuit put his hand on his shoulder “why dontcha leave the girl alone pal.” He dragged him away.

Just then, his signal came, by shooting the senator in the gut, taking him down. The panic set in immediately. People running around screaming like headless chickens. The man with the metal arm burst through the door, sealing off the only accesable exit. I grabbed the first person I saw, they just happened to be the senators daughter. She couldn’t have been more then seventeen; I snapped her neck. I unfurled my wings and tripped some old man with them. I stabbed him in his corroded artery, a fatal blow. Killing got easier the more I did it.

The fight went on like this for a while, until the red-haired woman pushed me to the ground “stay down kid.” seeing me pinned down, the man i was on the mission with began to make his way over to me. I waved my hand, and the woman went flying, hitting the wall with a thud. Oh yea, something I forgot to mention; I'm not a normal person. In addition to having my DNA spliced with the peregrine falcon, giving me wings, and the ability to fly, I was also experimented on with energy from the soul stone, one of the six infinity stones. Ergo, I had ‘powers’. The winter soldier stared at me, shocked, his brief moment of distraction caused him to get a wooden chair to the head. He shot the dude that hit him.

The man in the flag costume, and the woman ran. Smart. Tactical retreat. I ran to every person I saw, and killed as many as I could. Once we were sure that there were no more targets, the winter soldier grabbed me, and threw me on the motorcycle behind him.

We stopped at a motel that charged by the hour… if that tells you anything. “we will stay here for a while. You need to get clean, I know that the hoses hurt.” he said, a hint of compassion in his voice. Hes right. They used fire hoses to ‘clean up’ whenever any of us got dirty. I walked into the bathroom and stripped. I didn’t close the door, because I assumed I wasn’t allowed to. I didn’t know how to use the shower so I just sort of stared at it, waiting for it to turn on. The man walked in, turned the handle of the shower, and left. I jumped when water started to spurt out of the faucet. I stepped into the water slowly, gauging the temperature before completely immersing myself into it. My muscles involuntarily relaxed at the sensation of the warm water. I began rubbing the dirt off of my limbs when the winter soldier walked in.

He didn’t look at me, but made a damp washcloth and started cleaning his wounds. They were worse then I assumed, and I coudnt help but observe him while washing the rest of the dirt off of my body. I only sustained minor cuts and bruises in the fight, but he had deep lacerations on his face, presumably from the chair. I stepped out of the shower and stood there, a towering three-foot-seven-inches, short for my age. He glanced at me and handed me a towel while dabbing his wounds “whats this for?” I asked “dry yourself. They will notice our absence if were not back soon.” so, I dried myself off, and put on my uniform, running my fingers over the red skull with tentacles, like a squid. I giggled, imaging it wiggling its tentacles.

Bucky

The little girl was looking at her uniform, giggling. For a moment I thought of two young girls in brooklyn. I was a teenager with sisters… what? No, I wasn’t. I am a weapon for hydra. Whats going on? I was steadily bleeding from the prick who hit me with a chair, we needed to get back to base. She suddenly looked up at me, concern evident in her sweet, blue eyes. “are- are you okay? You're bleeding,” she frowned. “Let me help you. I can make people feel better.” I skeptically sat on a bed near where she was standing. She slowly reached over to me; I shied away when her hand got close to my wound, remembering the various punishments I've had over the years. I am a wild animal. I need to be controlled. She looked into my eyes, the child-like glimmer long gone. It's unfair; all children should have that. No. She is not a child; she is a weapon. That’s it- like me. She gently laid her small hand on my head near the cut. All of the sudden her eyes started glowing, a certain gold color I'd never seen before. Her hands began glowing the same, and my head started tingling.

I immediately felt better. I can't explain it, but she somehow lodged herself into my memory, unintentionally. And I knew I would never forget her. She looked at me worried, noting the glazed look in my eyes. “are you alright? I'm sorry if I hurt yo-” I cut her off “My name is Bucky,” I blurted out; I had no idea where that came from. “You need to call me Winter, or ‘the winter soldier’, otherwise they’ll kill us both” she looked at me confused and alarmed “okay… I will” “we need to go back.” so I took her small hand, gently, and led her to the HYDRA-issued motorcycle we came here on. The drive back to base was cold. I could feel it in my bones. I couldn’t help but wish I could help her warm up. I didn’t know what I was feeling, but I knew HYDRA wouldn’t like it. I am a machine. Not a man.

I rode up to the gate “солдат?” soldier? “миссия успешна. приветствую гидру.” mission successful. hail hydra. The gate opened, and we rode into the garage. She was immediately ripped off the back of the bike and dragged away. “you are late. The camera in your suit shows you made a ‘pit stop’. She had an effect on you. You will both be heavily punished for this.” no. I practically jumped off the bike. I grabbed the mans neck and snapped it before being sedated. The last thing I heard before I got knocked out was “well, after we make them watch, we’ll have to wipe him again.” I woke up strapped to a modified autopsy table. Modified so I was reclined enough so that I had a clear view of the girl. And she had a clear view of me. One of the doctors walked in with an array of surgical instruments “doctor- sorry- creator! Thank goodness! I was scared we were taken by the bad people!” the little girls face lit up with relief. The doctor sighed and placed his kit on a surgical tray, the knives clattering against the cold steel. “child, птичий урод.” bird-freak “you have been very bad. And you know what happens to bad children.” he put on surgical gloves, and picked up a Sickle Probe, the device that dentists use. He walked toward her slowly “creator, im sorry! It was a mistake! Please. Im sorry” she cried out. however, she didn’t struggle against the restraints. “it is too late to apologise freak. You will be punished.” “yes sir.” she slumped against the autopsy table, keeping her fear-filled eyes on the doctor. He walked up to her small body, and turned off the magnetic cuff, allowing her arm to fall. The monster grabbed her arm, and stuck the hook of the sickle probe into the inside of her elbow. She began silently crying from the pain, blood slowly dribbling from the wound. He slowly dragged the hook down her arm, toward her wrist, tearing her skin. The blood was flowing heavily now, and he was trying to stifle her cries. After reaching her wrist, he put the probe down and picked up a rusty razorblade.

He moved to her chest, and drug the blade down her sternum, and to her lower stomache. She was crying freely now. “heal yourself.” she did as she was told, her eyes glowing gold, and the wounds shimmering as they healed instantly. He grabbed a klein tool – essentially a broader pliers. He walked to her bare feet, and clamped down on her small toe. He bent it to a sickening angle, causing the bone to snap with a disturbing CRACK. She screamed. He used the wire-clipping part of the klein tool to cut off a patch or skin on her foot. He grabbed a knife, and made slow, deep, and deliberate cuts all over her body. After nearly an hour, he decided hed had enough of that. he only reason she was still alive was because she wasn’t fully human – she couldn’t have been. “heal. Now. Not your foot though. You will deal with that.” she did as she was told. She was exhausted. She collapsed against the table before he shocked her with a set of jumper cables rigged up to a car battery. While watching this, I struggled against the restraints so much, my wrist began to bleed. Every time I screamed for them to let her go, my restraints would get an electrical charge. I was muzzled like a dog. Reminding me that I am no better then one. I am one. She screamed every time he cut her, shocked her, stabbed her, or tore the skin off her flesh. When she screamed, the building would shake. Not figuratively either.

She was clearly more powerful than she could see. She could easily kill him, she could kill everyone in this god forsaken building. HYDRA had control over her mind. But not in the same way as they had mine. They beat her down, made her feel powerless, made her think wrong is right, and right is wrong. I have to get her out of here. The doctor made his way over to me “judging by your reaction, she made an imprint on you. Well, time to forget her!” he said, laughing malevolently. “no! You cant-” I was cut off by a blow to my temple. They dragged me to the Memory Suppressing Machine. A white hot pain ripped through me. I couldn’t remember the mission, but I could remember a girl. A sweet, young girl. I knew I should protect her. As far as they're concerned, I don’t remember a thing. “Желание. Семнадцать. Ржавый. Рассвет. Печь. Девять. Добросердечный. Возвращение на родину. Один. Товарный вагон” my trigger words.

let me know if you wanna be tagged in pt2

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky x reader #female reader #smut #avengers #bucky fanfic #bucky x you #catws #dom!reader #supernatural #castiel #spn crack #spn #bi dean #jack kline #marvel cinematic universe #marvel #mcu #marvel mcu #infinity war

[kulay-ng-banaag]

HWS SEA but make it HetaDND

Enjoy these rough sketches because I will literally not come back to them until December. 🥲

(From Back —> Front, L —> R)

VN: Bumped into a couple of Quora answers that discussed archery practice, which got me thinking about Viet as a mounted archer, and I immediately thought of the elephants that the Trung sisters & Ba Trieu rode on. So Ranger: Beastmaster — also what if the elephant was from Thai? 🫣💘 Easily a tank through her mount, but can fight well as a DPS (think OW D.Va). ID: The thing is he has the fighting style of a Warlock(: Genie?) but the character of a Paladin(: Oath of the Ancients). He’s giving CR Fjord. 😭💞 For sure, TANK. TH: He’s just a Monk. Debated on his subclass for a long time because he’s a war freak charge-into-the-frontline kind of fighter. Way of Mercy is ironic but I love the imagery of the Merciful Masks (except he gets the khon styles). Way of Shadow — it’s on one possible etymology of Siam (Sanskrit, “dark”). Easily a DPS type. MY: Druid: Circle of the Moon for the Wild Shape into a Tiger, and as of typing this I just realized the moon motif. Mostly support, but upset him just enough and he’ll easily switch gears. PH: Bard: College of Swords for the two-weapon fighting style aka arnis/kali/eskrima. Personally, he’s more DPS than support, though as a latter Dirge Singer & Siday fit the bill. SG: See, the first thing that came to mind was the RO Alchemist class for the Homonculus feature — hence, his companion Fishball. Obviously there’s Artificer: Alchemist for that, but also it would be cool if Fishball is just a “chibi” form of his patron of a water dragon— Warlock: Fathomless. Not to mention Singa would have both high INT and CHA — alas, he’s a Support guy.

(more notes under the cut)

I jokingly called this AU as Dungeons & Drawing Circles, but truth be told I’m not restricting it to being after DND, let alone 5e. Now I’m just throwing hands and calling it a fantasy RPG AU, although out of familiarity, I do refer to DND 5e often. The classes I highlighted above are just there for where I got the inspiration.

I’ve had the occasional “oooh I think [character] would be a [class/es]” hc over the years, but I ended up expanding on the AU as a means of coping with the early months of ECQ. Now there’s so many plot bunnies that I’d summarize as: your og main 8 unwittingly team up for a quest and, over time, they hit a point where they realize that they cannot fight the BBEG alone (or at least just the 8 of them), so they travel around the world recruiting allies a la Suikoden 108 Stars of Destiny.

It’s even got a literal history timeline where preceding events (and characters!!!) are involved with the BBEG and ultimately why the main 8 came together. Think playing a later game in a series where you not only get to meet the playable characters from earlier games, but you get to recruit them.

And I just wanted to draw cool fantasy looks, haha! Nevertheless, nothing is final — especially when I've clearly taken inspiration from some indigenous groups. It's why I shelved this for so long because I need to do more research and it's just not something I have a lot of free time for.

#hetalia #hws philippines #hws indonesia #hws vietnam #hws thailand #hws malaysia #hws singapore #hws sea #fantasy au #fantasy: hetadnd #no reblog because i hate showing sketches <3 #posting here because this is a concept blog after all

[thetygre]

The thing of Kreia is that she's not 100% comparable to Senator Armstrong and Dagoth Ur on the 'Video Game Villains Who Kind of Had a Point' scale. All three characters follow the same basic pattern;

Villain: I have a problem with [thing]!

Player: Yeah! Screw [thing]!

Villain: That's why I'm going to kill millions of people!

Player: Yeahhhh wait- No, that's bad.

Villain: [Player Character], you were victimized by and survived [thing], and look how cool you are! You should join me!

And then the big final boss fight starts, you get the picture. It's that last part that doesn't quite add up. In Metal Gear, Raiden is a victim of the military industrial complex; he was a literal child soldier, and later would go on to be so wounded that he would have to be half machine to survive. In Morrowind, the Nerevar, regardless of what race or path you choose, starts as a prisoner of the Empire. But in Knights of the Old Republic 2, the Jedi Exile isn't really a victim of anything done by the Force.

Yes, the Exile is kicked out of the Jedi, but the Jedi are just a group of people, and their politics don't really affect the Exile's (or any anybody else's) connection to the Force. It was the Exile themselves who chose to disconnect from the Force as a means of escaping unimaginable psychic pain. That fact is even central to Kreia's ideation of the Exile; that they were strong enough to cut themselves off from the Force and go on living their life. Put simply, the Jedi Exile has no beef with the Force.

But Kreia wasn't just appealing to the Exile, the player character; she was trying to appeal to the player. Because when Kreia talks about the Force in KotOR 2, it's not just the Force, but the entire moral system of the Star Wars franchise. The whole game, even the parts that aren't about Jedi, is about questioning Star Wars. Why are we fighting so hard for the Republic? Does the galaxy even perceive a difference between Sith and Jedi? Isn't this just a constant cycle of war for a bunch of space wizards?

I think Kreia was speaking to the player on a meta-level. Even in 2005, when KotOR 2 came out, franchise fatigue was beginning to set in. To be fair, it seemed like a good time to get meta and start asking some introspective questions about Star Wars, especially within the Expanded Universe. This was the same year Revenge of the Sith came out; the story was done being told now.

Surely it couldn't go on forever, right? Surely this was the end? How long did Star Wars really have? I mean could you imagine dragging Star Wars out for decades? Telling the same stories about the same characters over and over again? A never-ending deluge of spin-offs? An endless stream of content, with no end in sight? It can't be done, right?

Right?

Right?

#star wars #kreia #knights of the old republic 2 #kotor 2

[articulately-composed]

Thoughts on the ATLA live action

I may not post about it a ton, but ATLA was what brought me into fandom culture over a decade ago, so as you may assume, I have some Thoughts about the live action netflix series. Now, I'm gonna preface this by saying I didn't hate it. Surprisingly enough. I came into it thinking the whole series was gonna be a hate watch, but they actually did some interesting stuff with it.

Let's start with the positives.

Sokka - When I heard that they were removing Sokka's sexism, I thought his character was doomed. That's so much of his season 1 arc, I had no idea what was gonna be left. Turns out, they didn't take away his preoccupation with being a manly warrior, they just made it less overt, and honestly, that brand of "girls suck!" sexism that exists to get refuted in early 2000s kids tv probably would have sounded out of place and preachy in a 2024 show geared towards adults. In the end, Sokka felt like one of the most fleshed out characters. His original arc was left in tact, with the bonus of him being a simpy bottom for Suki in a way that kinda fits.

Zuko - I really liked that they added some extra backstory between Zuko and Iroh sooner. The bit with the funeral was honestly really nice. I saw some critiques saying that zuko was made out to be sympathetic far too soon, but honestly, I think it worked. The show is so well known that I don't know if gaining sympathy for zuko later on would have the same effect as it did 20 years ago. I thought the Zuko and Iroh moments really helped solidify their bond on Zuko's part, and tbh, that's gonna make his season 2 betrayal that much stronger (if they pull it off well). I also like the stuff they added with Zuko's journal. Of course he's a fuckin nerd who takes detailed notes with sketches about the stuff he's researching. If Zuko existed irl he'd have a bullet journal youtube channel.

The structure - I hate that no tv series gets more than 8 episodes anymore. it's ruined so much when it comes to pacing in literally everything. That being said, I like what they did when it comes to combining plots. It really made the show feel like it's own thing and not a 1-to-1 adaptation. They stuck Jet and the Mechanist in Omashu, and it worked. Roku's temple and The Blue Spirit were the same episode. Obviously, there was a lot of picking and choosing when it came to what plot points they kept and what they scrapped, and it did do a number on some of the characters' development, but the episodes they chose to keep were important ones, and they managed to weave them together surprisingly well.

And now, the negatives...

Episode 1 - The setup is dreadful. The show starts with a solid 20 minutes of backstory. Before you even meet Sokka and Katara, you know literally all the details about the air nomad genocide. And because they show you the entire genocide on screen before Aang is released from the iceberg, you don't get the experience of having it revealed to you as Aang is experiencing learning about it. His avatar state reaction to seeing Monk Gyatso's corpse just doesn't feel warranted when there's not that slow buildup to finding out about the war and Aang's denial of the whole thing. Episode 1 in general felt messy, rushed, and missing a whole lot of vital character growth.

Aang - Honestly, Aang's character in general felt flat. He gives me ipad kid vibes. He feels like a prodigy kid who just doesn't care, instead of a fun-loving goofball who 's scared of responsibility. He makes so many quips about not paying attention to the monks or falling asleep during meditations, and while it's not like he was super studious in the original, the thing he's doing to avoid studying is goofing around. Playing pranks with Monk Gyatso instead of paying attention to the monks. goofing off in a river with Sokka instead of learning waterbending. He's so un-silly in the live action and it's to his detriment. I guess this is just a part of the 8-episode curse, but because those filler moments have to be erased, you really lose out on all of Aang's stupid kid shenanigans.

Katara - Katara fell so damn flat, which is such a tragedy. I saw someone else on here talking about how the lack of Aang helping her be a kid again in episode 1 took away a lot from her, and they are totally right! Specifically, it took a ton away from the bond the two of them have. Really, there's no reason why Katara should have traveled with Aang in the first place. She didn't bond with him over riding animals, or help him understand what happened in the last hundred years (Gran Gran takes care of all that exposition...), and they don't even head towards the northern water tribe to find a waterbending master until after Kyoshi Island, so that's not why she chose to come either. Katara is also missing her whole "had to become the mom after her mom died" schtick. Not that she should be reduced to group mom, but that's still a part of her original character. She got plenty of backstory regarding her mom, but it was mostly grief. There was a little sprinkling of her sense of justice in there, but that's another one of those "victim of the 8-episode curse" things. So much of her character got lost when the filler was cut that there's not that much left over.

The spirit world - I know I just said I liked what they did combining episodes together, but honestly I think they tried to do too much with the spirit world episode. They use the Hei Bai episode to get into the spirit world, but the whole burned forest plot from the original is pretty much scrapped for a Koh plot, which combines the original Koh plot with the fog of lost souls from Korra, and the mother of faces from the sequel comics? The spirit world episode ties to Roku, like in the original, but Roku barely does anything outside of info only important to that episode. Out of all the avatars Aang contacts, Roku is the least relevant. Kuruk is more relevant than Roku. The bit with Monk Gyatso was sweet, but it did feel like one more thing on top of an already cluttered episode. Also, I don't love that Yue was a fox in the spirit world, it felt kinda out of left field. I didn't love what they did with Yue and Sokka in general, their whole vibe felt rushed.

Final thoughts, obviously it wasn't incredible. It's a show that doesn't really need or want to exist. They stuffed the first season of a cartoon with notoriously thorough writing into 8 episodes. But I didn't hate it. Honestly, I was pretty entertained. I fully intend on seeing season 2. I want to see what they're gonna do with Azula moving forward, how they're gonna handle Toph, and what the fuck they meant by "there actually is no war in ba sing se" bc clearly there was a fucking war in ba sing se, Iroh nearly gets crushed by a boulder by a vengeful soldier over it. I came into this with rock bottom expectations, and I was pleasantly surprised

#atla #live action atla #live action avatar #avatar the last airbender #inarticulate ramblings

[officialgleamstar]

:3 Any class (and subclass) headcanons/ideas/theories for Lark? Vaguely related, I can't stop thinking about the fact the he just whistled up a fucking portal last episode?????

i have always assumed lark was a ranger, which is one reason why i was so flabbergasted by grant being the kiddads' ranger. i still think he should be a ranger, a horizon walker ranger specifically, even if it would be dumb and unbalanced for them to have two rangers. literally it makes the most sense. lark is the most ranger guy ever. however, i already made a full post about ranger subclasses for grant, including the reasoning for horizon walker that also applies to lark (namely what you said - WHISTLING TO SUMMON A PORTAL? HORIZON WALKER TYPE SHIT.) SO i will delve into some different ideas instead

if he's not a ranger, then i would guess that he is a fighter, battle master subclass, or a rogue, assassin subclass, with likelihood (in my opinion!) being in that order. thats the tldr. heres the long version LOL:

fighter - fighters are known for being able to wield a wide array of weapons, which makes sense for lark, since he is such a doomsday prepper. he would want to be able to use any weapon he got his hands on. also, indomitable fits lark really well in my opinion. if we wanna talk gear, i'd probably give him chainmail (flavored as bullet-proof vest), two martial weapons (two daggers), a light crossbow and 20 bolts (flavored as a pistol and ammo), and the pack i'm not sure on. i dont think im gonna do gear on every single class but its just part of being a fighter to me to consider that-- subclass wise, we have a few options, listed in order of most to least likely (subjective.)

battle master - the most likely one to me, though now that sparrow seems to be set up as more of the leader than lark, that might change (though i do think that maybe sparrow just takes the head in talking since he's more. uh. sociable than everyone else rn LOL). given how much enemies monologue in dndads, 'know your enemy' would be a super useful skill, and i think if he was spec'd out similar to gerard from neverafter (mostly in the ability to grant other players extra attacks), this would make a lot of sense for him.

champion - listing this because on a meta-level, its extremely easy to play, which makes it an easy pick for anthony. however, i dont think it fits him character-wise because lark would never heal himself LMAO though, to be fair, i dont think the kiddads will ever level up that high

arcane archer - not the best subclass, but very cool to me, and fitting for how all of the kiddads are gun-heavy. banishing arrow would be super useful and fit the general theme of planes and dimensions.

eldritch knight - not as likely, but i think it would be sooo so cool for lark, especially if the eldritch part came from his connection to the doodler. ohhh the drama of gaining power from the eldritch being you swore to eradicate… plus, we get LARK CASTING MAGIC, even if its not as powerful as anything his family can do! so cool!!! this subclass isnt as good for range, but i could see anthony allowing war magic to apply to ranged weapons rather than just blades for the cool factor.

samurai - in general, this subclass is not lark. however, i wanted to mention it because i think their 18th level ability 'strength before death' specifically is very lark. basically, if you get knocked down to zero HP, you can use a reaction to get an entire turn and then you go into death saves. theoretically, you could use this to heal, but its lark - he absolutely would use it to go down swinging.

rogue - other people have made this point for me, but rogues are good for guns if you flavor hand crossbows as such. i actually dont really like rogue for lark, but i dont have a reason why LOL it just doesnt really? do it for me. however, i agree that its likely to fit due to what we know about lark, so i will play my own personal devil's advocate here. i think it makes sense for lark to be the sneaky attacker while the others draw most of the attention, especially since it seems like there would be three magic users (terry jr, nicky, and sparrow) in the group. magic can be used sneakily, but im sure nicky and sparrow at least would lean towards showiness, lol. plus, i think it would be really interesting to flavor 'slippery mind' as like, lark growing a resistance to the doodler after so many years under its influence! once again, subclasses are listed most likely to least likely.

assassin - this works from both an in-character and a meta standpoint, and from what i've seen, this is what people mean when they say lark should be a rogue. its an easy subclass to play, so its good for an NPC. character-wise, with lark's extreme paranoia, it makes sense that lark would spend time studying how to most efficiently kill people. he doesn't want to risk anyone in a drawn-out fight, he's not grant. he just wants things dead as fast as possible.

scout - am i just saying this one is likely being its the ranger-flavored rogue subclass? maybe. but like liSTEN LARK SHOULD BE A RANGER HE IS LITERALLY A RANGER HE IS-

phantom - not very likely, but SEVERELY COOL from a character standpoint. walk with me here. phantom is a rogue subclass where you talk to the dead, but imagine that reflavored as lark being able to talk to like, eldritch beings, even beyond the doodler? or like, maybe the spirits of those killed and used by the doodler? holy SHIT!! it would be COOL.

unfortunately none of this has an explanation on lark whistling a portal Which Is Why He Is A Horiz- [shot] im guessing he has a magical item tho!!!

#babacontainsmultitudes #dndads #ask #meta #sorry this took so long to answer but. fighter took me 40 mins on this HFJKGHDKJ #I HAVE THOUGHTS ON SUBCLASSES. #chugs wine and talks about dnd subclasses. ideal thursday night #originally i listed monk as well but had to admit to myself that that was unlikely and just me yearning bgfhjgbhjdfbghjd

[fictionaltrvlr]

I had an ask from @curiousnonny that i accidentally deleted, but here it is anyway 😅

Ask: What happened in the Career districts, why would they volunteer for a life or death battle? Do you think this is a parallel to real life?

I definitely think it parallels our current society! Collins said that she came up with the idea wile flipping between channels of reality tv and the invasion of Iraq, and I definitely see both of these as parallels to why the Careers would volunteer.

First, and not so serious, the reality tv angle. Reality tv is so diverse, we have a lot of fairly harmless ones. But we also have a lot that have made us question the ethical implications.

Recently, Jury Duty, where this poor guy was basically Truman Show’d in real life and has stated that it’s been hard for him to move on and that he feels like he’s always being watched and followed. And also the ‘real life’ Squid Games which is currently being discussed, due to the living conditions and lack of compensation most of the tributes contestants, experienced. And of course, the classics, like Fear Factor.

People will put themselves in really weird, dangerous, and at the very least emotionally hazardous situations simply for the promise of a cash reward and fame.

Secondly, more darkly, is the war/military component. Young people are both drafted and volunteer to fight in conflicts that they often don’t fully understand. We can look both in history and to current conflicts and wonder how so many people could support something that to us looks obviously wrong or cruel. But as a society we are often blinded by patriotism.

Even looking at the way the military is, we have so much propaganda geared towards young people about how they will be heroes and welcomed home as such. However, just look at veterans. They often don’t have access to the mental health services they need to cope with their trauma. Many veterans end up homeless because they can’t work a steady job as a direct result of their service.

I think both of these factors go into why the Careers would volunteer. They fell for the shine and the lie that they would return from the games as heroes and be free and almost royalty for the rest of their lives. And yes, they received riches and fame, but at what cost? Mockingjay really highlights how they continued to be used; their lives were not their own.

And I think that’s the same way it is today. People’s lives are often ruined by fame, they never really have privacy again, they are mercilessly mocked by the internet.

And in a more serious vein, those who literally risk their lives often come home to regret their actions, feel they were fighting for a wrong cause, or they end up being be discarded by the very government that used them and promised them a hero’s legacy (the life of a victor, if you will), and now they have to live with pain for the rest of their lives.

The Hunger Games is a brilliant criticism of our society.

#the hunger games #thg #the careers #career districts #the hunger games analysis #curiousnonny #asks and replies #thoughts on things