#leverage has broken my brain
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Damnit I can't eat apples without thinking about Eliot saying "I love Apples! Apples are my favorite fruit!"
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Yooo, your plug!sukuna x reader fic has got me so feral imgggg
And it got me thinking
imagine Yuuji and Sukuna double teaming you???
this is not canon buuuuuuuuuuuuuuut... it is hot so hope u like this hehe
warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, incest (itadori bro's sharing u), double penetration (one hole), degradation, praise, cheating mention, bruising, hair pulling, oral fixation, daddy kink mention, spanking, squirting, creampie.
words: 1.1k
“B-Baby I- fuck. How could y-ou? Fuck him of all- all people?” Yuuji wonders, fingers gripping into your sides deeply. You’re bound to bruise. With the way he’s fucking you and squeezing into your supple flesh, you can practically feel the broken blood vessels forming purple blooms with every thrust into your squelching cunt.
It isn’t deliberate.
He just wants you to remember who you belong to.
“’m sorry!” you cry, tears pelting down onto the mattress below as he batters your interior again and again. “I didn’t mean t’ fuck him.. I didn’t—!”
“Aht aht. None of that,” Sukuna speaks, his fingers lacing through your hair and yanking enough to elicit a pained yelp from you. Your eyes shimmer as you they reflect the stare of red irises that have become so easy to manipulate you. “Wasn’t like that when you were crying for me to ruin you, was it? In fact…” he pulls out his phone and quickly finds the home made sex tape he’d made without asking.
“D-Don’t…” you sob, though you don’t have it in you to really fight him. He pushes his thumb by the seam of your lips in a bid to shut you up. And in your cock drunk, dazed state, you begin to suck like a baby with a pacifier. You clench around Yuuji as the video begins to play and you hear how loud you’re moaning for your boyfriend’s elder brother. The sex was phenomenal and you’ll never forget it for as long as you live. “Remember this? Hm?” he questions as he swipes to a certain point of the video.
“Want you to br-uuise my c-cervix, daddy.”
You scream, a trail of drool connecting his thumb to your tongue as you can’t help yourself when Yuuji spanks your ass. He’s seen it before, of course, but it doesn’t make it any easier. God you sound desperate, and in that moment, you were.
“Think it’s okay to f-fuck my brother? Huh? You were meant to say no.” he reminds you. He pulls your back into his chest and holds each of your wrists in his hands and keeps them near the small of your back. And he uses them, for leverage, as he fucks his length into your weeping slit. “Beggin’ for him to bruise your cervix like that? Had no idea what a little slut you were. You want him to fuck you again, don’t you?”
“N-No!” you lie. You’d love Sukuna to ravage you again. To make a complete mess of your insides and churn your brain into mush. You don’t want to think about anything but getting destroyed by him and Yuuji.
You feel so spoilt.
Sukuna doesn’t say a word as he gets closer to you. His length runs through your folds and nudges your clit as Yuuji keeps you pinned in place. Your face twinkles as the light reflects off of your tear stricken cheeks.
Yuuji slows down as Sukuna helps you angle your hips.
Though you aren’t sure how it’s only just dawning on you now what is happening.
Sukuna’s heavy mushroom tip begins to split your cunt further open. Each yelp and cry silenced by Yuuji as he smothers your mouth and whispers into your ear.
“Shhhh, baby, you can take him. You’ve done it before, yeah? Good girl, sh sh sh…” he consoles you. His hands grope your tits and his lips smother your neck and shoulder in soft kisses as he tries to distract you from the stinging stretch being inflicted upon you. “That’s it… good fucking girl… you can take us both, yeah? You wan’ us to fuck you stupid, yeah?”
You hum, unsure if you’re agreeing or not. Nothing is really making sense when all you can focus on is the fact you’re somehow accommodating two Itadori cocks at once.
“Look at you… elastic little cunt.” Sukuna snarls, laughing as he drinks in the sight of you being double stuffed like a porn star. He grabs his phone, taking a quick picture so that Yuuji can see the view he’s seeing.
“Woah… you’re so good, baby. Takin’ us so well.” he praises, kissing the skin behind your ear before slowly rolling his hips again.
“Don’t fucking praise her yet, haven’t even moved.” Sukuna starts, his hips begin to move too. Their thrusts are off beat and your heart begins to pound. You aren’t getting a break to get used to the feeling. The tempo of their mismatched thrusts has your vision whiting out. Your head lolls backwards onto Yuuji’s shoulder as they continue to ruin you, and you swear you can’t breathe.
You aren’t sure if you’re even there.
“M-Maybe we should slow down,” Yuuji tells Sukuna, his hips already slowing before he finishes his sentence.
“Fuck that.” Sukuna grabs your jaw and forces you to look at him. Drool spills from your lips and your eyes can’t focus. But he knows you’re listening and he knows you’re looking. You’re in there somewhere, enjoying this. “We already know you’re a whore so don’t act shy now.”
“’m g’na c-um.” you manage to squeak out even in your dazed state. “H-aah!” you struggle, but your pussy does all the talking for you. The sound of liquid spilling out of you is deafening. The suctioning and squelching sounds that follow are just as boisterous as they continue to pound into you. And just as you think your high is drawing to a close, their sloppy thrusts pick up the pace.
Another stream of liquid gushes from your cunt as they abuse your sweet spot in independently. Your head falls forward onto Sukuna’s chest, now. And he uncharacteristically cradles the crown of your head as you rest there.
Yuuji lets go of the singular wrist he’s still holding so he can focus on fucking into you. And he does, loudly. His moans are raucous as he empties his balls into your greedy hole.
Sukuna soon follows, hissing through his teeth as he spills his seed soon after his brother. None of you want to move, least of all you. You’re still clenching around them both while you rest against Sukuna’s chest. Yuuji begins to kiss at your shoulder, telling you how perfect and beautiful you are. And you shudder when his kisses trail down the column of your spine.
The elder brother is silent as he pants, stroking your hair repeatedly as he contemplates what just happened. But he hurriedly moves his hand away when he sees Yuuji look up at him.
“Knew she could take us,” he smirks. “Your girlfriend’s a perfect little whore.”
© 2023 rinhaler
#💌 — luxe mail#📨 — requests#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#sukuna x reader#sukuna smut#sukuna ryomen x reader#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu#jjk x fem!reader#tw:incest#tw degradation#tw praise#tw cheating#tw hair pulling
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low | ellie williams
summary: ellie has been and always will be on top, the dominant one. but when reader asserts her control, ellie can’t help but fold a little. basically ellie x dom! fem reader. (written from ellie's pov)
warnings: slight choking, name-calling (teasing), slapping, r receiving, r riding, strap-on sex, pet names, subtop! ellie x dombottom! reader, no use of y/n, if i forget anything pls lmk, 18+ (minors PLS dni.)
word count: 2,592
A/N: hi i havent written in so long and i cant stop reading ellie fics atm so i figured why not! plus i feel like there's a shortage of dom! fem reader fics out there. i just thought it would be a different reading experience to almost be in ellie's head, pretend ur reading her journal or sum fr. all that being said i hope you enjoy!! pls lmk if you do!! and a big ty to @elliewill for all her help and motiv when i was writing and debating this fic, i love her so bad.
i'm in charge, always. in charge of pleasing her, fucking her, loving her; in charge of her. the power complex when she's beneath me while i pound into her, getting to watch her face as the only sound she can make isn't even moaning. just short, open-mouthed gasps and whimpers, her eyes always locked with mine. her eyes would feel like they were nearly piercing into my brain like two damn fucking ice picks.
it only made me want more. more power, more of her. the way her eyes would hold their gaze on mine, even when the pleasure would threaten her to squeeze them shut; or go half-lidded. which was so unbelievably fucking hot to watch, knowing i was the reason for that- i needed her to look at me. i needed to know that she knew who was in charge, who was doing this to her, and who was making her feel so good. so i could know i was that person. who owned her, and fucked her so well she could barely keep her pretty eyes open. or her mouth closed. one of my hands began to travel, the journey starting from one of her thighs that i had pressed into her abdomen as i fucked her, not forgetting to drag the pads of my fingers over her skin; knowing how she reacted- and loving the feel of her shiver beneath them when she did react. the journey ended at her neck, one of my favorite places of her to hold. especially during times like these. i had a hold on her, physically and metaphorically. i threatened a squeeze, smirking softly as her pretty little lips parted when i did. those perfect lips, that were glazed from her drool, and mine. those lips that she couldn't keep shut, but could only let those heavenly fucking sounds out of. the sounds of encouragement, the sounds that i caused her to make. a short gasp fell from those damned lips of hers when i threatened the squeeze. i leaned in even more, my own lips barely touching hers, but enough for her to whimper against mine. it killed me knowing she whimpered, just for me. just for a fucking kiss from me. i began to speak, wanting to hear more of those pretty little praises. whether by sounds or words, despite knowing the words would probably be broken; but that made it even better. “yeah baby? you love me fucking you, ‘feels good, yeah?”
“yeah.. it feels good fucking me, doesn't it, baby?”
my grip on her neck loosened for a moment, more so fucking slipped. i let out a wry laugh to disguise the clearing i needed to do for my throat, nearly choking over what i just heard. i squeezed her throat this time, using her neck as leverage to pull her face to mine. baby? is she fucking with me? her face was smug once we were face to face, i couldn't tell if i was feeling her pulse on my palm or my own fucking heart pounding. baby. why did she sound so fucking hot-
“you okay, baby?” she spoke again. jesus fucking christ. her delicate hand trailed up my forearm, i knew she was watching my face to see if i'd give in. cave into her touch, her words; her. she stopped at my wrist, and my grip on her neck was merely even a hold at this point- and she used it to her advantage. she lifted my hand slowly, placing my thumb between those fucking lips of hers. the same lips that were making me so fucking weak with their words. “`m fine.” i mumbled, maybe stuttered. i knew i didn't look it, but i was so ready to just fucking collapse. and she knew it.
“you sure?” she asked again, the plump skin of her lips brushing against the pad of my thumb when she spoke. i can't fucking do this shit. i hadn't even realized i had stopped moving, or lost my grip on those delicious fucking thighs of hers. but she did.
oh and did she use it to her advantage. she took those thighs and pulled me in again, locking me in with her. i couldn't hold back the groan, i was holding it in for too long at this point. her words, her voice, her fucking lips.. the pressure against me from the fucking harness of the strap when she pulled me in. everything. i dropped my face into the crook of her neck. too ashamed to even face her. god does not fucking give his toughest battles to his strongest soldiers.
“ohhh, c’mon baby…” she fucking cooed. i just pressed my lips to her neck, trying to keep together any fucking amount of dignity i had left. if i were ever to whimper- so help me god. she fucking giggled. i suppose the hitch of my breath when my hands practically shook against her waist; was not keeping my act together.
within seconds i was being pushed onto my back, my own hands getting thrown at my sides. she crawled right onto my lap, her thighs on either side of mine, caging me in. i was absolutely fucking gone. i threw my hands up, my biceps staying against the bed. “babe.” i managed to get out, my eyes probably looking fucking wild. do i look at her face, her tits, her? she had rode me before, just not.. like this. “what is it, baby?” she said so fucking casually. like it was just some ordinary fucking question. is she fucking insane?
“noth.. nothin’.” i said through a shaky breath, real fucking dominant ellie. my eyes darted back and forth between her own, and her hips as she took me in again. that perfectly tight little cunt of hers sliding both of us right back into place. i bit down on my lip, leaning my head back into the pillow and just staring at the ceiling. i was gone.
a few throaty moans escaped my lips. a sound i rarely let happen. get it to-fucking-gether. the pressure on me from her bouncing on the stupid fucking cock, the sheer sight of her fucking herself on me like the little fucking slut she was. i could barely even watch her, i'd embarrassed myself enough. all i could do was let a hand run up her thigh, too weak even to caress it the way i usually would. i stopped at her hip, those perfect round hips she moved so fucking well for me. she had the power now. she had power over me.
“you like watching me fuck you, huh baby? so fucking dirty-” she spoke almost brokenly, but the words. the words. i think i let out a choke from them. if she ever knew how close to the edge i was right now. so close to soaking through the thin cotton of my fucking boxers. just from this and the friction, i’d never fucking hear the end of it. maybe i wanted to listen to it, though.
“mm- mhm. watching.. watching you take me s-so fucking good baby…”
she froze, stopping all her movements. those eyes piercing mine once again. oh fuck.
“did you just fucking stutter?” she said with that smug little fucking look, i could practically hear a laugh in her throat. she tilted her head, slowly leaning down to be face to face. i'm fucking gone. i furrowed my brows when i looked back to her. keep your fucking composure ellie. get it together. “no.” i practically choked on the syllable, my hand on her hip slipping slightly. she just gave me a smirk, that slutty little, smug, fucking smirk.
“fuck.”
it was all i could say- whimpered, when she jutted her hips forward, if she didn't know i was on the brink before, she sure as fuck did now. my hands had dropped at this point, i had to of looked like such a fucking fool. i couldn't even keep my eyes open at this point, but i had to. i couldn't miss seeing her like this. being such a slut and owning it. owning me. she looked so fucking hot right now, taking me in and out of that tight cunt effortlessly, her hair thrown to one side, her perfect fucking tits bouncing with every jut of her hips. and she was all fucking mine, and clearly, i was all fucking hers.
i squeezed my eyes shut, unsure of how else to hide how fucking close i was. how fucking close i was to letting go into my fucking boxers beneath the goddamned harness of the strap she was fucking herself on. i kept my eyes shut, unable to look at her knowing what i was about to fucking do. how fucking embarrassing.
until i felt that sweet little hand of hers on my neck, her touch gentle and her skin soft. my eyes were jutting open, as much as they even could, if they weren't rolling fucking backward already. i whined. how fucking pathetic.
“babe-”
i tried to speak, only to be cut off by a smack on my fucking cheek. from the same dainty hand that was just on my neck. and i fucking moaned. the sting of it. the fucking sting that came from that sweet hand of hers.
“i want you to look at me when you cum.”
and i nearly did right there. she knew what she was doing, what i was trying not to do, the entire fucking time. i just gave her a nod, too embarrassed of what would come out sound or word-wise if i were to fucking speak. usually, i’d be ravenous at this point for her to fucking cum, abusing that cute clit of hers while she bounced on me. until she gushed around me and collapsed. but that's the last possible thing i could even fathom doing right now, she was waiting on me. fucking herself to the brink. fucking me to the verge of insanity, it felt like.
“what a fuckin’ pussy..” she muttered through her heavenly fucking moans, shooting me a smirk. and i let out a fucking gasp. a fucking throaty, wimpy, loser-like fucking gasp.. a whimper.
i knew she was nearing her end, the way her hips twitched at the end of every hip thrust, the way she began to slouch towards me. i just wanted to fucking touch her, and i couldn't.
but she was fucking herself.
“you like watching me play with my little clit, baby-”
fuck.
she was starting to lose again.
“you're so fuckin’ hot, baby..” i finally managed to speak coherently. barely. my eyes darted down to what she was doing, taking my chance when she tilted her head back from the euphoria. those pretty digits of her’s making circles over her clit, so wet her slick had them glistening. god. she looked so fucking pretty like that, using me as a fucking toy. fucking herself into euphoria. so much of a slut for me that my cock wasn't enough. she needed even more.
that hand of hers that had slapped me, that nearly had me coming, amongst other things; still on my cheek. anytime my eyes fluttered shut, she'd give the skin of my cheek beneath her palm a smack. reminding me of what she wanted from me. this tap, she wanted something else. those fingers she had on that clit of hers just mere seconds ago, now being dragged down on my lower lip, tugging it when she did. teasting me with the essence of her cunt that i loved so much. it took everything i had in me not to give in and suck on them like some little bitch, yearning to taste that sweet shine on them.
i wasn't that weak, though.
“go ahead. suck ‘em off, baby. just like my little mouth does on that big fucking cock of yours.”
nevermind.
and i did. wrapping my lips around those two fingers, stabilizing myself by wrapping my hand around her wrist. being a little bitch, her little bitch. i knew i must have looked like one too. sucking the juices of that delicious pussy of hers off of her fingers, latched onto them like i was fucking dehydrated and hadn't had a damn drink in days.
“this must be how pretty i look.. huh? when i'm suck- sucking your dick.”
there she was.
she slipped. if we were in any other situation, i would've caught it. but she did. of course, she did. so she snatched her sweet fingers away, wrapping them around my jaw to cover that slip-up that showed how weak she still was. like i should be fucking talking. to keep my eye contact locked with hers, those gorgeous fucking eyes.
“gonna… gonna cum all over your fucking cock, baby,” she said through broken moans and her pretty little sounds, continuing to fuck as much out of that silicone as she could take. without my relentless ‘help,’ she couldn't take as much. but she was taking it “so good.. my fuck.. fuckin’ whore..” her eyes were glued to mine. the contact unbreakable. like something was holding the connection of us together so fucking well. and there was; pure fucking lust. she knew how badly i wanted to watch. watch her slick shining all over my cock every time she moved up on it, watch it pool at the base of it. soak those perfect fucking thighs, knowing i'd clean it all up for her after.
she was losing.
but fucking so was i.
she let out one loud moan, gasping as she began to tremble, her hand that was once on my neck dragging down to my abdomen. clutching on for dear fucking life. i let out a grunt when her face was down, letting her fuck herself through her orgasm. “so fucking good, baby..” i said as i watched her, hiding my own trembling with hers. i was sure my lip would be fucking bruised from how hard i was biting it. my hands slipping down her hips yet again, still wanting to keep her precious body stable and safe while we, she came. i am no better than a man.
the skin of my abdomen beneath her fingers, now indented with crescent shapes from her damn nails. a wet spot from slick on the base of the strap.
and beneath it.
she collapsed onto my chest, her chest rising with every fall of my own. our bodies fitting together like two puzzle pieces that created a perfect picture. i threw an arm around her back as she lifted her hips off with a short breath, allowing me to pull out.
and there she was, there i was. fucked, literally. I tightened my arm around her back, her sweet body curling against mine when i did, dancing the pads of my fingers along her ribs.
she nestled her cheek into the valley of my chest, her sweet fingers dancing up the strap of my sports bra. “hey.” i spoke up, lifting my hand from her side to brush some wispy hairs from her temple, some of them stuck to her sticky skin. she looked up to me, using my chest as a pillow for her chin. that pretty face, all mine.
“you really think i'm a pussy?” i quirked as i looked down to her.
a beat.
“i mean.. you are what you eat.”
“speaking of.”
i smirked. i had a mess to clean up.
#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams smut#ellie williams x you#ellie williams x female reader#ellie williams#ellie williams x y/n#tlou x reader#tlou#tlou2#tlou smut#ellie williams oneshot#ellie william x afab!reader#the last of us#the last of us smut#ellie williams x reader smut#tlou ellie williams
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you should totally write finnick angst!!!! Idk if this makes sense but maybe you can write about how the reader was taken to the capitol along with peeta and johanna and when she comes back she’s terrified of finnick because she was shown and told that he was dead
Reader has trouble distinguishing what’s real and what’s not since she was told everyone in 13 was dead
But Finnick does everything he can to help her and eventually gets her back
I HOPE IT MAKES SENSE ITS BEEN ON MY MIND FOR A WHILEEE
Also you are amazing 🫶🫶
Love you better - Finnick Odair x fem!reader
summary: reader is rescued from the Capitol and brought to district 13, where Finnick lies in waiting to welcome his love back in his arms, only her mind is warped and washed and Finnick must fight to keep her.
Finnick Odair who is down in the weapons defence unit, assisting Beetee with designing a new trident when he catches word of a rescue party returning from the Capitol. Of course his brain scrambles to his love. His poor, sweet love who he let out of his sight in what he, at the time, had no idea would be the last hour of the 75th Hunger Games. When he had woken up in the hovercraft, aching all over from the electric volts, he had a bittersweet feeling nesting in his chest. Everything had gone to plan, right? But no… something was wrong. He remembered his eyes darting around the hovercraft, searching desperately for her. But his sweet girl was not here, and sitting down with Haymitch and Plutarch only confirmed his worst suspicions. The Capitol had her, she was not safe, and even worse he felt an inescapable guilt. This was his fault. Snow had taken her to use as leverage against him, he knew it. He had lost track of the days since he had lost her, lost track of the tears and the amount of times he thought of his lovely girl. His mind had drowned in a haze of the colour of her eyes and the little knots he made in pieces of rope; he made sure there was no room for anything else.
He blinked back into reality when he feels a gentle tap on his shoulder; spinning around, he’s greeted once again with Haymitch. The uncharacteristically sober man is sporting a half-smile, something that clears Finnick’s mind slightly. Surely if Haymitch is glad, it can’t be bad news? “She’s safe, she’s alive,” Haymitch’s tone is decisive as if he’s picking his words carefully, stepping on eggshells to avoid Finnick’s newfound distress. “I thought you’d want to see her.” The bronze-haired man finds himself nodding frantically before Haymitch’s gruff voice even finishes his suggestion. Within seconds, he’s panting outside of District Thirteen’s medical unit. He stood straight for a while, chest rising and falling rapidly as he prepares himself for the moments to come. Would she run into his arms? Cower away from him? He hoped not. He thought his heart would break at the sight. He pushes through the doors before he can double think it, doctors recognising him and leading him to one of the private, solitary rooms. This was it. His sweet girl was in here, either eager to see him or broken and disheartened by the Capitol. Finnick took a deep breath and pushed the door open, stepping inside as quietly as he could, and closing the heavy door. She looked terrible. His gorgeous girl with her radiant skin, bright eyes and vibrant laugh barely looked like herself anymore. Her face was almost gaunt, and her skin draped along her, now, prominent cheekbones. She looked up at him, those eyes he loved so very much miserable but with a certain curiosity that made him hope that what they had between them could still be salvaged. The Capitol hadn’t ruined them yet.
A soft and meek voice spoke up, dull eyes analysing him carefully. “…Finnick,” His lips curl up at the sound of his name. God, how he had missed hearing his boring old name pouring like honey from those lovely lips. He took another deep breath, desperate to not scare her into retreat. “hi, honey.” Finnick spoke carefully, his tone gentle as he stood still, the doctors who had consulted him earlier had advised him to make minimum movement as to not distress her further. She stared at him silently for a second, hesitating as her pretty eyebrows furrowed. “I thought you were dead,” it was his turn to furrow his eyebrows. Hadn’t anyone thought to let her know that he was alive and well? He grimaced at her sadly, he had no idea what to say to her. Finnick had planned out their reunion thousands of times in his head over the past couple of months, and yet here she was, sat right in front of him, and he was at a loss for words. He took a few moments to pick out his words, trying to get his point across as simply as he could without confusing her pretty little head further. The man felt his heart swell with all the yearning he had endured for her recently as she reached out for him, wanting nothing but the comfort of his touch. Finnick stepped forward carefully, taking her outstretched hand in his as he stood near the side of the uncomfortable bed. She mumbled to herself, unknowingly breaking his heart as she did. “S’confused, Finnick. Had no idea whether you were alive, all I wanted was to see you.” He squeezed her hand at her confession, wanting nothing more than to soothe her lost mind. All these months he had been so angry at the Capitol for taking his sweet girl from him. Finnick was not angry now, he knew anger had no use. He had to be tender with his love, patient especially when she could not decipher the truth.
He sat down beside her gently, still holding onto her cold hand. She brought her knees up to her chest, gazing at him as if he was the only one who could rehang the stars for her. Finnick rubbed a comforting thumb across her knuckles murmuring sweet phrases of reassurance. “You’re alright now, sweet girl, I’m gonna get you well again” he meant it. He was willing to do anything to make sure that his lovely girl would go back to the sunshine she had once been. Finnick would stand with her through what was the truth and what was the capitol’s truth, sorting through her tampered memories tirelessly. She surged forward, embracing him tightly, saying a million things and yet nothing at the same time. The embrace meant trust, meant vulnerability but at the same time he knew that it would take time to work through this, time that he was willing to put in. He snaked his arms tightly around her waist, supporting her in a fragile moment that Finnick would not let the Capitol take from them. “We’ll get you better, sweetheart. No matter what it takes” yes, he was going to fix this for her. He was going to make sure his sweet girl could bare her teeth in every smile yet again, that she could squeal and splash him, giggling all the while, as he dunked her under the sea’s surface back home in their beloved District 4. He was going to get her back.
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Taylor Hebert AKA Skitter Propaganda Post
Do you know what you have to do to hurt someone in a fight if your whole power is “controls bugs?” It’s never pleasant. And this is a girl with an almost pathological drive to fight people theoretically much stronger than her. Much maggots-in-eyes and spiders-on-dicks ensue. Committed to being a hero initially, ends up becoming warlord of a whole city while defending it from super-poweeed spree killers, monstrous kaiju, and timeline-severing mobsters. Saves humanity through mass mind-control.
Shes so fucking morally ambiguous I don't even know where to start. She wanted to be a hero and then over the course of 1.7 million words she tricked me into thinking she was rational and ethically sound when she cut out someone's eyes, held someone's dying son hostage in front of them as leverage (she was killing the son), put maggots in someone else's eyes to eat them slowly, shot a fucking toddler with no hesitation, and she's such an amazing unreliable narrator that you root for her. She's genuinely so good at convincing herself that she's morally sound that she convinces the reader of it as well most of the time, but despite the atrocities (and there's a fucking ton of atrocities) she's genuinely a girl who wants to do good and help the world. She fights serial killers, provides food and water and shelter for people who need it, gets her back broken trying to save people, and is generally willing to do whatever it takes to help no matter what that entails. She's a girlboss who is terrifying and determined enough to kill god, she's willing to do anything for the greater good, she has a fucking orphanage as the bottom floor of her supervillain lair. She's so so complicated and such a twist of good and brutality and I cannot stress enough how compelling and morally ambiguous and girlboss she is. I have never seen a character who fits the title "morally ambiguous girlboss" more in my entire life and frankly I doubt I will, no one does it like her.
she went from aspiring hero > supervillain > warlord (still a supervillain) > hero > mind-controlling every cape in the multiverse to kill god. and she did kill god. so. girlboss. but on her first night out she used her bugs to bite a man's dick off. that man? trying to kill kids. those kids? teenage supervillains. she initially joined their teen supervillain group to betray them to the heroes, then joins for real. their boss kidnapped a preteen girl and got said girl addicted to drugs. he used a heist taylor was in as a distraction to kidnap the girl. taylor becomes a warlord and does all sorts of awful things to the other gangs in the city (including putting maggots in a guys eyes, and carving another man's eyes out (bug dick guy) (everything grew back)). the reason she did this? so she could kill her boss and free the preteen girl. She's taken over the city at this point, she's a warlord running a supervillain gang. what's she doing with this power? improving the city's infrastructure. she runs her territory like a panopticon, if anybody who can work isn't working they get the bugs. she's also running an orphanage out of her home. she decides to step down as warlord and join the heroes. while she's in custody, what does she do? that's right. kill superman via dry land drowning in bugs. now she's a superhero. she does stakeouts and pursues gangs to force their younger/more sympathetic members into superheroism. why? to fight the end of the world. the end of the world comes, god is killing every earth in the multiverse and things aren't looking good. what does taylor do? she asks a bio-kinetic who got sent to supervillain alcatraz for sister rape to give her on-the-spot brain surgery. this brain surgery lets her control any person within like 18 feet of her. she uses a portal guy to manage to ensnare every cape in the multiverse and unite them in her fight against god. One cape has a stress induced aneurysm. how do they ultimately defeat god? she makes large-scale replicas of his dead wife everywhere, making him so sad he becomes killable. girlboss. (sorry this was so long! i started and then just kept going. worm is 1.68 million words long and a lot happens in it)
Holy Shit. Holy SHIT dude. She rotted a man's dick off with spider venom. and then she did it again (it grew back). and then she cut his eyes out. this is the first guy she meets. she mutilates *so many* people. one time she withheld a life-saving epinephrine shot from a dying man (he was allergic to bees. she controls bees.) as extortion material. she shoots a baby (it was a mercy). She cut a girl in half (which was actually pretty high up there on the "most heroic things she did" list). She was Seinfeldian rivals with the most dangerous serial killer in existence, until she trapped him in Hell Forever. He's like still there by the end of the second book. she kills God by bullying him to death. All* of this was probably the best thing she could have done in the situation. the tagline of the book is "doing the wrong things for the right reasons." The worst thing she ever really did was to pretend she was straight though.
Did she kill an orphan? Yes. Did she put maggots into a man’s eyes? Yes. Did she do all of this while having intense homoerotic tension? Yes, and that is why she is a girlboss. She also killed Jesus
https://www.tumblr.com/morally-grey-girlbosses/729188280734760960 (tumblr user @lakesbian elaborates on Taylor's Atlas Complex)
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Angel Eyes
What Gabriel lacked in refined skill, he more than made up for with sheer enthusiasm.
Rating: Explicit, NSFW 🔞
Fandom: Malignant 2021
Pairing: Gabriel May x AFAB!Reader
Word count: 610
Content warnings: Cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, praise kink, hair-pulling, begging, mild religious themes, accidental denial? I guess?, service top Gabriel, reader is AFAB but gender-neutral
AO3 link: Here
Author's Note: Y’all this idea has lived rent free in my brain for so fucking long and it’s about damn time I did something with it. My boy Gabriel has a mouth and a tongue and teeth and fingers. What more do you need? This one is short and sweet but I think it’s enough. Hope y’all enjoy <3
What Gabriel lacked in refined skill, he more than made up for with sheer enthusiasm.
A moan slipped out of your mouth. You buried your burning face into a pillow, even as the action made it harder to catch your shallow, ragged breath. And did little to muffle your next moan. The head between your legs just about purred in response, and the vibration of his voice so close to your cunt had you clenching.
“Fuck, Gabriel.” Your voice came out muffled. “Fuck, you’re good. You’re so fucking good.” You rolled your hips at the same time he placed the flat of his tongue against you. Pleasure surged through your veins. Your fingers twisted into the pillow. “F-fucking hell, God. Fuck.”
Gabriel was shaking almost as much as you were. Shivering and squirming as he ate you out like you were his last fucking meal. Sure, his lack of lips made precision harder. Made it messier, wetter. And his lack of skill only added to that. But God, you were already soaked. And his inexperience just drenched you more, made his eagerness and neediness to prove himself and pleasure you so much better. His tongue lavished your clit, dipped between your lips to drink up your leaking wetness. He spread you out between his fingers to better access you, dipping one in to thrust deep inside as he took your clit between his teeth. You writhed, moaned and chanted his name as if it was something holy, bucked your hips as heat pulsed through your gut. It was delicious, it was wet and sloppy and unskilled and fucking hot. Enough to sustain the pleasure but not enough to get you over the edge.
You don’t think he realized how fucking good that felt, too. The accidental tease, the completely unwitting denial. How the desperation tangled in the arousal heightened it all.
He pulled away, breath ghosting over your cunt. The sight of him between your legs, long hair tangled, eyes wide and glazed over, his other arm curled around your thigh, was enough to send another wave of heat tingling through you. You dropped your head back onto the pillow and sighed. “Please, Gabriel. Please.” Just please. He felt so sinfully good, and you’d gladly burn in hell for the burn of pleasure.
You must’ve spoken some part of that thought – at this point, your brain was practically melting out of your ears, and you couldn’t keep track of what you said out loud and what you didn’t. Because Gabriel pressed his teeth against the inside of your thigh, parted them to lick the skin. His equivalent of a kiss. And his voice rumbled out from the nearby speaker, “But you taste divine.”
God, it was such a saccharine, melodramatic thing to say. It made you want to ride him till you saw stars.
And as if he’d thought the same, his tongue was back on you, both arms wrapped around your thighs and leveraging you for better access. You gasped out as he circled your clit and played with the sensitive nub. Teasing, teasing, teasing. You could cry from how good it was, how good he was. You plunged your fingers into his hair and tugged. Desperately rode his tongue and chased your just-out-of-reach release. Didn’t bother to stop the moans and praise flowing out unbidden. His needy whimpers just made it sweeter, made you grow wetter and burn hotter.
His voice crackled out from the speaker again. “You look–” A broken moan that nearly had you seeing white, “–f-fucking angelic.”
And maybe he was right. How could something that felt this good be considered so sinful?
#ace writes#gabriel may#gabriel may x reader#malignant#malignant 2021#notsft#congratulations to gabriel for being the first slasher i've written more than one fic for and who isn't freddy lmao
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miasma...could you bless my eyes with some bottom swiss (i shine my autistic eyes at you)
ye
big boys ahoy
"Fuck," Swiss groans into the mattress, his prone form shuddering.
"Good?" Aether kisses the word into his shoulder. Swiss mourns the loss of the other ghoul's belly against his back when Aether straightens up.
"Yeah," he breathes, licking at a fang-dimpled lip. "So fuckin' good."
Aether has had him here for ages now, face down and stuffed with three of the other ghoul's thick fingers. Aether works him in long strokes, curling against his prostate just enough that Swiss can feel the stain he's soaking into the soft sheets. His cock throbs, blood hot where it's trapped and leaking under his stomach.
"m ready," he slurs, drunk on the way Aether's fingers pet at him. He's kneeling between Swiss's trembling thighs, his other hand lazily working the fat cock Swiss is currently in the process of demanding. "Put it in, c'mon." He doesn't have any leverage to push back onto those probing digits, fisting his hands into the sheets by his head instead. "Gimme your dick."
"You have such a way with words," Aether chuckles, pressing a spot inside that has Swiss seeing stars. "You know what you need to say."
That blessed pressure returns to Swiss's back as Aether leans down again, mouthing at Swiss's jaw. Swiss is finding that the weight of Aether on top of him does something unique to his brain. It turns off everything that isn't a point of physical contact. The warmth of Aether's skin, the softness of his belly, the brush of his chest hair. The pressure makes Swiss's nerves light up like fireworks and has every thought leaking out of his ears. He's helpless but to give Aether what he wants.
"Please," he whispers, the heaviness of Aether on his back leaving him breathless. Or maybe that's from the burning stretch of the other ghoul slipping a fourth finger inside him. Tough to say. "Please let me have it."
"See, that wasn't so hard." The hand fisting Aether's cock bumps his ass and Swiss hisses. The other ghoul hums in his ear, a pleased sound. "How do you want it?"
Swiss tries to think about it. Tries to engage his static-filled brain enough to focus on something besides the way Aether is splitting him open. On the way he can feel the other ghoul's heart pounding against his back.
He could ask for it on his knees, hard and fast and brutally satisfying. Or on his back, tugged into Aether's lap for deep, long strokes that would have him howling. Maybe Swiss should ride him, slow rolls of hips melting into bounces that would have his own cock slapping against both of their stomachs. Or maybe even -
"Well?" Aether licks a bead of sweat from Swiss's temple, crooking his fingers and chuckling at the way his eyes cross. Swiss can't keep his thoughts on track. There are too many options. "If you can't use your words, I won't know what you need." Aether tells him, and Swiss whimpers, clenching. "I'll just have to keep you like this until you can figure out an answer."
Like this.
Like this.
There's his answer.
"Like this," he pants into the mattress. Aether makes a questioning sound in his throat. Swiss gives a broken exhale at the vibration of it. "Fuck me however," the words are thick as molasses, "but stay like this." Aether shifts a little, catching Swiss's blown-out gaze with a raised brow.
"You mean on top of you?" Swiss moans low and whorish as Aether braces himself with the hand that had been on his cock, letting a bit more of his weight settle against Swiss's back. "Like this?" Swiss feels himself flush head to toe at the pained groan Aether offers when he gives a feverish nod, clenching hard.
"Yes," he rasps, grinding his neglected cock into the slick sheets. "Please Aeth, please." The weight of him soothes something unnamable and Swiss needs so much more of it. He can feel himself starting to drool, and something soft lines Aether's face.
"You look so sweet when you beg."
He presses a chaste kiss to Swiss's cheek and then pushes himself upright. The loss of his body is shocking, leaves Swiss gasping for air like a fish out of water. Aether rests a heavy hand between his shoulder blades, making soothing little sounds. Swiss feels lost without the pressure.
"Come back," he pleads, suddenly feeling on the verge of tears. He's shaking like a leaf, claws digging into the sheets. "Need it, need to feel you, I -"
"I know, I hear you," there's a subtle urgency in his voice, something that meshes with the electric buzz beneath Swiss's skin. "Just a second, try to breathe for me, okay?"
Swiss tries, sucking air through his teeth and focusing on the solid feel of Aether's hand on his back and the strong legs between his own. Aether's fingers curl inside him one last time and Swiss gives a strangled cry when the other ghoul pulls them back, hooking two just inside his rim. Swiss's stomach seizes up at the hungry sound Aether makes as he watches it gape and wink.
"So empty without me," he says, shaky and affected. Stunned. The fingers disappear entirely and Swiss lets out a hurt sob that's stifled only by the dizzying sound of Aether hastily slicking himself up. "You need to feel me everywhere, don't you?"
He slips the fat head between Swiss's cheeks, bumping against his twitching hole and planting his hands on the mattress by Swiss's ribs. Swiss arches back as best he can, starved for contact. Aether barely presses in, the slightest hint of what Swiss so desperately needs, and Swiss thinks if he doesn't hurry the fuck up he's going to burst. Aether must hear it in his pitchy whines, the other ghoul groaning and sinking into Swiss's body in one long, agonizing push.
"Tight," he breathes, "all that time stretching and you're still so tight." They both offer a shout when Aether bottoms out, leaning to rest his forehead against Swiss's spine. Aether grunts. "You take it so well," he says with unbelievable reverence. Swiss's heart swells.
"Come back," he begs again, tears clumped in his lashes. He releases his grip on the sheets to paw blindly for Aether's hand. When he finds it, he squeezes. "C'mon, Aeth, gimme all of you."
Aether makes a sound Swiss has never heard before, adding his own at the kick of Aether's cock inside him. Aether shifts gingerly, laying himself over Swiss's back and drinking in the litany of sounds pouring unbidden from Swiss's lips. Everything falls away except for the places Aether covers him - the indulgent pressure of his chest and belly over Swiss's back, the way his hips settle against Swiss's ass, the way he brings his arms up to lace their fingers together. He's pinned. Aether throbs inside him.
"How's that?" His chin is hooked over Swiss's shoulder, nosy buried in sweat-damp hair. "Better?"
Swiss makes a vague gurgling sound. His eyes won't focus, his tongue won't stay in his mouth, and there's nothing left between his ears except Aether. He manages a nod.
"Promise you'll tell me if it's too much?"
There's no chance of that. Swiss clenches tight and the pair of them huff when Aether rocks his hips. He can feel the shift of every muscle, the rise and fall of every breath, the vibration of every guttural sound Aether looses
"Promise you'll ruin me first."
Aether sounds like the air's been punched out of him. He squeezes Swiss's hands.
"I can do that."
He sets a pace that's as firm and insistent as the weight against his back, and Swiss is certain it's a promise he'll keep.
#miasma's work#the band ghost ficlets#swiss ghoul#aether ghoul#aether/swiss#aether x swiss#is this a kink?#who knows
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larian plz
Apparently Minthara's VA has been in the studio again for some after-release recording, so I'm just going to go ahead and drop the headcanon I came up with during EA for "good playthrough but you get to keep Minthara" here just in case . . .
I feel like if you side with the tieflings during the grove event but toggle on non-lethal damage to knock Minthara out rather than kill her, the after-battle scenes should include one where you find that they have captured Minthara and she's basically bedraggled in a cage, fully restrained with shackles and such. In just a really pitiable, pathetic situation but she keeps her chin up and her jaw clenched, too proud to be broken even in this situation. And perhaps, just perhaps, her faith gives her confidence that The Absolute has planned this.
When she sees you walk through the camp and everyone thanking and cheering you, maybe she pushes into your mind with the worm, maybe not. I think only if you're drow or depending on dialogue choices before to make her think if you can be easily turned back or not. But I think for most people she's written you off as an infidel and traitor to the absolute and other than a glare she doesn't acknowledge you at all.
While talking to Halsin, or Zevlor, or someone "in charge," you are being thanked for all you did for the grove and tieflings, and they express that they are in your debt, ask if there's anything they can do for you despite having so little, etc. And you should be able to choose "I'll take the drow prisoner off your hands."
Depending on who is with you, most of your party members are going to be disapproving/wary, but you can (and this is true, it should be an option later in the game) say you will use her as leverage or a bargaining chip in Moonrise or otherwise when dealing with the Absolute, or acknowledge that her insider knowledge of what's going on would make her a valuable prisoner to keep nearby.
If she overhears you asking for her as your "reward," she might push in now, but I still don't think she does, she just watches, appraisingly. (Or, perhaps depending on your dialogue choices this was all her orchestration via the mind worm; that she reached out to you when she saw you and assured you that The Absolute is not done with you, and that she brought you together and spared you both for a greater purpose, and you must free her so you can return to Moonrise together, as The Absolute clearly intends!)
The druids and tieflings are clearly uncomfortable with the idea of letting such a dangerous prisoner out of their hands; odds are they intended to kill her after a while (they were letting people throw food and stuff at her through the cage for a while as catharsis :( ) and so the idea of her possibly escaping or being set free by you later doesn't feel good. But you can convince/intimidate them over how much you've done for them, how you are clearly the more capable group to look over her since you had to look over them too, etc. Eventually they acquiesce, and there's a prisoner handoff scene, some banter with the party members about how you better know what you're doing.
And in my headcanon there's tons more content that gets very sexy in the times after that once you have Minthara in your camp as somewhat of a prisoner-in-tow (lots of her pushing into your brain and . . . showing you things, making you feel things 👀 with you second-guessing if she's actually into you or just manipulating you for her freedom), but suffice it to say from there the various game experiences maybe allow her to warm up to your party or your party to warm up to her . . . or maybe not and you just trade her away to slavers or kill her or whatever. But I always felt that was a pretty simple way to allow you to spare the tieflings and recruit Minthara, and I'm sad it's not in the game.
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Hello! Occasionally, when on Tumblr, I'll come across arguments about how Lizzie was manipulating Tommy after Grace died/not taking the responsibility for Angel Changretta, which I don't really agree with, but it still got me thinking:
Since I'm pretty sure that Lizzie has always sought more (or different? the desire to fuck in a bed instead of over a desk?) intimacy from Tommy than he's tended to give her, and assuming that Lizzie is sort of the 'female reflection' of Tommy (which I also don't know if is valid), to what extent do you think Lizzie mightve strategized in order to be with Tommy?
Reworded questions:
Do you think that Lizzie has ever purposefully manipulated Tommy in order to get closer to him? Or was it really all/mostly Tommy giving her job/money/house?!?! Or something different? How like-minded is she to him?
Final/main question:
Do you think that Lizzie has ever strategized in a fashion similar to how Tommy uses strategies to get closer to certain people?
Sorry if that was a lot. :)
@coffeeatnight23
oh mannnnnnn this one is difficult.
First thoughts: there's such a knee-jerk reaction in me to go, 'of course she didn't ~strategise~' because my brain goes strategise=machavellian=perjorative/"bad". But then I recoil from that first thought and go, 'strategising in and of itself isn't BAD or EVIL, you could be strategising for your future, your career path, a 3 year road trip, etc, why the kneejerk reaction??' but I just spin my wheels trying to get out of this rut of preconditioned thinking: that of course women AREN'T allowed to strategise in any way when it comes to a man because that's so horribly typical, isn't it, so don't dare think it---
Trying to set all that emotional reaction aside...
Generally/broadly, I think Lizzie *does* strategise, but with a much shorter term horizon and more selfishly than Tommy. I get a sense that a huge part of Lizzie's upbringing, poverty, past trauma narrows her perspectives and views, almost to the extent she kneejerk-makes self-centred decisions because that's how she ensures that *her decision* is centred and she can benefit from the decision being made; if she lets other people sway her or take centre stage, then she will be the one hurt because of how the whole world would otherwise look down on her, discount/ignore her, or use her. She has none of the status, family support, leverage that Tommy ever did, and I think a certain 'do it for myself' stubbornness had to be developed in response to be able to push herself forward *alone* in a world that has no room for women without the usual power structures around her. Tommy, by contrast, is *mostly* making his decisions in the context of carrying forward larger family group rather than entirely selfishly. (If it were Lizzie/Grace, Lizzie would've took off with Grace in a delighted beat. With Tommy/Grace, of *course* Tommy stays for the family.)
The short term horizon, I think, tugs at me as both a similarity but also point of difference. Tommy has a long term vision, even if it's as grey and nebulous as "rich, wealthy, safe, accepted, no more humiliation, end the war, my children are safe, our children will never have to suffer this..." But he makes his shorter term decisions targeting the most gain in favour of this long term vision. (While this happens in every season, I feel like S6 shows this at its most ultimate/extreme broken end: he's making all these shorter-term decisions that hurt the people around him and hurt humself, that morally wound left right and centre, in favour of that vision.)
Lizzie, I feel like she has a similar sort of nebulousness about the future, but it's even greyer than Tommy. Her choice to take up prostitution to meet a short term immediate need without thinking of repercussions in that day and age, then the difficulty of trying to build a life detached from that decision; she recognises she needs to start a course and build some skills to be employable, but it seems a quite abstract and *young* thought, a sense of "all right, Liz, you got yourself into this, now get yourself out of it, no one else is gonna do it" without a specific line of thought as to where it might lead her. Possibly a strategy that as a secretary she might meet a husband? (Even in my day at uni, the numbers of women who still said they really only studied so they'd meet a whitecollar man instead of bluecollar...is that strategising? *shrugs* It probably is. So she probably did think something like that??)
And when confronted with an unexpected pregnancy, Lizzie makes the decision she won't terminate no matter what and that it's not Tommy's decision in any way (she reacted very interestingly when he raised this, almost an emotional lashout at him 'if you think that, you don't know me (and i don't know you if you intend to push this)'). She had to know that meant she was *probably* going to be a single mother, that she might get some sort of financial support from Tommy, but reputationally that would still be tough. I don't feel like there was any heavy *conscious* strategy beyond her emotional reaction that yes, she will be having this baby even with all that fuzzy uncertainty. She had to know by then Tommy would care for family, and probably wouldn't shun her/the baby or cut them off, but financial wellbeing doesn't solve all the other problems she'd be carrying as a single mother.
Compared to Tommy, I don't think Lizzie would ever consciously strategise to hurt someone else, or even strategise to put someone else down or knock them down. I feel like if she knew one of her decisions/plans would hurt someone that badly she'd probably change that plan or be very uncomfortable with it. I don't get much sense of maliciousness in her, even when she actively dislikes people like Diana and Mosley, she doesn't....do or say all that much, she just wants to be away from them. Now, Tommy doesn't go out of his way to cause collateral damage, but he accepts that damage is a likely or sometimes even certain consequence, including to his own, and proceeds anyway. (Even though that *also* hurts him)
So that's sort of...my thoughts on how 'like minded' they are in terms of how, structurally, they think about planning. Lizzie methinks is far more emotionally and selfishly motivated, with less of a long term horizon to her thinking. (I think there's something else likeminded about them, too, which is that I think they both wear some pretty fucking big sets of blinkers/filtered glasses, including with each other - they are quite blind about certain things and decisions.)
Then to the part of the question on...did Lizzie strategise to get closer to Tommy, I think on that emotional/self-centred level she probably did? I don't think she ever sat down and plotted a detailed twenty step seven year plan to marry Thomas Shelby, but every time she had a confrontational decision or pivotal decision point in her life, she always made a decision in a way that would keep her close to Tommy, to move more and more into his inner circle rather than out. Several times I think she also made these decisions at a point where it probably conflicted with her own moral/ethic set, but she pushed through because 'being there for/with Tommy' was more important to her than how she felt about it. So Tommy almost presents this interesting juxtaposition of the selfish/non-selfish decisionmaking: Lizzie acts to please one part of herself by making decisions that get her closer to Tommy, but she frequently makes those decisions with his wellbeing and needs above her own to her own detriment and hurt. Like at Epsom, for example, she absolutely could have walked away, but she did what he asked despite that it humiliated her, put her at threat of rape, and that she had to know it would end up with someone being hurt (that also wasn't her).
I think a huge part of her always making decisions to move closer to Tommy was motivated by genuinely liking Tommy and because he *does* reciprocate this liking *and* he is the one who offers those opportunities to move closer to him. All Lizzie does is a job, staying close, doing her job, staying close: *he's* the one who always offers more. She returned to him after the S1 humiliation; but he's the one who offered the secretary job, he's the one who gave her the numbers to the safe, he's the one who took her to the bridge, he's the one who would have had to offer marriage. Now, of course Lizzie's conscious that he also offers power, money, status, protection atop the liking. And as a woman on her own, why *wouldn't* Lizzie make those decisions to move closer to him? Even if nothing happened sexually or relationship wise she'd still benefit more than she would trying to do it alone?
But I do think, apart from 'stay close to this man I like and who seems to like me (and who's cool and interesting and upwards climbing and compelling and getting *really rich!*) ', Lizzie's 'strategising' is far more like a string of decisions made at points in time around opportunities that Tommy offers, rather than some long term targetted strategy on Lizzie's part. The S5 'my property' scene is an interesting one for Lizzie's words, too; she weighs her decision at a point in time to stay.
((It's interesting thinking about how many of Tommy's decisions were probably 'point in time' type decisions as well. Every time there's a fork in the road, does he take what appears to be the most likely path to get him to that nebulous ultimate aim? Or does he contrive a long pathway to get there? I mean, we see him strategise probably the most heavily and with the longest forward plan in S3 and even then he fucks it up with a bunch of hasty 'point in time' decisions. Even in S4 there's no super-long term strategy, it's a bunch of tactical desperate decisions made one after the other. Honestly, the gin distillery is the longest term strategic decision he made in S4: creation of a product line *for* export instead of just exporting for others! Everything else we see Tommy do on screen is pretty short term, a lot of high stakes short term decisions, rolling the dice, on the principle that it might leapfrog him closer to that end aim. (I imagine any movie will reframe the S6 decisions to show a much longer term play against Mosley, too, disrupted by the false terminal diagnosis...) So maybe Tommy is also not quite as machiavelian or a long term planner as it seems, either? It's just that Lizzie is motivated by staying close to Tommy and hence makes her point in time decisions by what appears to keep her close to Tommy; Tommy is motivated by that ambigious end-game and makes his point in time decisions in favour of that.))
#sorry this is so rambly#chat-format posts not structured meta#a lot of this is instinctual/feeling based rather than analytical so take with many grains of salt#i am sure there are plenty of quoted examples which will nicely contradict me XD
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manipulated!jason and manipulator!tim
jason's fresh out of a break up and meets tim who's 10x worse than the last person he broke up with. by worse i mean, jason cannot escape tim at all.
tim's so good with body language, and mind games, to the point where he uses his knowledge for the worse. by worse i mean, he's never tired of making jason deluded.
no one can save jason, not even himself. why? he doesn't want to be saved at all.
tw/cw: tim calls jason a gay slur but erotically 😔
tim offers one thing that jason has always wanted but never been able to receive. unconditional love.
from the get go- bruce's love had been conditional. follow my orders or hit the road. alfred's love had hinged more on pacifying jason in order to avoid upsetting bruce. and dick's love was too insufficient for jason's starving heart. dick gave everyone a single morsel of love and you would be scorned by everyone else receiving their crumbs if you dared demand more.
the same went for every single one of jason's girlfriends. jason's entire life he'd been mistreated by men so his expectations of women were high. unfairly high was what they'd all said to him. they couldn't deal with him and his 'baggage'. it was too much they said.
at least...that was what the nice ones said because jason has a habit of dating pretty cruel girls and never breaking up with them. even when they cheat on him and call him names or slap him in public. not that it garners much concern. dick had broken down laughing when jason's most recent girlfriend left him a screaming voicemail calling him every cruel name under the sun for not buying a gift for her friend's baby shower and making her look "cheap".
but that's alrigh because in jason's mind girls can do no wrong. because even the worst one is better than the best man.
tim tells him that's stupid and asks if jason's a misogynist for refusing to hold shitty women accountable. he also asks if jason's really holding firm to that 'dating' code of his if he's seeing tim.
tim prods at jason's sensitive under belly, digs his nails into open wounds. metaphorically of course. tim's pretty small and if jason didn't want him to do something he's certain he could get him to stop.
tim gets into jason's head like how maggots crawl into fruit and rot them from the inside. even when he's not around it's like jason can feel him whispering in his ear about things.
tim doesn't scream or throw things at jason when he's unhappy.
he tugs jason close and strokes him like he's an abused puppy, murmuring gentle words of 'oh my baby'. and it gets jason on his knees faster than anything.
jason doesn't like boys. doesn't want boys. boys are evil just like men. but...but tim doesn't have a cock. he has a smooth, pretty little cunt just like a girl. he has soft little tits just like a girl.
tim softly calls jason 'ignorant' before softly whispering taunts in jason's ears when jason is fucking him that he's fucking a boy. jason's cock is in a boy. he's dating a boy. and he likes it. that means jason's gay. a faggot.
jason is trembling and curling against tim, burying his head into tim's neck and seeking comfort from the boy fingering his brain and swirling the gray matter around.
tim is mean to jason. but he touches him sweetly and softly.
he calls jason names but follows it with tender comfort and allowing jason to fuck him as softly and roughly as he wants because jason likes sex.
tim calls him a dog for always wanting to fuck and hump him. he says jason is a filthy depraved little animal while jason sobs and cums deeply inside him.
every time they fuck tim muses outloud about jason getting him pregnant and tim using their baby as leverage for the rest of their lives to get jason to do things for him.
tim is a thousand times worse than any girl jason has ever dated. he dangles love, companionship, acceptance, a baby, and the promise of a family in front of his nose like it's a carrot. before turning around and whipping him on the nose with a rising crop until his sensitive face stings with the pain.
jason doesn't know why. he doesn't understand why tim is like this.
but he doesn't ask.
because tim offers him everything he's wanted and more.
jason knows he's being taken advantage of. they only eat what tim likes. only have sex when tim wants to. only listen to music tim enjoys. only go out to places tim thinks are fun. only watch tv shows tim approves of. only hang out with people tim can tolerate.
jason knows he's being taken advantage of. his friends and family tell him he's being taken advantage of. they tell him tim is manipulating him, using him.
for what? he asks them and they....they don't know. they're not sure...
but that doesn't change the fact that tim is doing it!!!
unfortunately for them jason doesn't care.
he doesn't mind being tim's thing. his pet. the mouse to his cat.
jason doesn't mind at all.
so long as that love continues to fill his leaking heart, jason will do anything for tim.
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For Your Eyes Only, chapter five
Chapter five is here!! This one is my personal favorite, so I hope you like it!! Please comment if you'd like!!
Voices hover above Anetra, faintly trickling through the fog in her head.
“Which one first…”
“Colby.”
“...never talks…”
“...make her talk…”
“This one’s waking up.”
Anetra grimaces as she pries her heavy eyelids open. There’s something cold against her cheek, almost a relief from the pain pulsing in her head. She blinks a few more times until the world stops spinning. She’s on a stone floor, in a tiny room in what she assumes is some kind of warehouse, a few windows high above her. She rolls onto her back and sees two men in suits sneering at her. One of them is the man who posed as the waiter at the poker game that first night. The one who gave them the false tip about going to Lyon. The other man is probably another agent.
Sasha isn’t here.
“Wh—what did…where am I? Where’s Sasha?” Anetra’s senses are returning, and fear washes over everything, her heart racing. She doesn’t know where she is, or where Sasha is, and she’s defenseless in this room—
“Don’t worry about your friend. We’ll take care of her,” the agent says, unable to contain the glee in his voice.
Anetra tries to throw a punch from the floor, but her arm is too heavy from the remnants of the drug, and a twitch is all she can manage.
“Are you even with Kingdom?” Anetra spits.
“Yes,” the first man answers.
“And you needed a way to lure us here. And now—now you’re gonna keep us here until it’s too late to stop it.”
“You’re a smart thing,” he mocks. “Too bad it came too late. Yes, we needed a way to lure you here. To stop you from stopping the deal, and see what you know about it.”
The confusion clears from Anetra’s head, replaced with a dark weight in her chest, because she knows what’s happening now. These men want information, and they’re going to hurt Sasha and Anetra to get it.
“We don’t know any—” Anetra starts, but the second man kicks her in the side.
Anetra groans, curling into the stone floor. “Let Sasha go, she won’t tell you anything,” she says, groaning again when the agent delivers another kick.
“Can’t we just kill this one?” The second man continues. He motions his gun toward Anetra, and her blood runs cold, brain instantly alert. This is it. All the dangerous missions she’s survived and she’s going to die in this warehouse, she’s going to—
“No,” the first man says, and Anetra’s heart rises to her throat. “Colby never talks. Keep this one for leverage.”
The door slams behind them. Anetra lays there a few minutes, letting her body return to normal, before sitting up and burying her head in her hands. The door is thick steel, the walls thick concrete. Her weapons and earpiece are gone, her watch is broken. They haven’t even tied her hands, which means they know she has no escape. She doesn’t have any way out, beyond waiting for Luxx to find them. Luxx is the best tracker at Union, she knows. When they don’t check in at the hotel, Luxx will get suspicious, and get on their trail. So it’s not a matter of if they’re found, but when.
And whether they’re alive when that time comes.
It’s quiet in here. Strangely quiet. She can’t hear anything but her own heartbeat, her shaky breaths. The room must be soundproof, and it means she can’t hear what’s coming. Can’t hear what they’re doing to Sasha, wherever they’ve taken her. It should be a good thing, but in some ways it’s worse. Because now her imagination has full control.
Sasha locked in a room somewhere, struggling against ropes.
Sasha covered in blood, begging those men to stop.
The room is tilting, and she realizes it’s because she’s shaking. Her chest is on fire, spasming with gasping breaths that don’t bring any air into her lungs.
Agents don’t panic. Dominion teaches them all breathing techniques—ones for underwater and high altitudes, and ones for all-purpose situations where they need to stay calm.
And Anetra should be calm. Getting captured is just part of the spy thing, something she’s trained for. She can’t even keep track of the times she’s been captured, the ways people have tried to get information out of her. This isn’t even a horrible one; she’s just sitting here, and those men didn’t even beat her up. She’s been in worse situations, and she’s gotten through them, fought her way out. But this time she can’t fight her way out.
And this time, for the first time, she’s worried about someone else too.
She’s never had to worry about someone else on a mission. It’s not that she throws her own life around like it’s nothing, but it’s different, another thing entirely, to think about someone else. To not have your own power or control, to get yourself out of something or fight for your survival. To know that even if you get out, you’re responsible for someone else too. Anetra’s stuck here, and Sasha is stuck wherever she is. There’s nothing Anetra can do, for either of them. And even if she can fight her way out, it won’t do any good, because she won’t leave Sasha here.
Raja’s early suspicion comes into Anetra’s mind, drawn into things by the stress. Isn’t it…convenient that they just left Anetra here alone, with no idea of where Sasha is? What if Sasha is working with Kingdom, and this whole thing was a trap for Anetra? Sasha and those two men could be halfway around the world already.
But Anetra thinks of Sasha’s light touch as she fixed Anetra’s bleeding lip. How badly she cared, and wanted to help. Sasha would never betray Anetra, or her agency.
Anetra sits there, reminding herself how to breathe. Slow breaths in and out, counting on her fingers, her chest expanding with the air. She’s shivering in the icy room, and all she can think about is how Sasha hogs the blankets because she gets cold easily, and the thought nearly derails her breathing. She gets herself together and runs through her past missions, runs through the Dominion code of conduct. Anything to keep her mind off what could be happening.
It’s an endless cycle, with only the beating of her heart to pass the time.
She has no idea how much time has passed when the door is thrown open, making her heart drop. Sasha must not have confessed anything, and those men are coming to bring Anetra where Sasha is. They’re going to throw Anetra on the ground and beat the shit out of her in front of Sasha before finally putting a gun to her head, all in the hopes that Anetra getting beaten and threatened will force Sasha to confess her information. They’re going to make Sasha choose between saving the information she knows, or saving Anetra’s life.
And if Sasha doesn’t confess, they’ll kill Anetra.
Anetra sucks in a breath and looks up. Now is the time to fight her way out, and she’s not going down quietly.
But a man in a suit stands there. A Union man.
Anetra’s chest burns with air as she breathes in relief.
“Is Sasha…” She can’t even finish the thought.
“Agent Colby will need medical attention,” he says, stone-faced.
Anetra swallows hard.
She gets to her feet and into the main room of the warehouse. Two more agents drag the men who kidnapped them out of the building, into an armored transport truck, and another Union man is leading Sasha out of the same room.
Sasha’s walking on her own—well, limping on her own. Of course she would want to show that those men didn’t win. That she’s still in control. But it doesn’t feel like a victory, not when she’s so pale, face completely colorless beneath a sheen of sweat. She’s holding her left hand close to her chest, like something is injured there. There’s dried blood under her nose and down her shirt, a bruise already forming around her right eye and cheek, a split in her bottom lip.
Anetra’s stomach churns, and her fists clench with the desire to run after those men and beat them senseless for what they did to Sasha. She digs her nails into her palms and keeps her eyes on the floor. Something about looking too deeply at Sasha when she’s like this feels wrong. Invasive. Anetra can’t look any more, doesn’t want to see another bruise and let her mind haunt her with ways Sasha got it.
“Didn’t tell them anything,” Sasha mumbles. “I didn’t.”
And then she collapses.
Anetra’s quick, and catches Sasha before she can hit the ground. Anetra gently wraps one arm around her back and the other under her knees, lifting her up because she’s not letting Sasha walk. Not after what she went through. Sasha’s already stirring, weakly touching Anetra’s arms, brow wrinkled in confusion.
“I got you, Sasha, it’s okay,” Anetra says, and Sasha settles, head resting against Anetra’s chest. “I’m gonna get us to the car.”
She follows the agents to a black car with tinted windows. One takes the driver’s seat and the other takes the passenger seat, so Anetra climbs in the back, Sasha still trembling in her arms. Sasha’s shaky fist clings to Anetra’s shirt tighter than should be possible, considering she can’t even lift her head. Anetra takes one look at the blood staining Sasha’s hand, the red rope burns circling her wrist, and can’t even think about making her let go.
The car speeds away, and Anetra holds her tighter.
“You’re okay?” Sasha asks, her eyes fluttering open and shut.
Anetra’s chest aches. How can Sasha possibly be worried about her, after all this?
“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me, just relax.”
“Didn’t know where you were…what they did to you.” Her words are slurred, and her eyes stay closed this time.
“Keep her awake,” the driver says.
Anetra grits her teeth. All she wants is to let Sasha rest, to hold her and keep her safe while she gets some sleep. Sasha deserves that much. But Anetra knows the protocol, and Sasha needs to stay awake in case of a head injury.
She finds a spot on Sasha’s arm that’s not bruised or bloody, and taps gently. “Hey, Sasha, can you stay awake? Just a little longer?” Anetra’s never been in this position. She’s never had to be the calm one after a mission, never been with a partner after one at all. She’s usually the one bleeding in the backseat, keeping herself awake and waiting for a doctor to fix her. She keeps her voice low and neutral, not wanting to scare Sasha or stress her out.
Sasha groans.
“I know, I’m sorry.” Anetra brushes a strand of Sasha’s hair off her face, hoping it soothes her. “Just a little more, and then you can sleep. I…I don’t know exactly where we are, but we’re on the way to one of the satellite offices.”
Sasha cracks open her eyes with another groan. Anetra doesn’t know what to talk about, so she just describes the surroundings outside. Sasha keeps breathing, keeps her eyes open, and that’s enough.
They tear into Union’s Paris headquarters, and Anetra brushes off the other agents and carries Sasha inside herself.
A team of doctors approaches with a stretcher, their clean white coats glaring in the gray hallway.
“We’ll take it from here,” one of them says.
Right. Sasha needs real medical attention, not just an agency-issued first aid kit, and it’s another reminder of how serious this is. How horribly this could’ve gone. But part of Anetra is reluctant to let Sasha leave her arms, let her be taken away, because at least like this, she knows Sasha is safe. She knows where she is, unlike in the warehouse. Then Sasha winces when Anetra shifts her arm and brushes a sore spot, and it makes the decision for her.
She sets Sasha on the stretcher, but Sasha’s not letting go of her shirt, clenching so tight her knuckles have paled even further. Anetra just can’t pry her fingers away, not when it’s going to cause her more pain. Not when it’s going to upset her.
“Neech,” Sasha breathes, and Anetra knows she must be out of it, because she’d never let herself be like this in front of other people. Never let them see her as anything but the Serpent.
“It’s okay, they’re gonna help you,” Anetra soothes, stroking Sasha’s sweaty hair. “You can let go, it’s okay. I’ll see you…I’ll see you really soon, okay? I promise.”
Sasha’s hand falls, leaving wrinkles in Anetra’s shirt from the force of her grip, and the doctors immediately whisk her away.
Anetra leans against the wall. It’s completely silent, and everything around her feels unreal, somehow. The hallway is nothing but gray tile, and everyone in med bay is so far away, they’re nonexistent. It’s just Anetra in this hall, in the entire world. She doesn’t even know what day it is, or how long they were in that warehouse. A wave of dizziness washes over her, and she slides down the wall to the floor. The cool tile beneath her is steady and grounding and real, and she takes deep breaths.
She’s had closer, more dangerous calls than this—guns at her head, bombs set to explode. All she did was sit in a room and then carry Sasha to a car, and yet every bit of her is heavy and drained. It’s physical, but it’s internal too. Maybe from the exhausting change of not being able to fight her way out, of having to be the calm one and take care of Sasha, instead of being the one who needed wounds tended to.
But it’s okay now, she tells herself. They got out, and Sasha is with some of the best doctors in the world. She’s been through worse than this, just like Anetra. Sasha is one of the best in the business, and she’ll be fine. She doesn’t need to hold onto Anetra behind the cold walls of med bay, even if Anetra partly wishes she could be there with her.
Footsteps distract her, and she looks up to see Denali, one of her fellow Dominion agents, who’s been on assignment here in Paris.
“I think Union needs better security.” Anetra smirks as she rises to her feet. The joke feels strange from her lips, almost wrong after tonight. But she laughs, and Denali laughs, and it feels right.
“Please. The best security in the world couldn’t stop me. They did let me in, though. Rosé told them to.” Rosé is part of the computer team at Union. She divides her time between their office in Paris and the one in Dublin, and whenever Dominion has a mission in those places, she’s the reason Denali is the first to volunteer for it.
“What are you doing here?”
“Case business,” she says, her usual vague answer for encompassing all things Rosé. “But I really came here to tell you that they’re talking to those guys who kidnapped you. They’re talking to one right now. The other is in holding room five.”
“Why are—”
Denali slips a key into her hand, and Anetra’s breath hitches.
“Just remember, you can’t kill him.” With that, Denali walks away.
—-
Anetra takes a breath as she steps into room five. The Kingdom agent, the one gave them the false tip, sits with his hands cuffed to a desk, beady eyes meeting hers with disdain. Anetra thinks of him saying that they’d ‘take care’ of Sasha, and her entire body burns, jaw clenching with rage.
“Back so soon?” he taunts.
Anetra doesn’t answer. She doesn’t know what to say, what to do yet.
“How’s Colby? She’s tough, I’ll give her that.”
“Don’t say her name,” Anetra growls like a wounded dog.
The man smirks. “She didn’t talk, but we got her to beg.”
“Shut up.”
“It’s a good thing those agents came when they did. I really think we almost had her. We mentioned bringing you in and putting a gun to your head, and she almost started crying,” he gloats, barely able to contain his joy. “She asked us not to hurt you, she was begging for your life—”
Anetra’s vision tunnels, and goes sheer red. Angry red. Blood red.
Her fist slams into the man’s nose with a crunch she hears but doesn’t feel.
She can’t kill him, not when he has information. And she doesn’t want to kill him. She wants to hurt him. She wants him to feel every ounce of pain he made Sasha feel, and if he feels twice as much, it’s still not enough.
She delivers punch after punch, the movements not even registering in her head. Like her fist has a mind of its own. Like a wild animal tearing apart its prey. Blood pours from the man’s nose, his lips. It trickles between her knuckles, but she doesn’t even feel it. She keeps going until she can’t catch her breath anymore, until the man is just a mess of blood.
She runs from the room and leaves the key at Rosé’s desk. Rosé nods. “You should go see Kylie for that hand.”
Anetra looks at it numbly. It’s like looking at someone else’s hand, because she doesn’t even feel the swelling. It’s stained with blood that’s certainly the man’s and maybe her own, from the tears along her knuckles, with hints of purple where it’s starting to bruise. Her feet carry her to a nurse’s office with Kylie’s name.
A blonde woman answers the door, and immediately guides Anetra into a chair.
“Shit, you’re a mess,” Kylie mutters.
Anetra looks at the blood on her, covering her hand and speckled on her rumpled T-shirt, and can’t even argue. She doesn't want to know what the rest of her looks like.
Kylie cleans the blood and checks Anetra’s hand with a portable X-Ray scanner, her touches gentle.
“You’re lucky you didn’t break it,” Kylie says, pursing her lips.
“Can you tell me what time it is?” Anetra asks roughly. “Or the day?”
Kylie softens. “Of course. It’s Friday, almost nine in the morning.”
It’s only been 9 hours since they were taken, but it feels like 9 lifetimes.
Kylie wordlessly hands Anetra a bottle of water and some crackers, and Anetra realizes how hungry she is.
Anetra doesn’t talk while she eats, and Kylie bandages her hand. She doesn’t even wince. Kylie wraps it in a layer of white gauze, then adds an ice bag, then more gauze to hold the ice in place. “Keep that ice on, or it’ll be even more swollen.” She grabs a pill and hands it to Anetra. “And take this. It’s gonna hurt when that adrenaline wears off.”
Anetra obeys.
“Is anywhere else hurt?”
“My side is probably bruised,” Anetra says, remembering the kicks there.
Kylie sighs and grabs another ice pack, securing it to Anetra’s side and mumbling that she has to do everything around here.
“Have you heard anything about Sasha?” Anetra asks after, wincing at the crack in her voice.
“She’s stable. No concussion, no internal bleeding.”
“Can I see her?”
“They gave her something to help her sleep. She won’t wake up for a while.”
“I don’t care.”
Kylie looks at Anetra for a few seconds, like she’s taking her in. Reading her, the way Sasha had done. Then she nods and leads Anetra deeper into the med bay, to a room. She pauses in front of the door, biting her lip. “She’s pretty bruised up, honey,” Kylie says softly. “It looks bad, but don’t let it scare you. She’s a real fighter, and she’s gonna be just fine.”
Anetra nods, her stomach dropping when she opens the door.
Sasha lays in bed, face as pale as the white blanket pulled up to her waist. There’s an IV in her arm and a bunch of wires hooked up to her chest. There are bandages around her wrists, and the last two fingers on her left hand are taped together. Broken, maybe. The blood is gone, and it makes things a little better, but also a little worse. Its revealed wounds that were covered before. Cuts held together with little strips of medical tape, bruises turning dark purple at the edges. New trails of pain and violence that were unknown, all over her face and arms. Anetra doesn’t want to know about places she can’t see.
And she looks small. She’s brought down major crime rings, saved so many lives. She always seems like the tallest person in every room. But now she looks so small, so vulnerable. Like the bed is meant for someone twice her size. Like she could break apart from the slightest touch.
Anetra thinks of what Kylie said, and maybe she doesn’t need to be scared. Maybe instead, she should be in awe, because Sasha made it through.
But Anetra is always in awe of Sasha.
Anetra collapses into the chair beside the bed. Sasha’s okay. She’s breathing, and she’s okay. Anetra wants to hold her hand, but stops herself. Instead, she pulls the blanket up a little higher, so Sasha doesn’t get cold.
She watches Sasha’s chest rise, and remembers what that man said.
The closest Sasha came to breaking was when Anetra’s life had been threatened.
She fought through everything they did, and the only thing that almost got her was the fear of something happening to Anetra. The mere thought takes Anetra’s breath away. She’s been friends with other agents, but she’s never worked directly with one. She’s never shared with them the things she shared with Sasha. She’s never cared this much about someone else, never had them care for her like this, and though she doesn’t want to think it, that kind of caring could have ruined the mission. She simply can’t let herself have feelings for Sasha. It’s too dangerous to have feelings, when you deal in danger for a living. It’s safer not to. Safer for them to both finish this mission—if they’re even able to—and then go their own ways. No strings attached.
She can’t think about it. Not after everything that happened. How badly this almost went.
She watches over Sasha instead, her own breaths strengthening with each of Sasha’s.
—-
Anetra sits there for hours, not moving, not thinking, until Sasha starts to stir. It’s barely noticeable, but Anetra notices. The twitch of her fingers. The slight changes in her breathing. The fluttering of her long eyelashes. Sasha blinks through the swelling around her right eye, her breaths speeding up. “Wh—where…” she asks hoarsely.
Anetra turns in the chair, making sure Sasha can see her. “It’s okay. We’re at a Union satellite base in France. It’s Friday, almost one in the afternoon,” Anetra says calmly. Sasha’s waking in a new place; on top of the painkillers and sedatives, she’s probably extra confused. Anetra wants to keep her relaxed.
“Neech…” Sasha sighs, her breaths immediately calm as she sees Anetra. Her eyes open all the way, and the relief of seeing the gentle green makes Anetra grateful for the chair supporting her.
“I’m here.”
Sasha nods. She looks at her bandages and nods again, to herself. A steadying motion that pulls herself back together, gives her face that usual control. “Didn't…didn’t know where you were.”
“I’m here. I’ve been here,” Anetra says. “Do you need anything? More painkillers? You, um, you got hurt pretty bad,” she adds, feeling like an idiot. Like Sasha doesn’t know she’s hurt. Some of the swelling has gone down, but it still breaks Anetra’s heart to look at those cuts and bruises, the tape on her fingers.
“I’m okay,” Sasha says. Anetra thinks she really means it. She’s used to this, just like they all are. That’s why she’s so calm. If it wasn’t part of agent protocol, maybe it would make Anetra sad.
“How much do you remember?”
“Most of it. We got caught, I woke up in the warehouse. We got out and in a car. You were there,” Sasha says firmly, like she knows that for sure. “We got here, and then things are blurry.”
“The doctors fixed you up when we got here, that’s probably why,” Anetra says. If Sasha isn’t mentioning whatever happened in that warehouse, Anetra won’t either. It isn’t her place.
Sasha nods. “What happened with the mission?”
“I think they’re still working on it. Don’t worry about that right now.”
“Is your hand okay?”
Anetra’s chest warms. If Sasha is asking about her, worrying about her, then she’s still herself under all those bruises. Anetra hadn’t realized until now that she was worried Sasha might be gone beneath it all.
“I got in a fight,” Anetra says vaguely. “I’ll tell you about it later.”
“Okay.”
“I should probably get a doctor to check on you.”
Sasha nods again. “You’ll stay?” She looks uncomfortable, uncertain. She’s not used to asking for help. Not used to showing any kind of vulnerability.
“Of course.”
And Anetra does. She stays the whole time the doctor checks Sasha, replacing gauze and bandages, checking her temperature, adjusting her IV fluids. She’s helping a fellow agent. A fellow agent who’s her partner on this case. There’s nothing more.
There can’t be anything more.
—-
“When can I leave? I’m fine, really.”
“Sasha—“
“Can’t you at least bring me my folder so I can work on the case?”
“You’re supposed to rest.”
“But I’ve been resting all day,” Sasha whines with a pout. She winces when it stretches the cuts on her lip, and crosses her arms instead.
“You only woke up three hours ago,” Anetra laughs. She can’t help but smile at Sasha being an impatient child, when she was normally the adult soothing the impatient child. Besides, Anetra does understand. Being stuck in bed like this is one of the most awful things for an agent, when you’re so used to being in motion or working on something. And if Sasha is trying to get out of bed and back to work, then she’s herself again, and Anetra’s heart lifts.
“I’ll find you something to pass the time,” Anetra promises, heading down the hall. She knocks on Kylie’s office. “Do you have cards or anything?”
Kylie looks at her thoughtfully. “Sasha’s trying to make a run for it, isn’t she?” she guesses.
“Yep.”
Kylie smiles fondly and pulls an Uno deck from her desk.
“Thanks.”
“Of course.”
Sasha brightens when she sees the cards, throwing herself into the game. She flings her cards down on her blanket, demands to see Anetra’s card herself when Anetra tells her to draw four.
After a few games, Sasha’s movements grow slower, more lethargic. Her eyes keep falling shut, only to fly open a second later.
“You can sleep if you’re tired.”
“I’m not tired,” Sasha grumbles.
Anetra really likes this stubborn child side of her. Even if part of her does miss the calm, cool, in control Sasha.
“I’ll still be here,” Anetra adds quietly, remembering how confused Sasha was in the warehouse and when she first woke up here, because she didn’t know where Anetra had been.
“I’m not tired,” Sasha repeats, softer this time.
Anetra nods and continues the game. After a few more rounds, Sasha is fast asleep.
Anetra leans back in her chair, ready to keep her word. Sasha’s breaths are slow, soothing, and soon enough, they lull Anetra to sleep.
—-
It’s noon on Saturday when Anetra and Sasha make their way to an office, where Raja has flown in to meet them. If they flew in, it means business. Sasha had cheered when the doctors released her an hour ago, and she doesn’t lose that joy as she searches for a position that doesn’t make her flinch.
Raja folds their hands across from them. “So, I’m sure you know we need to talk about the case. The two men who kidnapped you are named Weston and Banner. They’re working with Kingdom, who wants to get the weapons for themselves. It would give them leverage over the entire world, not to mention trillions of dollars if they sell. Kingdom doesn’t know anything about the sale, which is why they tried to get the information out of you. Right now, we still don’t know anything, only that Tiger’s deal is expected to take place this week.”
Silence stretches for nearly a minute as they process the information.
“You have to let us finish this,” Sasha says finally.
Raja sighs. “But—”
“Think about it,” Sasha cuts in. Calm as ever. “You’d have to assign new people to it. New people who would already be behind and don’t know the intricacies of all this. Anetra and I have history with the case. We have the necessary knowledge. And I believe we have the skills to find out what’s really going on, and stop it.”
“In case you’ve forgotten, you were in a hospital bed an hour ago.”
Sasha bites her lip, weighing her words carefully. “I haven’t forgotten what happened. That’s something I need to work through myself, on my time. But I need to finish this and get closure before I can do that.” Her voice is firm, face as close to harsh as Anetra’s seen it.
Anetra knows it’s swayed Raja. “You would need to get medically cleared for re-entry into field work,” they say, a little more gently, glancing at the tape around Sasha’s fingers. Then they turn to Anetra. “So would you, since you fucked up your hand losing your shit on Weston.”
“My hand is fine,” Anetra mumbles. It’s a little sore, and bruised a galaxy of purples and blues, but it’s perfectly usable.
Sasha turns to her with wide eyes. “You lost your shit on Weston? Wait—that’s the fight you got in,” she says, putting it together in seconds. “You…did you do that for me?” she asks. Her eyes soften with something Anetra can’t read.
“I—”
“The point is,” Raja interrupts, “You might not be in the best shape for this.”
“We want to do it,” Anetra says. “None of our injuries are serious enough to prevent us from finishing the mission. We have this history with it, like Sasha said. Let us do this. Please.”
Anetra doesn’t want to lose this mission, and Sasha feels the same. Each assignment became a part of you, something you poured yourself into. Having it ripped away is like having your favorite toy stolen from you as a kid. Raja can’t take this from them. Not after what they’ve put into it, after what Sasha went through to preserve the information they know.
Raja is quiet for a few seconds. Then they nod. “Okay, but we don’t have a lot of time.”
“We’ll do it,” Sasha says for the both of them.
“We will,” Anetra agrees.
She turns to Sasha, who gives her a comforting grin, despite the cuts and bruises on her face. Anetra knows they can finish this case, just like she knows that she and Sasha are going to have to really talk about things soon.
Just like she knows that the flutter of love in her chest is too strong to ignore.
But she’ll ignore it just the same.
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A Pound of Flesh - EZ Reyes x Reader
Tagging: @infinity-mars @@lobakomwonkru @danzer8705 @keyweegirlie @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @est1887 @the-wandering-lunatic @alwaysachorusgirl @anime-weeb-4-life @multifandomloversworld @mortal--soul @buddinglinguist @spookyboogyuniverse @spaghettificationandpretzels @thanossexual @thebaileybugle @oureternalbond @bonsaijoons @sclitvdes @appreciatelove @weiwei0210 @proceduralpassion @crazy4chickennuggets @callsignartemis @kmc1989 @justreblogginfics @irishavengersassemble @keyweegirlie @zaenight @wolfiekru
Sequel to The Water Tower
Prequel to "you have my life in your hands" and Drinking Tonight
Set in the Community Living Universe
The jukebox is broken. That is the first thing that EZ sees when he steps into the bar that morning. There’s a surge of something in his body, a rush of adrenaline, a flash of panic. Glass litters the floor crunching underneath the heels of his boots as he ducks behind the bar finding you absent. The stench of spirits fills his nostrils, it tastes sharp on his tongue as he surveys the mess.
His brain flashes back to that truck, the one advertising beverages coming up the road, the man he didn’t recognise in the cab. He remembers thinking it was a too early for vendors, that they usually came in the afternoon. He’s about to bolt up the backstairs to your apartment when he hears your footsteps coming down.
It sounds like thunder, a quick aggressive pace as you hurtle through the side door, your eyes blazing, and an ice pack clutched to the left side of your face.
“I told you to stay the fuck out…” You trail off when you see it’s him standing there, the fire in your eyes dying just a little. He’s in front of you before you can blink, his hand enclosing over the ice pack as he draws it away from your cheek to survey the damage. The left side of your face is already swelling, he knows it’s going to bruise by tomorrow. Your lip is split, still bleeding.
“Who was it?” He asks you. His voice is low, his face set like granite, his eyes darkening as he guides the icepack back to your face. “Was it the guy that just left?”
“EZ…” You say with a thread of warning.
He gives you a look, it’s filled with fire and brimstone as he bows his head, his nostrils flaring as he tries to repress the rage that pulses through his veins.
“Who put their hands on you?”
You turn your head away, but he cups your chin and guides your gaze back to his. You see a myriad of emotions flicker through him, he’s trying to hold it all back but it’s there underneath the surface.
“Is this about paying back the debt?”
He sees your jaw clench, the way your shoulders tense and your muscles tighten. He doesn’t expect an answer because you view this as your problem, not his. He may be your boyfriend, but this shit is on you. It’s exhausting, it has to be, trying to hold everything together and then this…
This violence, this mayhem.
“What else did he want?”
He’s been asking around about the shitheads you owe money to. He knows that the original lender, the father is sick, that his son Grady has a screw loose, that he’d been stepping up and making collections, increasing interest. The ones that are struggling to pay he leverages, a couple of hours with their women until they can scrape the money together.
“Did he…”
You shake your head, your eyes stinging. He sees it, you know he does. His gaze slips down to your clothes, to the missing buttons, the torn pocket. The scent of another man’s aftershave on your skin. It fills him with vitriol, he knows he’s going to kill the son of a bitch who put his hands on you. He’s going to wrap his hands around his throat and choke the life right out of him.
“But he tried?” EZ asks you, this thumb chasing over the blush of your cheek as he cradles your face in his hands.
He thinks that Grady must have heard the bike, that he must have known what it meant. It wasn’t a secret that you had ties to the MC, that you were his fucking girl.
“You can’t pay, can you?” He already knows the answer, that the new interest rates are too exorbitant for most people, that Grady is using that to take his pound of flesh.
He knows how much this bar means to you, that it’s the final piece of your heritage, the only thing you have left because the world has taken everything else.
“I don’t have a choice.” You tell him. “It’ll be once, just once.”
EZ looks at you sadly because it’s never just once, this kind of thing it goes on and on and on. He knows that it will destroy you, that every time a piece of your soul will leave your body until there’s nothing left. He won’t let that happen to you; he can’t bear the fucking thought of it.
In that moment he knows exactly what he has to do. He thinks of the stash of money he keeps in his father’s house, hidden behind a panel in the bathroom. His escape plan, Felipe calls it. Just in case shit goes sour with the DEA. Funds to get out of the country, to start a new life somewhere else. It’s too late for that now, he’s already started putting down roots. Even if the whole thing does blow up, he’ll face the consequences, he can’t leave Angel and he can’t leave you. You mean too much to him.
He knows what his father would say, don’t be so fucking stupid.
The thing about EZ is, he’s anything but stupid. He’s learned from his mistakes, and he knows if he lets you do this, it’s something that neither of you will come back from.
“You may not have a choice.” He says, drawing away from you. “But I do.”
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Pssst I think you should write that fucked up fitpac thing
aughhhhhhhhhhhh fuck but im literally in the middle of writing another fitpac smut rn and ive got class, so instead im just gonna dump my ideas here and hopefully come back to them later
ok uh fuck pac uses his control over fit's mech dick (he made it after all) to overload fit with pleasure in purgatory to the point he cant fucking move at all, trapping him and taking him out of the fight until his 5 hours are up in purgatory.
or fit just fantasizing about how pac could do that, at any time just take advantage of his past trust and reduce him down to a pathetic moaning mess, taking him back to past encounters in 2b2t, how he successfully fought them off back then but wishing he wouldn't win for pac
fit going out to hunt, ambushing tubbo or some other blue team member not to realize that pac was there, killing the other blue but getting so low and his armor so broken he's completely at pac's whim, trying to run and falling horribly
fit getting called "big daddy" condescendingly by pac, just to rub it in his face how far he's fallen
a big fight between both blue and green ending with them being the only two left, covered in quickly drying blood of their friends and enemies (though at this point what's the difference?)
circling each other like starved dogs
ripping and tearing into each other pulling and scratching at anything they can reach when they finally collide
pac using the sharp hard edges of his prosthetic to kick fit wherever is closest, fit biting hard on his other knee to remind him how he lost his first
pac disconnecting fit's prosthetic arm, or just disabling it, he's repaired it enough times to know how to break it easily
tearing away his weapons and clothes, enabling some fun features he added like auto-lube and vibration before fucking fit on his own hand
pac hastily (he wants this to hurt) preps himself with fit's hand (slapping away the flesh one whenever it gets close) before shoving it back inside fit
if his prosthetic arm still had any feeling left in it it would burn from being trapped against the dirt beneath fit and from the angle his wrist must be at to get his fingers anywhere near his prostate (pac wishes it still had feeling)
pac getting fed up with the interference from fit's working hand, so he rearranges himself to pin it under his prosthetic leg, hoping the rough edges leave cuts and bruises, marking fit's entire body as his
then he sinks down onto fit's cock in one smooth motion (only lightly hampered by the blood dripping its way down from somewhere, pain is pleasure at this point so he doesn't care)
fit's hips buck up at the sensation, lifting pac up with him (the knowledge that he has so throughly conquered someone so strong does things to pac's brain)
one of pac's hands is busy restraining fit and acting as leverage for pac to fuck himself on fit's cock, but the other, pac brings up to the top of fit's bald head and scratches a bloody path from there, to his cheeks, over his pecs, and down his abs before resting atop pac's dick
pac gathers the pre-cum, blood and who knows what else that's settled there, before smearing it along a messy path up to fit's neck, where he just holds as he rides fit
when he feels fit cum inside him he doesn't stop, pac just grips even tighter onto fits throat, praying he's cutting off his airway as he rides to completion
then idk maybe they kill each other so they dont have to clean up, maybe they clean up and apologize and its terribly sweet for the situation they're in
#qsmp#fitmc#fit mech dick#yeah this actually turned into a whole story thing oops#this is very fucked up actually yeah please head the warnings#fitpac#this is not pg at all minors do not look#pactw#qsmp fic#qsmpnsft#bloodlust does something to my brain ok#anon#asks answered#artvocado#artvocado (writing)
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im thinking way too much about Chocobos bc video game creature design is my jam and birds are my jam and also i just got finished writing a lecture so brain is in Lecture Mode, and i'm noticing something very peculiar about their design.
the first thing that got me is their feet. these examples are from FFVII and FFXIV, but the design is consistent as far as i'm aware throughout every iteration. they have foot structures unlike literally anything i'm aware of in the natural world:
this structure with two toes facing forward and one facing back seems unique to Chocobos, and i started thinking about what kind of lifestyle would cause them to evolve such an unusual arrangement.
here is a very excellent diagram of modern bird foot structure (source below image also links to highly informative twitter thread if anyone is interested in further reading):
(source)
following these real-world patterns, we can see that the primary purpose of the backwards-facing toe, the hallux, is grasping [prey] and perching. this is a very significant digit, and we can see clearly that Chocobos do possess one. however, in species adapted to a lifestyle on the ground, eg. flightless birds, a long hallux is a hazard as it could easily be broken or cause tripping if it gets snagged on the ground. therefore the group of birds most well-adapted to running rather than flying, the Struthioniformes, show different foot structures in which the hallux has receded altogether, as seen on the left. Ostriches are the only bird in the world with didactyly, having only two toes as seen on the right.
(source)(source)
the interesting thing about Struthioniformes is that they are typically herbivorous in addition to being flightless, further removing the need for the hallux. there are, of course, other modern birds adapted to running that do display anisodactyly, such as the Seriema, or zygodactyly, such as the Roadrunner. a major difference in Seriemas and Roadrunners as opposed to Struthioniformes other than the ability to fly is that these birds are carnivorous.
(do you see where i'm going with this yet?)
something else about Chocobos strikes me as odd, and that's their beaks. this is where, unlike their feet, their design does vary from game to game, but a particular feature from more modern iterations, such as the FFIIV remake and FFXI, stands out to me.
i'm talking about the shape of their beak, and also that little hook on the bottom of their upper mandible. that's called the Tomium, and we see it in several classes of modern birds as well as some other animals like turtles. its function is serration of either flesh or vegetation. you can see it on this Red-tailed Hawk (left) as well as this Lear's Macaw (right):
(source) (source)
as both source links do a fantastic job of explaining, the differences in the hawk's beak designed for tearing flesh and the parrot's bill for tearing fruit are most evident in the variations on their shape and their relation to their skulls - the short of it is that the shorter skull of the parrot and its more dramatic overbite allow greater prying leverage against the shells of fruit and nuts, whereas the length of the hawk's skull and beak lend to ripping and cutting.
it does appear, interestingly, that different iterations of the Chocobo's beak fall along different points of the scale between the hawk beak and the parrot bill, but it looks to me that generally the Chocobo has a more uniform mandible size and longer skull. while the tomium, as i mentioned, can be used for tearing grasses like those that Chocobos are typically fed in various games, the scissorlike shape of the Chocobo's beak looks as though it would lend itself much more readily to tearing meat.
thus my study can be boiled down to two major factors based on Chocobo's design vs. evolutionary design: 1) the hallux is necessary for grasping, and Chocobos possess a hallux, and since they are flightless and do not need to perch, it stands to reason that the hallux must be needed for holding onto prey; and 2) the presence of the tomium combined with the shape of the Chocobo's skull indicates a meat-based diet.
i think now is a good time to introduce the Phorusrhacids, more commonly known as "Terror Birds". thankfully for us, these carnivorous flightless birds are now extinct, but the largest of their species could be up to 10 feet tall and dined on the ancestors of modern horses and deer. to support this lifestyle, they evolved strong anisodactyl feet for grasping prey and a strong curved beak for tearing it into bite-sized chunks. here is a reconstructed skeleton of a Terror Bird species, specifically Titanis walleri:
(source)
and here is an artist's rendition according to modern scientific understanding of the closely related Paraphysornis brasiliensis:
(source)
THAT SURE LOOKS FAMILIAR, DOESNT IT??
in conclusion, i think Chocobos are carnivores and may be Final Fantasy's modern living relatives of Terror Birds. thank you for coming to my TED talk. if you read this whole thing, please know that i love you and you are welcome to message me your favorite color so i can draw a Chocobo just for you <3
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Just some personal thoughts under the cut…
I was feeling a bit weird about veering slightly into torture porn with my recent writing, and then I reflected on why I’m so invested in putting my favorite character through hell when he does not at all deserve it. I think it’s a way to cope with helplessness. I don’t talk a lot about my feelings about the current genocide and the crushing feeling of not doing enough as one small person in the world—at least, I don’t talk about it here (I am more vocal and active outside of my presence on tumblr/online world), but there’s just so much shit right now that feels like a losing battle, and it’s easy to get sucked into numb apathy when everything you do seems to do nothing.
Of course, this is such a privileged place to be because my home is safe and I have my health and the freedom to go where I want and say the things I want, and I try to leverage that privilege where I can but it’s not enough and it’ll never be enough, and I feel guilty that I don’t do more. Teaching is wonderful and great, but I’m underpaid and overworked, and so much of my life is devoted to making sure kids not only learn to read but to think critically and care about other people even when we are all numbing ourselves to pain and the suffering of others because our brains are so limited in what we can absorb when there are so many terrible things that are happening in the world.
March is also the time of year where I start having suicide ideation. Something about winter lingering in the upper plains with that sort of suffocating grayness gets to me, especially this year following a practically snowless winter. This is also when most of the traumatic things that have shaped my life have happened, and even when I’m not actively thinking about those things, I can still feel them. (Don’t worry, I’m in therapy and I have a very good support system and my mental health is now very well-managed.)
That part of the fic where it says “Suffering was life but life was not only suffering, and once there had been joy and delight between the gasps of sorrow and hurt” is just me talking through my own feelings. Maybe I am sinking into the misery of this fic with a bit of zest, but it’s been really cathartic to make a character realize he wants to live in spite of the horrible things that have happened to him.
The first part of the second chapter was weirdly one of the most important things I’ve written for myself in a long time. Sirius realizes that yes, maybe he does want to live for Harry, but he wants to live for himself too, and even when you’ve been beaten and broken, it doesn’t mean that life can’t go one or that it isn’t worth trying. And you don’t really know if it’ll get worse when you come out of the thing you thought was the worst thing that could happen, but there is so much else that can and will happen too. Life swings like a pendulum, and it has to come back the other way because everything ends at some point even if it doesn’t end the way you wanted or hoped.
Anyway, this has been a very strange spring break, and I can’t believe I’m thinking this deeply about Sirius Black getting tortured and why it matters to me. So I guess, enjoy the whump/torture fic written by a formerly suicidal author if that helps you. Enjoy without guilt because exploring human suffering and cruelty and recovery through the safety of fiction is okay and probably good. Fiction isn’t real, but human emotion and our need for catharsis IS real.
And don’t worry because nobody dies in my fic. And yes, he will be rescued in the end.
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The top two characters will be eligible to proceed into the bracket!
Propaganda under the cut.
Skitter:
Do you know what you have to do to hurt someone in a fight if your whole power is “controls bugs?” It’s never pleasant. And this is a girl with an almost pathological drive to fight people theoretically much stronger than her. Much maggots-in-eyes and spiders-on-dicks ensue. Committed to being a hero initially, ends up becoming warlord of a whole city while defending it from super-poweeed spree killers, monstrous kaiju, and timeline-severing mobsters. Saves humanity through mass mind-control.
Shes so fucking morally ambiguous I don't even know where to start. She wanted to be a hero and then over the course of 1.7 million words she tricked me into thinking she was rational and ethically sound when she cut out someone's eyes, held someone's dying son hostage in front of them as leverage (she was killing the son), put maggots in someone else's eyes to eat them slowly, shot a fucking toddler with no hesitation, and she's such an amazing unreliable narrator that you root for her. She's genuinely so good at convincing herself that she's morally sound that she convinces the reader of it as well most of the time, but despite the atrocities (and there's a fucking ton of atrocities) she's genuinely a girl who wants to do good and help the world. She fights serial killers, provides food and water and shelter for people who need it, gets her back broken trying to save people, and is generally willing to do whatever it takes to help no matter what that entails. She's a girlboss who is terrifying and determined enough to kill god, she's willing to do anything for the greater good, she has a fucking orphanage as the bottom floor of her supervillain lair. She's so so complicated and such a twist of good and brutality and I cannot stress enough how compelling and morally ambiguous and girlboss she is. I have never seen a character who fits the title "morally ambiguous girlboss" more in my entire life and frankly I doubt I will, no one does it like her.
she went from aspiring hero > supervillain > warlord (still a supervillain) > hero > mind-controlling every cape in the multiverse to kill god. and she did kill god. so. girlboss. but on her first night out she used her bugs to bite a man's dick off. that man? trying to kill kids. those kids? teenage supervillains. she initially joined their teen supervillain group to betray them to the heroes, then joins for real. their boss kidnapped a preteen girl and got said girl addicted to drugs. he used a heist taylor was in as a distraction to kidnap the girl. taylor becomes a warlord and does all sorts of awful things to the other gangs in the city (including putting maggots in a guys eyes, and carving another man's eyes out (bug dick guy) (everything grew back)). the reason she did this? so she could kill her boss and free the preteen girl. She's taken over the city at this point, she's a warlord running a supervillain gang. what's she doing with this power? improving the city's infrastructure. she runs her territory like a panopticon, if anybody who can work isn't working they get the bugs. she's also running an orphanage out of her home. she decides to step down as warlord and join the heroes. while she's in custody, what does she do? that's right. kill superman via dry land drowning in bugs. now she's a superhero. she does stakeouts and pursues gangs to force their younger/more sympathetic members into superheroism. why? to fight the end of the world. the end of the world comes, god is killing every earth in the multiverse and things aren't looking good. what does taylor do? she asks a bio-kinetic who got sent to supervillain alcatraz for sister rape to give her on-the-spot brain surgery. this brain surgery lets her control any person within like 18 feet of her. she uses a portal guy to manage to ensnare every cape in the multiverse and unite them in her fight against god. One cape has a stress induced aneurysm. how do they ultimately defeat god? she makes large-scale replicas of his dead wife everywhere, making him so sad he becomes killable. girlboss. (sorry this was so long! i started and then just kept going. worm is 1.68 million words long and a lot happens in it)
Holy Shit. Holy SHIT dude. She rotted a man's dick off with spider venom. and then she did it again (it grew back). and then she cut his eyes out. this is the first guy she meets. she mutilates *so many* people. one time she withheld a life-saving epinephrine shot from a dying man (he was allergic to bees. she controls bees.) as extortion material. she shoots a baby (it was a mercy). She cut a girl in half (which was actually pretty high up there on the "most heroic things she did" list). She was Seinfeldian rivals with the most dangerous serial killer in existence, until she trapped him in Hell Forever. He's like still there by the end of the second book. she kills God by bullying him to death. All* of this was probably the best thing she could have done in the situation. the tagline of the book is "doing the wrong things for the right reasons." The worst thing she ever really did was to pretend she was straight though.
Did she kill an orphan? Yes. Did she put maggots into a man’s eyes? Yes. Did she do all of this while having intense homoerotic tension? Yes, and that is why she is a girlboss. She also killed Jesus
Tattletale
She has a power and her power is being an asshole. Her supervillain name is Tattletale because she will not shut up about things you didn’t want the world to know. I mean yes she does try to save people but she’s mostly saving them because less people means less lives to ruin!
Miss Militia was submitted without propaganda.
Bonesaw was submitted without propaganda.
#poll#tournament poll#qualifiers#worm web serial#parahumans#wildbow#taylor hebert#skitter#lisa wilbourn#tattletale#miss militia#riley davis#riley grace davis#bonesaw#wormblr
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