#almas reads comics

[unworthingtons]

52 (2006)

[lazuruspit]

Dog Days Are Over — (m)

pairing: miguel o’hara/afab!reader  content warnings: unhealthy coping mechanisms, emotional baggage, established relationship, angst and smut in the form of cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected sex wc: 3.9k summary: Feeling broken following a particularly perilous mission, you find yourself hanging on by tendrils. Lucky for you, Miguel’s always there to pick your pieces back up. a/n: its come to this..... cant believe its come to this. i was debating posting this on my dc tumblr blog since this is comic centric but... whatever. enjoyyyy

ao3

Miguel’s muscles are tense. Rigid, tight, like a disciplined dancer. He’s hunched over his console, shoulders square and eyebrows taut. His jaw is tense, tongue rounded into the corner of his cheek, hair falling like spun-thread sable over his hooded eyes.

His fingers—dry, jaded, thick—curl around the lip of his instrument panel. His forearm flexes beneath the spandex of his suit, veins popping with the strength in which he grasps the dashboard. He grunts, eyes tired, and speaks without turning.

“I can feel you thinking over there,” Miguel rasps. 

You flush, a little embarrassed to be caught but– not surprised. Miguel’s constantly heedful; a predator perpetually stalking its prey. 

“Sorry,” you hum, resting your shoulder against the metal door of Miguel’s private room, jamming your hands in the pockets of your casualwear.

He slightly turns. “What are you doing, standing there? Come in, don’t act modest.”

Then the thick sensation of soiled cotton balls seems to fill your nose: you're here for a specific reason, and the very thought of letting Miguel in on that secret seems to seize your every thought.

“What is it, mi alma?” Miguel asks, gaze centred on a labyrinth of holograms of different Spider-People in different universes. Despite that, his focus—each of his five heightened senses—are attuned to you. 

So, after blindly sweeping the holograms away, Miguel turns to you, resting himself and his hands against the edge of his console. His body language reads of vulnerability—something he hopes you’ll do for him, as well. He can tell something is off.

You inhale, loiter your eyes across his body, then exhale. It’s rare to see Miguel in casual clothing at headquarters—rarer to others, but not so much to you. 

(Miguel always shows you a different side of him. Both figuratively and literally. You’re the only one he’ll bare himself to, let you see him jaded and threadbare after he was hit a little too hard.)

Miguel tilts his head, his band tee riding over his navel garnished with a brown scruff that disappears into his sweatpants, hanging low on his hips.

He slowly reaches out and traces your cheek. Miguel’s hands are rough—a testament to his decades of Spider-Man discipline—but the whispering caress with which he cups your cheek offsets that fact. He curls his lower lip out, pinches his eyebrows.

“ ¿Qué pasa? ” He asks, tucking a wisp of hair behind your ear. 

He’s gentle, so gentle with you, and you hate it. It makes it so much harder for you to say what you need to. 

Asphalt thickens and settles in your throat. You look away, and flinch at the cold absence of Miguel’s comforting stare. So you chance a glance back, and bite your lip as you study his concerned mien.

“You’re making me a bit nervous,” Miguel mirthlessly chuckles, struggling to fill the pregnant air.

“No, don’t worry,” you hurry, moving to hold Miguel’s cheeks, trace the streamlines of his numerous scars, “last thing I need is you worrying.”

“Well, with a little shit like you, I do a lot of worrying,” Miguel says, crossing his eyes to twirl a strand of hair around a finger, “I’ve already got grey hairs, mierda .”

His words carry no real malice, but still, Miguel’s words are only the shell of a joke. His eyes fog over as he says it. He’s referring to last month's injury: a deep slash running like a scythe of death against your thigh—something that almost was death—if it wasn’t for Hobie swooping in and tackling Earth-95’s Doc Ock to the ground before you bled out.

“Well…” you start, straightening– then wincing, upon being gravely reminded of your fresh wound that stretches and pulls, “you won’t have to worry for a little while… I’ll be out of your hair.”

Miguel’s eyes marginally widen. He pushes himself off the console, blinking a few times.

“Your grey hair,” you belatedly decide to tack on. 

“No,” Miguel shakes his head, brushing past your lame attempt at a joke. His pinched features sober into something a little more soft, and you’re regretful that you won’t get to enjoy it much considering the news you’re about to break to him, “What are you talking about?” 

You inhale sharply. “I’m… I’m going home for a bit, Miggy–”

And that’s the moment panic seizes him. Miguel stands up straight, his sheer body mass and height eclipsing your vision, and places his hands on your waist.

“No, you’re not, what are you–?”

“But I am, Miggy. I’m going home. Just for a little bit, okay?” It’s hard to keep the warble out of your voice. It’s hard to miss it, too.

(It’s not the warble Miguel has come to love. Not the one that billiards past your lips and into the shell of his ear, as his fingers are knuckle-deep nestled inside of you and crooked. It’s not the tight whimper he bullies out of you as he sinks his cock past your cunt’s first ring of muscle. It isn’t one of your kitten moans, when you puckishly curl into Miguel’s arm late at night, resting on his chest as you muse about everything and nothing. This is a new cadence—one he doesn’t like—one like the little cry of anguish that wafted past your lips as Hobie lay dead, a spot that should’ve been yours.) 

“Mi alma…” Miguel peters off.

You clear your throat. “I talked to Jess… well, we talked to each other…” 

Miguel hates where this is going. He also hates that the diablo on his shoulders asks, “why couldn’t she come to me?” instead of being glad you confided in someone at all. He furrows his brows, listening.

“We think– we think it’s best I just go home for a while,” you cough out a bland chuckle, “maybe she just wants me gone—and I can’t blame her—but… I think… I don’t know. Maybe you can give me some of Margo’s tech.”

“... Why not stay here?” Miguel says, with me, he so desperately wants to tack on, but he reminds himself that this isn’t about him. This is about you, and the slow supernova to your eyes. 

(He made the deaths of his fiancée and daughter about him. Miguel’s learned that moving on is finding a new flower to nurture, standing an arms length away to let it bloom.)

“... Okay,” Miguel whispers, “how… how long will you be gone?” 

You shrug, and Miguel’s face pains.

“That’s okay,” he hurries, trying a smile, “as long as you need, mi alma.” 

Miguel steps closer, pulling you into his arms. Strong, protective, warm… you’re inclined to slip into a dream, leave all your problems behind. 

“Just close your eyes,” Miguel whispers, running his fingers through your hair.

You bury your face in Miguel’s chest, choking back a tight, tiny whimper.

“Can’t,” you murmur, “I still see him.” 

Pain physically throttles Miguel’s heart at that. He wishes he could take away your pain, just as you had taken away his, and his breath, and all forms of cognition. But… he doesn’t know what to say to that. He doesn’t know how to say the right thing, let alone what the right thing is. So Miguel opts to plant a kiss to the crown of your head, where your unwashed face and brittle hair meet. 

You pull back after that, just scarcely enough to stare into Miguel’s eyes, wishing you could fall into them.

“Miggy…” you breathlessly utter, like a prayer, an olive branch of atonement, “I need…”

Miguel rests his forehead against yours. “What is it that you need? Tell me. Tell me everything.” 

You don’t tell, you show. Timidly. You rake your shaky palms lower, shucking Miguel’s crop top over your hands, placing a kiss to the corner of his jaw.

“Mi alma…” he lightly scolds, catching your wrist within his big palm, “not now.”

“Why not?” You croon, wrapping your arms over Miguel’s shoulders and behind his thick neck.

“We can’t,” he tells himself, more than you, “you’re…”

“Needy–”

“Not thinking straight–” 

“Wet.”

Miguel’s breath hitches. Right in the middle of his throat, it catches, tripping and tumbling out of his mouth as a tight cough. 

"Mierda..."

You lean in close, brushing your lips against his collarbone. “It’s what I need right now, Miggy, won’t you give me what I need?”

Miguel’s lips wrap around your name as he quietly whispers it. “I want to give you everything.” 

“So?” You say, forlorn, “Will you make me feel good?” 

“I’ll do anything,” Miguel whispers. It’s a promise; it’s atonement.

Miguel spins you around with his hands on your hips and bullies you backwards, trapping you against the lip of the console. He slides his palms on either side of your neck, cranes your head up, and plants a smooch to your lips. 

“Mi alma…” he mumbles into the kiss, slotting his thick thigh between your legs. 

Miguel kneads your hips and tugs you down on his leg, flexing it, guiding you back and forth as you grind your pussy over the strong sinews of his muscled thigh. You whine, clutching his shirt, and beg for more, a little sniffle crossing your swollen lips. 

Miguel runs his hands down, fingers biting into the fat of your thighs as he lifts you up, plopping you atop the control panel. From there, he nestles himself between your legs, and shucks your shirt (his shirt) over and around your head, moving to suck your neck. 

You shiver as his fangs graze your pulse point. You dig your fingers into his tousled hair and pull, mired in the sweet cacophony of Miguel’s moans, softened by the way his lips are pressed into your collarbone. He ruts his cock against the supple skin of your inner-thigh, baring his fangs as the cotton of his sweatpants reduces friction. 

Miguel comes up for air just as you sink your fingers beneath the hem of his sweatpants. You drag them down with sparse tugs, revelling at the sight of his cock that strains against the taut fabric of his boxer-briefs as his sweats pool at his feet. 

You sprawl your hand atop his dick and palm him softly, squeezing the fat mass of muscle that tents from his boxer-briefs. You peer up at him, doe eyes pleading, and Miguel sinks to his knees.

He cranes his neck up at you, musing a corporeal prayer to the altar that is your body, and kisses a trail up your flesh. Miguel latches onto your shorts and pulls them down, puckering his mouth before kissing your clothed clit. The excited bud pulses under the plush of Miguel’s lips, swelling, slick as your arousal oozes out of your cunt, sticking to your panties, outlining the barest hint of your soft pussy. 

After the kiss, Miguel shifts upward, and sinks his fangs into the gauzy material of your panties. He hooks it with his teeth, dragging the soiled fabric down your legs and off your ankles before lowering again, kneeling eye-level to the winking of your dewy cunt. You quiver and raise your legs, placing your feet onto the counter, baring your sticky pussy to Miguel, spreading yourself open with careful fingers.

“So pretty, my love,” he mumbles, popping drunken smooches onto the buttery inside of your trembling legs, “ todo mío .”

Miguel paints your thighs in a mosaic of love bites, inching towards the pulsing beat of your cunt as he settles in front of it, unfurls his tongue, and lays it flat against your folds. 

He licks a fat, warm stripe up your slit, growling as you coil your thighs around his full shoulders and thick neck and hasp him closer. You twist a fistful of Miguel’s dark hair between your fingers, pulling him closer, meagrely grinding your sweet clit against his cracked lips and the bump on his nose.

(You always did tell him he lacked vitamin D, needed to eat more oranges. Miguel thought it was fruitless—that you kissing him, having your chapstick smear against his lips, would be ample moisturiser for his dry mouth.

You had to force the serums on him. Miguel gets too caught up in his web of responsibilities and thawed regrets, oftentimes neglecting himself. So you clutch him by the jaw, the rough flesh of his half-sunken cheeks from empanadas in the cafeteria spilling over your fingers, and smooth some of your chapstick onto his lips. It’s cute, he gets nervous; reverting his stare to the ostentatious ceiling of HQ and sticking it there, too shy to meet your gaze as you get too close.)

Miguel pulls away for air, a wash of your precum glistening his chin. He darts his tongue out to clean it up—a fang peeking out in the process—winking under the lustre as it catches the light. You whine at the loss of Miguel’s tongue buried between your folds, inclined to use your web shooter to stick him back in place.

But Miguel’s quicker. “Patience,” he says, placating you with a kiss, letting your taste percolate into your mouth as he cards his tongue past your teeth.

“We’ve got to stretch you open first, don’t we? Hm?”

You loosely nod, breathless.

“That’s right,” he says, “it’s always quite the tight fit.”

Miguel stands between your legs and eclipses your world, readying his thick fingers by running them between your folds, lubing them up.

“Ready for me?” He asks, looking through your eyes and into your soul.

You answer with a kiss—one that says so much more than yes . It’s a barter, where you hand your life over to Miguel, and a promise to find him in every universe. 

Miguel’s lips tilt up in a fickle smile as he sinks a large finger in, followed by another, moving to rest his forehead against yours.

“I hate you,” he whispers, pumping his fingers in-and-out, “for making me weak, making me break my promise.”

(As Miguel’s inflexion weakens, he hides his face in the crook of your neck. It’s obvious what promise he’s talking about: the vow made to the corpses of his child and fiancée. That he wouldn’t move on, that he’d turn black and blue in the name of penance. 

But then you came along; crashing into his world like the luminous death of a star. 

And just like it, albeit destructive, powerful and bright, he couldn’t look away.)

Miguel continues, blindly sweeping at your clit, rolling his jaded thumb over it as he scissors you open.

“I hate you for leaving me,” he finishes, crooking his fingers a little deeper, a little meaner , into the warmth of your pussy. 

“I– I’m not…” you pant, too caught up in Miguel fucking you with his fingers to form a better defence.

“I know,” he nods, his forehead still pressed against yours—a tender blip in the streamline of his fingers’ thrusts, “you’ll come back when you’re better, and things will go back to normal.”

Miguel buries his fingers knuckle-deep, pawing and circling at the sticky walls of your pussy.

He rolls your clit with a deft thumb and latches onto your neck, biting and kissing.

(The nipping is a sign of defiance from Miguel, the reluctance of letting you go, and the kissing… because he’s seen the catatonic look in your eyes. Your face—usually sweet, albeit scarred—leaden with guilt as you broke the news to the Spider-Society.

Guilt doesn’t look good on you, Miguel decided. Only puckish smiles. Only sheepish glances.)

Just your face, moulded into extreme pleasure as your orgasm draws close, eyes squeezed shut and nails digging into his flexing forearm. That’s what looked good on you.

Miguel doesn’t fasten his pace as you tail your orgasm. Just keeps thrusting his fingers, thumb pressing into your clit, lips sweetly trailing your jaw.

He curls them once more, pushing the pads of his fingers deeper, into the squishy-spot inside you that has your jaw slacking, head tipped back, baring your neck, and your orgasm cresting to new heights.  

Miguel’s keenly aware, pouncing onto your pulse-point and licking the sheet of sweat off of your skin as he keeps finger-fucking you, walking you through your orgasm.

“That’s it,” Miguel praised, lending you his broad shoulder as you quivered.

(The two of you have been in this position before—vulnerable, trembling, except those times you were bonding over the rigours of vigilantism and regret and baring the skeleton’s in your closet to each other, not panting from the tremors of your orgasm.)

“More,” you whined, cupping Miguel’s face, acutely aware of the absence of his cheeks—sullen, instead.

Miguel tries a smile and slides his hands under your thighs, picking you up, carrying you over to a low table, setting you down.

He bullies you onto your back and nudges your legs open with his knee, brushing his knuckles over your clit. The bud is still sensitive, so you flinch under Miguel’s touch. 

(A part of you always thought he was bad for you. Miguel was your becoming, but…

he also was your eventual doing.)

“My girl,” he mumbles, “my pretty, pretty girl. Te amo.”

(You ask yourself… why does your response get stuck in your throat?)

Miguel pulls away, only marginally enough to tug down his boxer-briefs. The fabric stretches against his thighs as his cock springs out, softly slapping his navel, red and leaking precum, solid, angry , standing tall.

He holds your gaze as he gives his dick a few jerks, heavy balls lightly bouncing as Miguel steps out of his boxer-briefs, sets your calves atop his shoulders, and cuts his fingers into your thighs.

“Do you need me? As bad as I need you, mi alma?” He asks, and it’s obvious he isn’t just talking about sex.

But you nod, silently because you don’t trust yourself—you don’t think you ever have—and edge yourself closer to the lip of the table, egging Miguel on.

He expels a breathless chuckle, and slips his heavy dick between the fat of your cunt, rubbing himself with your dewy folds.

“ Mierda… ” he grunts, slapping his cock against the velvet of your inner thighs, “you drive me fucking crazy.” 

You smile lazily, wrapping your legs around Miguel’s lithe waist, beseeching him with rolling hips and pleading eyes for him to just fuck you already . 

Miguel smiles as he sinks the fat head of his cock past your tight ring of muscle, his face squeezing into pleasure.    

He keeps going—slowly, filling out your every ridge—until he kisses your pelvis and almost folds you in half. You’ve never felt so full . Miguel makes a home in your tummy, pressing down on your navel as he feels for his cock, feels it pulse and throb in your pussy. 

Miguel pulls his hips away, and you throw your head back as his cock drags along your walls, his fingers toying your clit. He lowers over you, folding you in half and into a press, leaning down to catch you in a kiss. 

This way, Miguel eclipses your entire world. Your lips, your sex, your every inch; he’s your body’s beginning and end.

Miguel slams himself back inside of you and you squeal. It’s jarring—how gravely different Miguel’s fast-paced, desperate thrusts are to the gentle way he holds your face to his, peppering kisses on your cheeks.

He presses so close, as if trying to mould your souls into one. His mutated DNA comes out at this time—like clockwork—and he loses composure, clawing you close, hips snapping into you as he growls into your neck.

His thick brows furrow, full lips tightening, beads of sweat running down his sinewy back that you scrabble at as an outlet for the sharp thrusts Miguel drives into your wet cunt. Your walls flutter around him and you swoon, his hands sneaking under your shirt, running over your pebbled nipples, tweaking them between his jaded fingers. 

“Miggy–” you whine, twisting tufts of his hair in your hands, digging your nails into his muscly shoulders, “I want it all, please. Please give it to me.”

Miguel feels himself tiptoeing the edge of sanity. Yes, a thousand times yes, he’d give you anything you ask. His life, if you wanted it; his heart served on a silver platter; his skin, his bones, his cartilage. 

But Miguel knows what you mean. Because he wants it too. That primal little scratch at the back of his head kindles to life just as Miguel feels his balls tightening. When he feels you clench down on him, back arching, he can tell you’re close too. 

(Miguel knows you well. A little bit more than he’d like to, because he could see the exact day the light left your eyes. How they didn’t light up again upon seeing him. 

And Miguel chose to ignore it.)

He holds you a little closer, weaving his fingers with yours, grunting against your lips. 

Your orgasm washes over you as the sea extends into the sand. It’s all at once cold, blistering, and envelopes you whole, leaving no room for thought of anything else. You squeeze your eyes closed as you gush over Miguel’s cock, panting, rutting your hips up and meeting him halfway as he empties his balls inside of you.

“There we go,” Miguel breathes, pushing his cock into you a few more times until it can’t possibly go any deeper, filling you with his seed, “that’s it.”

You stare at each other as his cock softens inside you. It’s left to marinate a bit, still lightly pulsing, throbbing within your sensitive cunt. Then, Miguel shoves his face into your clavicle, noses your sweaty flesh, and deeply inhales. 

He wants to remember your scent, the last moment you shared before you returned to your universe for however long you needed to be there. 

(Your scent isn’t your usual one, though. Usually it’s sweet. Salty if it’s after training. But today it’s tangy—bitter. Miguel doesn’t like it, but he inhales nonetheless, damned if he’d let you go before committing this moment to memory.)

Miguel pulls away, an unstable smile gracing his lips. He works himself back into his sweatpants and helps you get dressed, nerves coiling in his stomach. 

When you turn to look at him, fully dressed, eyes dark, he gulps.

Miguel walks closer, sets his hands on your waist.

“When will I see you again?” He asks.

“Before you can say the word S-Man .” 

Miguel folds his lips, but nods. 

You look down at the watch secured to your wrist, fighting the scowl that betrays your emotions. It looks like a house arrest brace, and you suppose it's not that far off, either, holding you down in place. Constantly. 

But you key in your Earth and stare as it projects a kaleidoscopic threshold before you, twirling with golds and greens and whites. 

You turn to Miguel and step closer, eyes welling up as you set a palm to his cheek, kissing him. 

(It’s cursory, Miguel thinks. Because you’ll come back one day, finish what you started; finish the kiss, Miguel tells himself.)

You turn around and walk into the egress, a weight lifted off of your shoulders; the weight transferred to Miguel.

The portal closes, and your smell hangs thickly in the air.

With you, you had taken the rest of Miguel’s heart.

And he hasn’t gotten it back.

That was the last time he ever saw you.

[ineylesian]

ME, OR HIM?

─ SIMON “GHOST” RILEY X FEM! READER

AO3 | MASTERLIST | CODENAME: FANGS MASTERLIST

WORD COUNT | 4k+

SUMMARY | las almas was burning at the hands of the shadow company. and you…

you had disappeared on the site of the fuerzas especiales HQ betrayal without a single trace to follow. in under 24 hours you were declared an alpha threat to the task force. Now, the city was under a veil of death and horror, words of commandment spread under the names graves and cobra.

yet, there was still digging to be done, and lieutenant simon “ghost” riley wasn’t quite done with you. after all, cobras always have a reason to strike.

WARNINGS | smut, vaginal sex, overstimulation, fingering, cunnilingus, jealous sex, implied graves x reader, biting, scratching, canon typical violence, ghost being a jealous hoe

AUTHOR’S NOTE | god i am literally such a whore for ghost it’s unreal. also, reader goes by the codename cobra, so you’ll know what that means when it pops up. graves also calls you fangs a few times bc he’s sexy like that

THIS WORK IS MEANT TO BE WRITTEN IN AN ADULT READER’S POINT OF VIEW. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

“Cobra? Do you copy”

“Cobra. Come in, it’s Ghost.”

“Y/n? Do you read me?”

A soft buzz echoed inside your earpiece as the static began to fade, melting desperate calls to the distant fizzle of newborn embers. Your earpiece was gingerly unhooked from your ear before a pair of arms hoisted you up, gently setting you to slump against the nearest wall.

“You awake, Fangs?”

Your eyes slowly peaked open from the call of a familiar voice, leading you to drag an arm over your eyelids before prying them fully open. Just a few inches away from you kneeled Graves, sifting through a small first aid kit laid out on the ground below. He glanced over to see that you were indeed alive, offering a soft smile your way before returning to the half assembled needle in his hand.

“Hey.” Your eyes shot back open at the feeling of him rolling one of your sleeves up. “Try and sit still. You’ll feel a Hell of a lot better in a few seconds.”

Droplets of rain kissed the newly exposed patch of your skin, coating the area in a gloss that gave way to the thin veins below. Graves ran a gloved hand along your forearm, stopping just before your elbow to bring the needle right beside his pointer finger. You hissed at the sudden feeling of a sharp tick in your arm, yet found yourself gasping at the surges of heat that came right after it. Your hands subconsciously clamped around Graves’ shoulders as the flames of adrenaline licked through your blood, ending in the faint scent of smoke nearby.

“That’s it, Fangs. You’re alright.” Graves affirmed, tucking your loose arm around his neck before pulling you to stand. “You okay to stand?”

“Yeah.”

Graves nodded, allowing you to untangle yourself from his upper region and stand straight. Your gaze was soon pulled from your dirtied vest as he dropped your earpiece on the ground, smashing it dead into the dirt with his boot. Before you could even articulate a response to his sudden agression, your attention was pulled to the sound of approaching tires.

“Your men, I’m guessing?” You questioned, taking the new earpiece from his extended hand. “What’s going on here, Graves?”

The man before you simply shook his head, signaling to the oncoming vehicle with a wave. You grit your teeth at him, taking his outstretched arm before pulling him into a shaded patch of the alleyway.

“You wanna fucking explain that stunt you pulled back at Fuerzas, huh?” You growled, shoving his back against the soddened walls. “Playing Mr. Nice Guy doesn’t work on your enemies, Phi.”

“You think I have a choice, Y/n?” Graves snapped back, tilting his head almost comically at you. “In case you forgot, we are OWNED by Shepherd, whether we like it or not. I did the best I could.”

“COMMANDER GRAVES?”

You pulled off of him at the sound of pounding footsteps, emerging from the shadows with a grim expression set upon your features. Graves was quick to follow, adjusting his vest before leaning down to level with your ear.

“We lost our rights to free will a while ago, Fangs. But that doesn’t change a damn thing when it comes to you, okay?”

An erratic chill ran down your spin as Graves used the last of his cover to run a hand along your side, stopping to give your wrist a light squeeze before fully emerging into the light.

He was right. You had lost your right to life two months ago. But choosing not to fight back? Turning on the people who had the most capacity to apprehend Shepherd?

“… right on. Cobra and I will lead you through a sweep of the city. Remember, it’s the police we’re after. Do what you have to, but try your best to limit civilian casualties.”

“But sir, Shepherd confirmed that we had full, unrestricted reign of the city?”

Silence coated the atmosphere in a blanket of suffocating static, pulling Graves’ jaw taut as he gripped the sides of his vest tighter.

He knew this isn’t what you’d have wanted. The scrutinizing judgment of your ill-witted gaze drilling him from the back was enough to say so. You knew Phillip Graves never wanted his life to play out like it did for the past two years. And you knew he tried to play hero, but at the end of the day, both his life and yours had always mattered more than anything else.

“Of course, do as you must.”

And you were just as bad as him, holding what could be potential liberation behind tongue tied thoughts. But instead of speaking up, you nodded your soldiers off, slipping a hand into one of the many pockets on Graves’ vest as you slipped by. A look of deep solemn was sent his way, captivating his gaze even as gunfire began to light up the dim space around you, ending with a gleam of remorse before the sun disappeared.

You watched as he turned his back, typing a set of eight numbers in the device you stole before dropping it into the mud, kicking it deeper, and moving to join him.

Maybe you could do something before all Hell broke loose.

———

ONE WEEK AFTER THE INCIDENT. / A WAREHOUSE SOMEWHERE ALONG THE OUTSKIRTS OF LAS ALMAS.

“Cobra. I trust you’ve been having successes in finding Hassan’s location?”

“Negative, sir. She won’t speak without Alejandro present. With Graves’ report on the prison break, I’m afraid we’ll have to open negotiations back up.”

A noise of disapproval crept it ways through your earpiece, moving you to sit straight whilst watching Shepherd from the edge of your screen.

“Find Hassan, Cobra. I don’t care how. Golden Eagle out.”

You closed the computer with a sigh, standing up to make way for the armory. A suppressed DMR was grabbed and strapped on top of a lightweight vest, followed by a silencer pistol strapped to your thigh. A line of smokes and frags were clicked onto your belt, finishing off by smoothing your hair back and pulling a black balaclava over your face.

Midnight was approaching fast, leaving you with nearly 20 minutes to reach your destination. Emerging outside, you fastened your DMR to a clip on your vest before spinning your keys in place, letting one foot fall to the ground as you swung yourself onto your vehicle. The engine of your motorcycle raged to life as you yanked your keys against the ignition, leaving a mass of dust in your wake as you tapped the gas, setting off for the barren roads ahead.

The time on your watch had just flashed to 11:59 as you eased to a stop, setting your bike to lay against the sand before dropping beside it. Flicking your thermal scope onto your DMR, you set the gun down against the cool grounds below, finger hovering the trigger as you peered at a warehouse nearly 100 meters ahead. Breathing in, you focused your crosshairs on a pair of guards on the perimeter’s outskirts, lowering down on the trigger as one of them moved in position for a collateral.

Your eyes snapped to the side as a third man dropped in the corner of your scope, winding a faint smile upon your face as you rose up from the ground. Small piles of sand kicked up behind your footsteps as you broke into a sprint, watching bodies drop in the near distance with every footstep you took.

There would only be 10 internal guards at this time. 20 on the outside and dropping rapidly made easy work of it, allowing you to slip in through a side gate completely unnoticed.

A stray guard stationed on the main roof caught your attention, leading you to snatch a half cracked beer bottle off the ground before moving forward. Peaking your head above a ladder, you rose your hand when he glanced away, tossing the bottle a few meters in the opposite direction. Following a string of confused murmurs and the turn of his back, you mounted the roof and ran up behind him, spinning him by his shoulders before jamming a knife into his jugular.

Now came the hardest part, eliminating the ones inside. You couldn’t pick them off one by one since the area was so compact, and starting a gunfight could prove risky. The only one safe way you could think of led you to crouch beside one of the roof’s skylights, peering down at a clump of guards that sat directly below you.

A soft click sounded from your belt as you pulled a smoke bomb from it, smashing a small hole in the glass before dropping it in. The rise of agitated coughs led you to flip on the infrared lens on your goggles, dropping down onto a crate before taking your last fall onto the chest of a guard.

Frenzied gunfire rang out as blinded guards screamed in confusion, their rasps soon cut short by a swift sequence of knives jutted to their skin. You made easy work of the first 5 that had been grouped up, but the rest had already been alerted, and were approaching fast.

You dropped another canister of smoke before sliding against one of the numerous crates in the warehouse, peaking out to see a red, thermal mass just a few feet away. His legs were kicked from behind as you spun your knife to his front, spurting a thick trail of blood into the mist at the expense of his esophagus. A chain of horrific screams echoed throughout the space as you moved forward in rapid, deadly progression, grabbing the last man’s head before putting a silenced bullet in the base of his skull.

A click pushed past your tongue as you knelt down, swiping a now bloodied keycard out of the guard’s pocket. However, you could only freeze in shock as the sound of a cocked gun rang out from your front, leading you to stare straight into the barrel once the last of the smoke cleared.

“Don’t move.”

You raised your hands in defeat, allowing the guard to reach forward and snatch the covering off of your face. The moment his eyes widened was the same a sharp object whizzed just meters past your head, allowing him to mutter a single word before slumping to the ground.

“Cobra.”

His body was kicked to the side, allowing you to step out of the pools of blood that coated your boots and turn around. The sight before you drew a thin sigh from your lips, leading you to avert your gaze at the sound of approaching footsteps.

You couldn’t believe he’d actually followed your message.

“Ghost.”

His eyes traveled to your face, taking in the fresh strokes of red that coated your cheek, soon narrowing into a look you couldn’t decipher. However, if there was one thing you could pick up, it was anger.

“These people, they’re..” he blinked roughly, looking back up to you with a newfound glint of confusion resting in the small corner of light that sat there. “Tell me everything, now.”

“I doubt there’s much you really need to know.”

“Wrong choice.” The harsh bark in his tone grazed your ears as he began walking forward, roughly grabbing the hem of your vest to push you into a nearby crate. “Come clean to me. Right. Now.”

“Tell me what they’ve told you.”

A frustrated sigh passed through the lower region of his mask, followed by the slight tilt of his head downward.

“Shadow Company. Almost an entire section of Las Almas slaughtered.” His voice grew with each passing word, sucking in a sharp breath before looking back up at you. “Graves’ closest advisor.”

You could do nothing but nod.

“I had no control over what he did, Ghost. Shepherd has him wrapped around his finger, I-“

“So you just sit and let him kill all of these innocent people?” He growled, pressing you further into the metal. “You could’ve prevented all of this.. but you..”

“Fucking Hell Simon- don’t say it.”

“You’re in love with that bastard, aren’t you?”

His hand tugged violently on your vest, some fingers moving into the collar of your jacket. Following the upward aggression, one of his knees pressed into your thigh, forcing you to cower under him.

“No, you don’t understand.” You snapped, eyes narrowing dangerously. “I saved him back in Al Mazrah. He owes me his life.”

“And what about us, Cobra?” He spat, leaving just a few inches of space between your noses. “You’ve been with the Task Force way longer, and now you suddenly want to act all high and mighty because your team failed?”

“That was NOT our fault.” You snarled, roughly shaking against his grasp. “We had no choice but to follow Shepherd’s orders, you know that!”

“Fine, but the choices you’ve made up until now? Those are on you.”

You grit your teeth firmly together before swiping one of your feet against Ghosts’ leg, taking his stagger to spin him to where you had been moments prior. Kicking a body towards you, your hands forced his head down, the edge of your boot pointing to the Shadow Company’s insignia sewed into left side of one of the guard’s chests.

“I’m killing my men for the Task Force, Simon. I betrayed my squadron, sent you those coordinates, and you still have the nerve to say I’m acting high and mighty? Do you hear yourself?”

Silence.

“I did this all for you, not Graves.”

You.. meaning the Task Force, of course. Not “you” for the man pressesd flush against your chest, hands running along your forearms, stopping to clamp against your wrists in a fluid squeeze.

“But you’re still going to go back to him, aren’t you?”

You sighed through your nose, unlinking one of his hands from your wrist to rest beside his mask. The eyes above you fluttered nearly shut, holding you in a squint that proved he already knew the answer to that question.

“I have no choice.”

Your hand traveled to the side, languidly hooking a finger under his mask, pulling just high enough to expose his mouth and the stubble coating the skin around it. Before you knew it, he dipped his head down to pounce on your lips, teeth knitting against the soft flesh in a sudden course of hunger.

“Let me have you tonight, then, Cobra.”

It was true, you had no choice when it came to your situation. The mere thought of Shepherd catching you with Ghost made your skin crawl.. but right now, you had him, and you weren’t going to take that for granted. A major mistake, maybe, betraying every ill word you’ve spoken to him in frustrated lust.

Yet, you nodded, allowing him to pick you up and set you away from the mass of bodies you had been standing near.

Gloved hands snaked under your arms the moment you touched the ground, moving to unclip your vest and toss it to the ground beside you. His hands continued to roam along the expanse of your jacket, tugging the zipper down in one harsh movement before taking your belt along with it.

“Do you let Graves touch you like this?”

You bit your lip, shamelessly lifting the bottom of his jacket up to access his belt.

“None of your business.”

He shook his head, knowing what that entailed; fingers moving to fiddle with your pants as well.

“Lucky bastard.”

Ghost took no leisure in sliding your panties down once he popped the button holding your jeans open, tugging one of his gloves off with his teeth before tossing it to the side. His index finger plunged to circle around your folds, rousing a deep sigh from his throat at the feeling of your slick coating his fingers.

“Fucking Hell…”

You whimpered as that same finger suddenly pushed inside of you, the sensitivity of the sudden intrusion making you clamp around him. Only a few shallow pumps sufficed for him until he added the second finger, making sure to stretch them open inside of you before moving forward. You bit back a moan as his fingers curled against your sweet spot, the look in your eyes telling him all he needed to know anyway.

His speed picked up with every short thrust inside your walls, eventually rousing a quiet moan from your lips as your head fell back. A soft hum followed the crude noise, only encouraging him to run his other hand along the bundle of nerves above. Your teeth gnawed at your lips at the feeling of rough velcro abusing the outside of your pussy, each sloppy rub of his fingers sending a pleasant shock through your system.

“Fucking Graves.” Ghost mumbled, thrusting his fingers in you particularly hard at the thought of the man. “Wish he was here to watch someone else touch you like- this.”

You bit your hand as his fingers curled on the last word, heating the coil snaking around your midsection tenfold.

“Let me hear you, lovie.” He reached up, prying your hand away from your mouth. “What do you want me to do?”

“Fuck, Simon, keep going.”

You felt yourself growing closer to an orgasm with each approaching second, hands slapping the metal behind you to relieve the heat. Ghost’s thrusts were nothing short of sloppy now, three fingers in at their cruel pace.

“That’s it, come on my fingers. Nice and slow.”

You’d never admit it, but he had such a fucking way with words. So much that one sentence alone had you lathering his fingers in cum, drawing a thin line of slick substance between them as he pulled out of you.

His arms dipped down to encircle your legs, lifting you to sit on the edge of a crate. Now decently higher above, you glanced down, the arousal between your legs growing with no doubt as you watched him sink to his knees. Tugging your jeans down a little further, he hungrily pried your legs apart before glancing up at you, and plummeting his face between your legs.

A sweet moan fell from your lips as the coarse pad of Ghost’s tongue licked up your folds, stopping to swirl around your bud before moving back down to your hole. Just as you were beginning to enjoy the slow pace, he shoved his tongue inside of your pussy, sliding against areas even his fingers didn’t satisfy. One of the hands holding your legs open began toying with your clit once more, eliciting a string of curses from your mouth as you felt your next orgasm start to build.

Though he’d never admit it, Ghost always thought you had a beautiful voice. The way you accentuated some words and let others fall over like rain water enticed him to no end. And now, hearing the sing sing moans and whimpers spilling from you was undoubtedly catching his attention, causing him to glance up from your pussy.

You, on the other hand, had never been shy about complimenting him. You’d always drone on about how nice his accent sounded, how perfectly cocky he was.. Hell, the list never ends. However, if there was something you made sure he was aware of, it was how gorgeous his eyes were. Piercing oak and softly shaped; always adorned with an intimidating smear of black around them.

And with the way they stared up at you now? Your composure was snapped and broken beyond repair.

Seconds later you felt yourself crying out on your second orgasm, leaning back as Ghost hungrily lapped up whatever dripped out of you. He stood up after a good 20 seconds, the upper hand side of his mask noticeably drenched in your juices. He let out a sigh at this, raising a hand to tug what was left of it off.

It had been a long time since you’d seen Ghost without his mask on, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Dirty blonde locks sat plastered against his forehead, longer than what you remembered. However, the moment was short lived, as his eyes were soon to harden back to the way they had looked when you first encountered.

“What’s your plan after this?”

“To steal any information from here, and get Hassan’s location from the girl.”

“You know she wont talk.” He pressed, leaning closer to your face. “What then?”

Oh.

Your mouth contorted into a sickeningly fake smile as you ran a hand along his face, stopping to caress lightly over his cheek.

“You want me to beg for your help, don’t you?”

He only grew closer at this, warm breaths fanning over your mouth in drawn out waves.

“No, I just want you to make the right decision.”

You scoffed, thumb slowly coming down to run over his lip.

“Aren’t I doing that right now?”

A hum answered your inquiry as he pressed his lips against yours, tongue greedily sliding around the inside to get every taste of you. Muffled moans mingled between the both of you, leading Ghost to press his thighs against your own. One of his hands slipped down to finish unzipping what you hadn’t, the other running along your chest, reaching under your bra to cup and squeeze your breasts one at a time.

You eventually broke apart from his lips because of the ache, glancing down to see him smearing his precum along his dick. Your legs vibrated at each push of his hands against your skin, gently clamping down on your flesh before breaking one hand away to drag his cock against your already weeping pussy.

“Think you can take all of me, sweetheart?”

You nodded feverishly, already growing hot at the pure cockiness present in his tone. What was a small match erupted into a flame as he pushed into you, trailing embers down your walls with each inch he moved. You’d never felt so full in your life, groaning shamelessly as he bottomed out, moving back after a few seconds to adjust you to his length.

“Simon, please.. fuck.” You exhaled roughly, head tilting back to alleviate some of the pressure. “Faster, please.”

A screech caught itself in your throat as he began to thrust inside of you, hands moving up to cage around your back, pulling you flush against his chest. This allowed his cock to burrow even deeper than before, the pleasure rousing incoherent phrases from your lips. Ghost eagerly tilted his head up at this, messily taking your lips in his and greedily swallowing all of the sounds from your throat.

Your hands dug into the sheer fabric of his coat, legs feebly wrapping around his waist in an attempt to stay grounded. You mumbled something along the lines of “.. please.. faster” against his lips, rousing a drawn out groan from his throat at the sound. The slaps of his cock against your pussy grew louder as he increased his speed, filling your ear with a mixture of lewd pants and moans.

“He’ll never fuck you like this, Cobra. Never.”

Ghost choked on the last part of his sentence, letting out an almost animalistic moan at the rate his cock was slamming inside of you. Each thrust grew sloppier, filling him with the carnal need to suck the breath out of your lungs, moving to nip at your neck after you gasped for air. His teeth picked at your skin skillfully, drawing out just enough force to have you sobbing his name, desperately clawing at his back for any leverage.

“My god- Simon!” You cried, raising a hand to grasp his hair. “M’ gonna.. cum.”

“.. shit…”

To be completely truthful, you hadn’t experienced anything like this with Graves in your life. The sweltering blister of heat in your midsection ignited further with every thrust, a release itching to come out as your overstimulated walls clenched around him for the third time. Blistering tears streaked down your cheeks as your orgasm came crashing around Ghost’s cock, drawing a beautiful moan from his lips as he chased his own high.

He abruptly pulled out, mixing streaks of white with the arousal already pooling in between your legs. Panting lightly, Ghost helped you down onto the ground after you zipped your clothes back on, never letting go of your shoulders as you regained composure in your legs.

“You know can’t do this without us.” He spoke, voice just above a whisper. “Come back to base with us, we’ll roll out an operation tomorrow.”

You slowly shook your head at him, hands turning his inside out mask before taking his ungloved hand and placing it inside.

“You know I can’t do that.” You sighed, running a hand along his forearm. “Someone needs to be inside, and I need to make sure Graves gets out safe if you’re really planning on doing what you said.”

“No.” His tone lowered as if you’d flipped a switch in his head, firmly taking hold of your wrists, eyes narrowing dangerously at you. “It’s either us or him. You have to choose.”

It’s either me or him. You have to choose.

You inhaled sharply, digging a device holding your frequency inside out of your vest.

“You know I’d always choose you.”

Your hands clasped around his own as you placed the device in his care.

“Just… try not to kill him. He’s looked out for me more than you know.”

Heaving a small sigh, Ghost pocketed your device before leaning down, lips hovering just inches from yours.

“No promises, Cobra.”

[girlbossblackbeard]

throwing all logical predictions for the finale out the window because this show has consistently chosen to do the most batshit insane things that I could never even dream of in a million years so here are my new theories for things that are gonna happen in episode 8:

-Ed and Stede open up an Inn together in that ramshackle house we saw in the NZ videos

-We won't get a Zheng/Olu/Archie/Jim polycule but we WILL get a Pete/Lucius/Izzy polycule but Izzy is only there to be a bitch and blue ball himself. and also whittle cool things

-Buttons and a massive legion of seagulls descend upon a navy ship and just pick it up and fly away

-Wee John gets hired at Spanish Jackie's to do a drag show every night and a drag brunch on the weekends

-Roach and Fang hookup

-Frenchie meets an honest-to-god mermaid, possibly after falling off the boat and being rescued by them

-Rick coins the term "Getting Rick Roll'd"

-A THIRD BADMINTON BROTHER APPEARS AND IT'S RORY KINNEARN ONCE AGAIN

-Anne Bonny and Mary Read show up on a dope ass ship to help kick the navy's ass and also hookup with Zheng. Calico Jack is also there with a comically dented abdomen from getting cannonballed in s1 ep8 but he makes plenty of jokes about being an inny now

-Doug, Mary, and the kids stay at Ed and Stede's Inn so Ed and Mary can bond over Stede's quirks and Stede can bisexualize Mary's boyfriend again. Also Alma just has a lot of knives

[linkedspirit-fanartfunart]

[Image Description: A colored line-up of various Legend of Zelda characters for the Linked Spirit AU. The characters read left-to-right: "Marin, she/her, pre-Hyule Warriors" is a young redhead girl with a purple cloak and maroon and white dress. She has her hands politely held in front of her. "Groose, he/him, Skyward Sword" is a redheaded man with his hands on his hips, wearing a blue tunic and a green caplet. "Greg Moblin, he/him, LoZ 1" is a large gold bulldog like moblin holding a flower in his hands. He wears a red shirt and pants, with a green poncho. "Purah, she/her, Breath of the Wild" a young teenager wearing a black poofy skirt and a tan shirt and coat with red accents. She has a red streak in her white hair, posing with her hand next to her face. "Tulin, he/him, Breath of the Wild" is a pullet age white Rito with one arm as a wing and the other arm ends with a Wind Waker style hand and wing 'sleeve' "Aror, he/him, Twilight Princess, Crossbow Training" is a child Twili oc with red hair and wears a green over the shoulder wrap over a white tunic. "Midna, she/her, Twilight Princess" is a older Twili, with long fluffy ears wearing a black and teal collared cape, She wears a dark purple skirt with a grey fur trim and a wolf head belt clip on the side of her hip. "Medli, she/her, Wind Waker" is a teenaged white Rito, her red hair in a ponytail. She holds a hand to her chest. "Aryll, she/her, Wind Waker" is a young teen with her hand raised excitedly. She wears a purple skirt with a skull pattern, and a blue shirt with flower patterns. She has the Wind Waker's starter sail wrapped around her waist. "Ol' Niko, he/him, Wind Waker, Spirit Tracks" is an elderly man, smiling with his hands on his cane. He wears a red and white stripped shirt with a blue vest. "Gulley, he/him, A Link Between Worlds" is a blond child wearing Link's Cap and a matching green vest over his yellow tunic. He has his hands on his hips. "Ravio, he/him, A Link to the Past, A Link Between Worlds" is a teenager with dark hair that fades into light blue. He waves, winking, wearing a floor length purple robe and dark purple blue. "Grandpa Smith, he/him, Minish Cap, Four Swords Adventures" is a greying beared man, drying his hands on a cloth. He wears a long leather apron over his green tunic, and wears a green bandana. "Skull Kid, he/him, Ocarina of Time, Majora's Mask" is a Skull Kid wearing a orange hat and tunic, with green shorts, collar, and gloves. He has a v like mark on his forehead. He holds up a horned skull mask in front of him. "Lady Alma, she/her, Wand of Gamelon" is a young woman with short red hair and a tiara. She raises a hand to her chin dantily, wearing a teal shirt and darker teal skirt. End ID]

A few "NPCs"

I can't say ALL of them will make an appearance in the comic, actually, but these are NPCs that are important to the Links, in one way or another, while also having a few significant design differences from canon (thus why no Linebeck or spryte lol.)

[deancaspinefest]

Significant severe

Author: Tossukka | Artist: girlinthemirrorbluenight

Posting on Monday March 25

A TV meteorologist Castiel Novak believes storm chasers who livestream their adventures online must only be looking for adrenaline rushes from dangerous situations. When an attractive storm chaser Dean Winchester and Castiel meet at their shared alma mater’s alumni event, they end up arguing over the issue. To show Castiel the realities of his work, Dean invites Castiel to join him on a chase for a few weeks. Castiel is intrigued, and unexpectedly, his employer agrees to let him count it as field work. After their disastrous first meeting, Castiel expects to share a civil but distant working relationship with Dean. And yet, in the volatile atmosphere of the tornado season, both the storms and Castiel’s attraction to Dean grow more intense day by day.

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

“Now, now, storm chasers are an important part of the weather industry. You know that as well as I do, Castiel,” a man said speaking in a British accent. “Personally I just don’t think the people who voluntarily drive themselves in the middle of what is often hell on Earth can be in their right minds. They end up blocking the roads and making an already dangerous situation even more so,” the one who had been called Castiel said. Dean frowned. “But they do good too. Collect data, confirm warnings, save lives.” “I’m only saying I believe they must have some self-destructive tendencies, that is all.” Dean couldn’t listen more without interrupting. “Excuse me?” he said and pushed his way to the two men. “Sorry for pushing my nose where it doesn’t belong, but I couldn’t help overhearing the discussion.” The dark-haired man’s bright blue eyes widened a little as he saw Dean. There was a hint of recognition in them, and Dean suspected the man already knew who he was. “Heh, my name is Dean Winchester. Well, I work as a storm chaser among other things. Your discussion sounded interesting,” Dean introduced himself. “Oh-ho! There we go, Cassie. You can talk to a professional about your suspicions,” the British guy said. “Call me Balthazar, Dean. Nice to meet you.” Even in the middle of his annoyance, Dean couldn’t help noticing Castiel was just his type. Except that he was clearly an asshole. Well no, that also had been very much Dean’s type over the years. Shit. “So Cas, you think I like risking my life for cheap thrills then?” Dean asked, not bothering to beat around the bush. Castiel frowned. “Don’t you?” “Oh dude, it’s so much more than that. I can admit there’s an element of thrill being so close to the greatest forces of nature, but just so you know, storm chasers take a lot of cautionary measures to keep themselves safe during chasing,” Dean said. “It’s not just aimlessly driving around like maniacs and blocking roads from other citizens. There’s a lot of science connected to it, and a bit of experience needed to keep yourself and others out of trouble.” “I don’t doubt that, Dean,” Castiel said. “I’m sure you are very good at what you do. But you are putting yourself needlessly in danger.” “I’m not,” Dean said. “Listen, have you ever been storm chasing?” “No.” “Okay then,” Dean said. “How about this? Do you want to join me for the peak of the Southern Plains tornado season? Let’s say May? Two weeks, full month, whatever works for you. Get a taste of the cheap thrills.” “I…” Cas hesitated. “I don’t think I can take that much time off work.” “I’ll give you some time to consider,” Dean said and pulled out his business card. Charlie had designed them, and they had a little drawn picture of his beloved Impala driving towards a looming comic book version of a tornado next to his name. “Call me if you want to try it.”

(continue reading on Ao3 on Monday March 25)

[iravaid]

sry if this is random but will u tell us what english au is? i remember seeing it passing re: codposting and im so curious

Hi i'm so happy you asked

English AU came about when me and @farramint started bonding over how much we hated the comics and talked about how things might look if Roba was more competent.

English AU sprouts from the concept of what would happen if Simon let the brainwashing 'work' and started complying with Roba, to an extent, as his personal attack dog. Both as a way to get the torture to stop (so he would be healthy enough in the future to escape on his own, when the opportunity arose), and to stall Roba getting bored with Simon and killing him (as, in this AU, Roba had Sparks killed, leading Simon to realise his time is limited here, and dependent on that sadist's interest in him).

It's also a fun, morbid enough exploration on how low Simon will be forced to stoop while 'working' for Roba (murder, torture and such, yknow how it is), as well as the harassment, humiliation, and torture (of all kinds) he'd have to tolerate within the Zaragoza cartel. Things like forcefully being tattooed, mocked for the sexual assault and torture he'd been subjected to, and being referred to by 'English' as opposed to his actual name. I can see Roba subtly holding Simon's family hostage (to where they don't know they're in danger), and making sure Simon knows that any step too far out of line will lead to their harm. Gripped by the idea that the first time Simon hears his brother's, or mother's, voice in months is a conversation secretly recorded between one of them, and someone Roba had planted in Manchester in order to keep tabs on them.

It also lead to the idea of Roba, in all his arrogance, seeing a weakness in Las Almas following the upheaval within the cartel causing El Sin Nombre to rise to prominence. And this spurs him to try and expand operations. One thing leads to another, and Valeria convinces 'English' to help her against Roba, in exchange for his own freedom. Roba eventually dies, Valeria and Simon are violent girlbosses in arms, and Simon is coping sooo well after the torture nexus that he's just going to brutally hunt down the remaining Zaragoza cartel lieutenants while in this tenuous alliance with El Sin Nombre, who is also unsure how much to trust this man, as well as unsure if she wants to even let him go - Simon is very good at what he does, and in all honesty he knows too much about her identity. Also extremely to draw parallels between Valeria and Rudy, but if people want to read about that lmk because that's a separate post entirely.

And it makes sense for the 141 to eventually appear, maybe somewhat faithful to the plot of MW2, with the missiles and such <3. Except now there's some ulterior motives from Price, who might be aware of the MIA SAS serviceman who got tangled up in rumours of corruption and cartels. Leading to him trying to find Simon Riley and bring him back home with this sense of duty/honour to uphold, in the wake of higher-ups failing this man.

Simon then going from one master (Roba) to another (Valeria) to another (Price) is very fun to consider, as well. Valeria giving Simon more independence than Roba ever did, with shreds of respect to stop him from rankling under her thumb as badly (but still keeping Control, at the end of the day). Price is very much a man who knows how to utilise the men under him as Weapons, and while he respects his subordinates as people (versus Roba seeing Simon as a convenient attack dog he used to make kneel naked, arms behind his back, in a wire kennel for hours on end), Price ultimately values them by their individual abilities to keep the 'bad guys' afraid of their own shadows, and to 'save' the world.

This au has everything. Alejandro-Valeria bitter divorce, competent Roba horrors, Graves is there for some reason (he explodes in the tank again), Simon slaughter hashtag girl momen with a cunty silk buttonup a (with the buzzcut no less)(and houndcoding)(and corruption. but how much is merely just building off his sas conditioning), Price's vague sense of corruption but 'for the greater good', Soap and Gaz's horror at Simon's situation in a 'this very easily could've been us' way, and Gaz gets thrown out of another helicopter.

augh this became long, i hope it makes sense. The idea is ultimately that simon gets to go home, too, and tries to readjust to a 'normal' life, reuniting with Tommy and Sharon and Beth and Joseph. But I can see Price convincing him to return to the service (he knows a lifer when he sees one, and why waste a good soldier), potentially as a private contractor with the 141.

[elffees]

Frontiers of Pandora made me realize how much I hate Jake S*lly

So I watched a No-Commentary lets play of Avatar: Frontiers of Pandora and have a lot of thoughts.

Disclaimer #1: I am a WOC, but I am not indigenous. I absolutely encourage indigenous peoples to add onto this post and share their thoughts.

Disclaimer #2: There is going to be an abundance of Jake S*lly hate in this post. I just ask that if you are a fan of Jake, and still choose to read my post, that you do so in good faith and out of genuine curiosity. Please don't read my post with the sole intent to shoot it down.

Overarching Problems with the Avatar Franchise

Okay so, time to actually get into the post.

To start off, the entire Avatar franchise has problems. Regardless if it's the video games, comics, movies, or what have you. Ableist tropes, racist tropes, misogynistic tropes, my god there are a bunch. These problems with the franchise have been talked about for literal decades now though, so I'll link a few of their pieces here.

Native Media Theory's critique video

"Avatar: The Way of Water" and the Question of Indigenous Representation

Native News Online's article about JaCam's horribly ignorant comment and ATWOW

Avatar: The Way of Water or How NOT to Make Indigenous Futurism Movies

Old, New, Borrowed and Blue: Compulsory Able-bodiedness and Whiteness in Avatar

Avatar's Approach to Ableism Misses the Mark

There are hundreds of other sources from all areas of the internet. It would be impossible for me to list them all. Fortunately, they're very easy to find if you want to know more.

What I want to talk about is the game Frontiers of Pandora that just released in December 2023, and how it changed my perspective on the movies, at least the first movie since I have yet to watch the second.

Frontiers of Pandora

(I will try my best to be as spoiler-free as possible, but there will be segments where I'll dive into them. I will put a warning ahead of time.)

Just so we're all on the same page, I'll briefly summarize FOP's premise.

Spoiler-Free Summary

As an infant, the playable character, an unnamed Na'vi, was taken by a project group of the RDA known as "TAP", The Ambassador Program. You are not alone, a significant number of Na'vi children, all from the newly introduced Sarentu Clan, were taken as well. It's made clear in the opening that TAP's initial goal was to raise Na'vi children and teach them human culture to "bridge the gap" between their two peoples. And then once ready, they would be sent back out into Pandora to serve as "ambassadors" for Na'vi-Human relations. You were to be mainly taught by Alma Cortez, TAP's Co-founder and a skilled xenobiologist, who notably spends more time in her Avatar body than in her original one.

As time passed and relations between the Na'vi and the RDA became more hostile, the taken Sarentu children were taught to use human weapons. Heavily implied to be trained to fight against other Na'vi to defend RDA resources, instead of the original intention to serve as "peaceful ambassadors".

The player's journey starts when the character is a teenager, around 16 to 18 years old. The final battle in the first movie causes a massive uproar to all RDA facilities, including TAP's. The administrator and founder, John Mercer, ordered the entire program and building to be abandoned. Part of that abandonment is ordering the execution of the playable character and all of the other Sarentu children.

Your character, and some of the others, are saved by Alma, who killed the soldiers that were assigned to kill you. Then, seemingly acting on impulse with no solid plans for your survival, put you and the others into a cryo-induced coma. With the plan that you would all be woken up when it was safe.

There is a misunderstanding and long story short, the Sarentu children do not get woken up until 16 years later. Your revival is when the game is officially put into the player's hands.

Just from the premise, it's clear the plot is based off the real life horror of Native American Boarding Schools. (I'm really curious how Indigenous viewers feel about this portrayal. I've tried to look up perspectives, but have had difficulty finding any. Probably because the game is so new.)

The Sarentu were taken as children, physically and psychologically abused whenever they interacted with Na'vi culture in any way, were told daily that the program was "for their own good", and were generally viewed as "property" owned by TAP and John Mercer.

We learn later in the game that in the early days of the program, the children suffered conditions so grotesque that the oldest of them admit to repressing the full events of what happened to stay sane. What we were already told about their upbringing is repulsive to hear, so to find out that there was more that was so traumatic and horrible, the characters can't even bring themselves to remember it let alone talk about it...

Basically, your character's backstory is fucked up. Very much so.

After experiencing all that, once your character wakes up from cryo sleep and rushes to the outdoors for the first time in approximately 32+ years, you get to the heart of the story.

Frontiers of Pandora is about the playable character reclaiming and rediscovering a culture that's been stripped from them. The character has the help of a predominantly human resistance group (known creatively as "The Resistance"), but the majority of the game is the character meeting and getting to know various Na'vi clans. From the Aranahe in Kinglor Forest, to the Zeswa in the Upper Plains, to the Kame'tire in the Clouded Forest.

And throughout the world, there are remnants of your character's lost people. There are Sarentu artifacts scattered all over the map where the character can regain lost knowledge from their Clan's way of life.

Fortunately, there are still Na'vi from the other three clans that have personally met the Sarentu before you. And they are EXTREMELY eager to tell you of their experiences with your people and how they used to interact with each other. There's even a character who is heavily implied to have known the playable character's mother, a fact we only learn after he playfully requests we gather ingredients and make a unique dish, not knowing until after we've tried it, that we were just taught how to make a meal our mother used to. A quest you don't expect to evoke tears until you're already crying.

You have the ability to use human weapons and wear human clothing if you wish, but that is optional. You can, and many players have, opt for a "full Na'vi playthrough" where you only use Na'vi weapons and dress in Na'vi attire (You can even dress in Sarentu-specific attire for full immersion!) There are no choices, so you can't choose to not interact with the Resistance, but you can spend as little time as possible with other humans, only needing to return for quick updates before going back out into Pandora with other Na'vi.

I say all this to say, the game is heavily about the Na'vi and reclaiming one's culture after it's been attempted to be destroyed. Watching this journey play out made me realize the potential Avatar has, and helped me better understand my biggest gripe with the movies. It's Jake Sully.

The Whitest Savior to Ever Whitely Save

After finishing the FOP playthrough, I decided to rewatch the first movie to see if I'd feel differently about it. And boy did I!

I could talk all day about how the tiniest similarities got to me. I laughed watching the ferocious pack of viperwolves, after seeing players frantically try to outrun them in Kinglor Forest. The harrowing climb up the ikran rookery, and thinking about the Sarentu's own sinking self esteem as they struggle to prove themselves to their eventual bonded. Even the floating mountains as the characters in the movie weave through them and Trudy uses them for cover, connecting it to all the times I've seen FOP players and ikrans rest on them or gather resources from their peaks.

The comparisons are endless.

But the biggest contrast and glaring stain is Jake's entire character.

Like Jake, the Sarentu (the playable character) has to learn how to maneuver a world they are not used to. Unlike Jake, it's clear the protagonist actually develops an appreciation and love for the world around them.

RELATIONSHIPS TO OTHER NA'VI

Even overlooking the WS trope for a minute (which we will touch on!), it comes across as though Jake only begins to side with the Omatikaya after enjoying the adrenaline rush of their way of life, and falling in love with Neytiri. But we never see Jake actually bonding with any other Na'vi besides her in the first movie.

He grows into calling them "brother" and "sister", and has a few throwaway lines of knowing of other Na'vi, but we don't actually see him develop any positive relationships with anyone other than Neytiri (who is very much given the Love Interest Angle where majority of her scenes are about Jake or have Jake in them. Even during her father's death scene, Jake made an appearance!!! Go away for a millisecond I am begging!) Even his supposed arc with Tsu'tey is rushed as all hell, and only happens because Jake ~miraculously~ becomes Toruk Makto. A feat that makes the Omatikaya gain respect for him en masse, despite them just calling for his death after learning he played a major role in the destruction of their Hometree.

In comparison, the Sarentu not only gets to know the culture, customs, and day-to-day lives of the Na'vi they meet, they also get to befriend them.

Now since I've watched a let's play, I haven't seen all that the game offers. But I have seen a lot of side activities in the Kinglor Forest.

Your character bonds with the other Sarentu children and with members of other massacred clans. They also create relationships with members of large clans: from as monumental of events as helping expose a corrupt olo'eyktan and bringing a shamed tsahik back to power, to as intimate as attending as funeral / "letting go" ceremony for a deceased ikran, to as simple as helping restore a weaver's low self esteem. Your character not only helps stop the RDA, but they also truly develop connections with other Na'vi. More than one!

Obviously, there can't be a full exploration of Jake simply making friends in a film because there just isn't enough time. But we could've seen him bonding with at least a few other Na'vi besides his love interest. For the franchise and sequel to be so Na'vi-focused, it wouldn't have hurt the first movie to detract some screentime from RDA characters, and give it to more Na'vi who we could've continued on with.

RELATIONSHIP TO THE WORLD AND TO EYWA

Another gripe I have with Jake's character is that he seems to hardly appreciate Pandora's wildlife or the Na'vi's connection to Eywa.

During Iknimaya, once he creates the bond, he refers to the ikran as "mine", despite the numerous times Neytiri has said no creature on Pandora can "belong" to anyone. It is a mutual bond based on respect, not taming a pet. Despite this lesson, Jake clearly still viewed it as such. We're not even told if the ikran Jake bonded with has a name, not in the film anyway. I had to find out through google that he named it, simply, "Bob".

And in the finale when connecting to Eywa, Jake asks for her help in the final battle. But while doing so, he's still uncertain if she's even "real" or "actually listening". Even now, he continues to doubt Na'vi beliefs (despite it literally being Grace's dying words!!)

In comparison, the Sarentu's journey up the ikran rookery to form a bond... it's emotional to say the least.

There is a desperation in your character's voice. Not of impatience, but of declining self esteem. A worry that you won't be chosen because you will not be deemed worthy. Because you are not Na'vi enough due to your upbringing. As you go up, an Aranahe character that guides you, Eetu, tells you of his experience and how calming it was. And that makes the character more nervous because of how stressful it's been for them so far.

But then you finally get close enough to approach. The ikran finally allows you to, and you meet eyes and...

I do not know how they managed to capture care and affection so perfectly but they did. The journey up the rookery is intense and nerve wracking. But once you get chosen, you the player IMMEDIATELY knows (just like Eetu said) because the ikran looks at you as though she's already prepared to give her life for yours. Many players have expressed that this segment legitimately made them cry because of how palpable the bond is.

And then Eetu says that she has placed full trust in you. And you know he's right because you can feel it. You can see it. But then he says now it's time for you to place full trust in her, and he "helps" you accomplish this by pushing you off the cliff!!!!! And it's scary! And terrifying! And you call out for her to help and you're still falling!! But then she catches you, and the next thing you know you're experiencing probably one of the most heartwarming scenes of the entire game.

The Sarentu is not yelling commands such as "shut up and fly straight". It is truly a psychological bond. You are not an owner and she is not a vehicle. You are not a tamer and she is not a mindless beast. You fly together as one. You are one.

Connecting to Eywa is also an emotional experience. Whenever the Sarentu connects to the Tarsyu (their clan's method), they're able to communicate with their ancestors, specifically the founder of the Sarentu, Entu. Sometimes in depth and sometimes only vaguely. But whenever a connection is made, the Sarentu walks away with something gained.

In comparison, it's debatable if Jake experiences anything at all when he connects to the Omatikaya's Tree of Souls. I suppose this can be left up to lore though. Maybe he just doesn't feel anything because he doesn't have Na'vi ancestors? Maybe it's because his kuru is artificially made and not naturally born? I don't know! The possibilities of why are endless, and probably answered somewhere in bonus Avatar content.

What my issue is, is that Jake doesn't seem to care whether he has a connection to Eywa or not, despite Eywa being a pretty significant part of Na'vi culture overall. If he's able to feel something when connecting to her, he has no reaction. And if he isn't able to feel anything, he still has no reaction over missing out on something significant to their way of life.

When the Sarentu children connect to Eywa for the VERY first time in 32 years, there is an air of both anxiety and excitement. One of them even voices that they're worried Eywa and their ancestors won't accept them for not being raised like "true Na'vi" (as you can see, this is a reoccuring theme in the game. Who can be referred to as "true Na'vi"). After the connection is made, there are mixed reactions. But at least there are reactions. Jake has none.

(Please note again: I am only referring to the 2009 movie in this post because that was everyone's first intro into Avatar. I am not referring to any comics or books or etc. that may dive deeper into these topics. If they do, great! That doesn't negate how lackluster the movie is. As the original source material, it should be able to stand on its own, and it clearly can't.)

"The Savior The Na'vi Needed" I Guess

I've already linked articles above about how inappropriate it is that a white actor + character "is the only one" that can help these "poor, defenseless, and naive" Indigenous / coded characters of color "defeat" colonization. Many many many people have have touched on this problematic storyline. It's very disturbing.

So speaking not from a Doylist perspective, but from a Watsonian one, Human Marine Jake is still an immensely odd choice to be Eywa's + the Omatikaya's Chosen One.

It's implied Eywa "chose" Jake because he'd be able to save Pandora. But the Omatikaya were literally going to DIE had Eywa not called on all of the animals to come to their aid. They would've lost following Jake.

The only thing he managed to do that was unique was unite the clans. Which he only accomplishes due to the lazy writing of becoming Toruk Makto. The implication that no Na'vi in generations EVER considered just jumping on Toruk's back. Or if there were other Na'vi that tried it, that none of them ever succeeded, but Jake, who is still new to the world and animals of Pandora, would know how to expertly bond with a creature as ferocious as that, better than every other Na'vi since Neytiri's grandfather.

Not to mention the absolute amnesia everyone gets once he does. His former betrayal is completely forgotten about, never to be mentioned again.

Neytiri no longer cares that Jake massively lied and used her, because he's Toruk Makto.

Tsu'tey no longer cares that Jake knowingly mated with his betrothed and spied on their people's way of life, because Jake's Toruk Makto.

None of the other Omatikaya (who are terrifyingly written without any individuality whatsoever) care their Hometree was just destroyed and their Olo'eyktan killed due to Jake's betrayal, because he's Toruk Makto.

It all just gets washed down the drain, like the sheer chaos Jake's actions caused no longer matter. Because he's Toruk Makto, the Chosen One. No further action required. No heartfelt apologies, no intimate discussions, no anything.

Jake jumps on Toruk, and that's that.

So not only were they actively losing following behind Jake's leadership, but he was only able to rally the clans due to shoddy writing choices. So WHY did Eywa choose this specific man, who was just actively working against her, to be the one the Na'vi are supposed to follow??

On top of all that, the implication of the Omatikaya needing Jake to survive is... dubious to say the least. It is not only literally racist, but also incredibly infantilizing to the Na'vi. The implication that they couldn't have come up with effective strategies without being ordered around by a person who's initial goal was to help destroy them.

"In siding with the ‘natives’, Jake and Grace play a central role in what can essentially be deemed as a form of anti-colonial resistance. What is crucial in this telling for the fight for Na’vi tribal and ecological survival is the ways in which anti-colonial resistance becomes legitimized through the ‘other’ becoming human." [...] "The Na’vi, like other colonized peoples, are denied of their own agency, and resistance only becomes valid and possible within a colonial paradigm of acceptability. As a result the Na’vi become dependent on Jake, the white, male, human, ethnographic anthropologist as saviour, leading them to a freedom in which he had helped threaten in the first place. [...] The Na’vi come to exist suspended by space, time and tradition and the role of Jake and Grace as anthropologists too occupy a place in colonial history that play into both liberal and much more conservative agendas." (Why Avatar is a Truly Dangerous Film)

Neytiri Should've Been the True Lead

Rewatching the first movie after Frontiers of Pandora, I not only had a much greater appreciation for Pandora, but much more distaste for Jake as the leading character.

While watching, I found myself thinking at SEVERAL points, "This would've been so good if Neytiri had been the focal protagonist." And the longer the film went on, the more the feeling settled in.

As the daughter of the Olo'eyktan and Tsahik, who better to lead her people to victory after her father's death? (You could argue Tsu'tey since he was supposed to be Eytukan's successor anyway. Either are valid options!) Neytiri's great grandfather was the last Toruk Makto, who better to become TM of their generation than one of his direct descendants? Neytiri holds great respect for Eywa and was destined to be the next Tsahik after Mo'at, so why couldn't she be the one who Eywa guides all of Pandoran wildlife to follow behind?

Just why oh why do all of these important roles in the narrative have to belong to Jake?????? Why couldn't they belong to a Na'vi character themselves?

This is not to say Jake should've been completely erased from the story. I do think him having some relevance still would've been fine, especially given he's a disabled man. I just wish his role had been that of an ally, a side character, or at most a deuteragonist second to Neytiri. Because there is weight in gaining insider information from a privileged ally.

I just wish that Jake hadn't been the lead character who's POV we follow. I wish it had been from the perspective of one of the actual Na'vi characters that were being oppressed.

BONUS: FOP Just Solves A Lot of the Issues I Had with Avatar

White / Human Saviour

Explained above.

Random Chosen One

The Sarentu playable character helps out, and is invited to help, not because they were spiritually chosen by "a deity they don't even believe in" unlike Jake. The Sarentu helps simply because they want to. Full stop. They see the injustices the RDA is enacting against Pandora, and simply choose to help put a stop to them. Because it is wrong.

That's it.

It's 1000x more admirable in my opinion. To choose to help rather than being a Chosen One destined to do so.

You can argue that since Jake seems to not even believe in Eywa, that he does help based on choice alone. But like I covered earlier, he only does so after he's deemed the Na'vi (or more specifically Neytiri) worthy of being saved. Not because they have the inherent right to live as they wish. No, he didn't consider them worthy of helping until after he decided they were.

The Conflicting Ethics Behind 'Avatars'

I don't know much about all of the side quests in the game so if there are any other avatars, then I don't know about them. But based on what I've seen of the main storyline, FOP handles the dubious topic of 'avatars' much better than the movie does. Because personally, I've always found the concept disturbing.

"At least in other white savior movies, they don’t sugarcoat the whiteness nor did they reward the whiteness with the ultimate prize." [...] "Apparently as a reward for being such a good white savior (that was originally a double agent for Colonel Scarface to get operational intel on them so the army could blow their magic god tree to Hell), Jake gets permanently transformed into one of the Na’vi via his Avatar." "Just imagine '8 Mile' if Eminem beat Sam Wilson and the rest of the Free World at the Shelter so badly, Future [...] took out his fairy godbrother wand and turned Rabbit into a brother. That’s the kool-aid that James Cameron is essentially selling." (Battle to the Bottom: The Blue-faced White Savior ‘Avatar’ Is Even Worse Than ‘After Earth’)

The concept of 'avatars' (in the way Avatar writes them) has always freaked me the hell out. Especially when Jake begins referring to humans as "the Sky People" as though he wasn't one of them just the day before.

FOP handles this subject much better in my opinion because the character of Alma, who is the Sarentu's former teacher at TAP and who is the current leader of the Western Resistance, has great attachment to her avatar body. To the point where many Resistance members have never seen her in her original body.

Later in the story when things begin looking up for the Na'vi and for the Sarentu children, Alma starts using phrases such as "our resistance" and referring to lost Sarentu artifacts that have been reclaimed as coming "back to us", and other like-minded words. And when she does this, she is IMMEDIATELY called out on it.

Alma is not Sarentu nor is she Na'vi, and although she plants her consciousness into the body of a lookalike, she is still, first and foremost, a human. And no matter how much she may try to forget that, how much she may wish to distance herself from the crimes of her people, the characters do not hold her hand and allow her to do so. The game makes it known that while she is doing the right thing now, she has no right to cram herself into a culture and people by jumping into their skin and playing pretend.

[ SPOILER WARNING ]

And the way this arc is resolved? By Alma losing her avatar form and being forced to confront the truth of who she is, a human that was complicit in the oppression of the Na'vi, most specifically the Sarentu.

The Sarentu do not get on their hands and knees and kiss Alma's feet for the ways she's helped them (now). No, SOME of them let her know they appreciate the good she's done, but that ultimately, there needs to be distance. That they are still their own people and need to rebuild without her interference. This clearly hurts Alma, but like an actually good ally, she respects the boundaries made and eventually backs off. The separation is a peaceful one.

[ SPOILER END ]

Alma does not become their Chosen Hero after she defects from the RDA. She is not given a standing ovation. And she is not even given a "thanks" from all of the Sarentu, some of them proceed to hate her guts. The reactions towards Alma, a former RDA member who defected to aid the Na'vi's survival, are wonderfully and realistically mixed.

Because, like the character So'lek says at the beginning of the game, the Na'vi are not a monolith. They are not all the same, nor will they all have the same views.

Various Na'vi characters in FOP have diverging opinions on the Human Resistance group. Some support them, some don't want to come within 10 feet of them. And both POVs are framed as valid by the narrative.

On the other hand in the 2009 movie, any Na'vi character that didn't immediately grow into liking Jake was ultimately punished by the writing.

Neytiri disliked Jake in the beginning of the movie, but as soon as Mo'at names her his teacher, a switch flips and all animosity is gone. She is still tough on him, that's just who she is, but it's clear any true ire is immediately washed away once she is given the role of 'teacher'. In comparison, Tsu'tey spends half the film irritated and distrustful of Jake. (And rightly so given that Jake is literally an RDA plant!!)

Like I've already said, Tsu'tey undergoes a blink-and-you'll-miss-it "arc" where once Jake becomes Toruk Makto, all negativity anyone held vanishes. Except Tsu'tey's timing is clearly too late, because the writing punishes his earlier animosity by killing him off in the final battle.

The same can be said for Eytukan, who was the one to suggest tying the avatars up after Jake reveals his initial goal. Eytukan's animosity is also punished with death, with him dying during the destruction of Hometree.

(It can also be said that these characters died both to punish them for their inability to "appreciate" Jake at a quicker pace, and to simply get them out of the way so Jake could become Olo'eyktan of the Omatikaya. Because how else could the White Human Savior become the leader of the people, if the leaders that were already there didn't "get out of the way" to make room?)

Conclusion

If you couldn't tell, I wasn't Avatar (2009)'s biggest fan my first time watching. For numerous reasons.

It wasn't until watching a playthrough of Frontiers of Pandora, that I realized a lot of my ire was towards Jake specifically (although there are many problems with the franchise as a whole), and if the story had just not been told from Jake's POV, and had been told from the POV of one of the Na'vi fighting for their home (Neytiri would be my first choice, Tsu'tey second), then I think I would've at least been able to enjoy it. It's hard for me to even watch Avatar (2009) because of how rampant the issues are in that movie. Or I suppose because of how central Jake is.

I wrote all this just to air out my thoughts. But if you're similar to me and felt like Avatar (2009) was "off", then I do suggest you take a look at Frontiers of Pandora and still see if you feel the same.

All this isn't to say FOP is the perfect game, mind you. It absolutely has flaws, ones that others have touched on and that I've noticed myself. But even with it's flaws, I'd take it's misgivings over Avatar (2009)'s atrocious ones any day.

[frogletscribe]

I finished the main story of A:FoP last night and I have more thoughts but don't want to spoil anything for anyone who is not there yet so im putting them under the cut again lol. Also a lot of this gets into like general Avatar lore things and not always specifically A:FoP. I just have a lot of thoughts and not a lot of people to talk to about it lmao.

Warning: this is very long, i am apologizing now if you choose to read the whole thing.

Spoilers for Avatar: Frontiers of Pandora under the cut

TEYLAN oh my god my boy. He scared me so bad when he showed up again but I'm so glad he had a hand in stopping Mercer. It felt like such a moment of growth for him finaly setting himself free of his abuser. Poor guy feels so guilty about everything that happened, and I'm very nervous about whenever Nor comes back in future DLC stuff because he still doesn't know that Teylan 'betrayed' them. Especially after everything with Alma.

Speaking of Alma, I have somewhat mixed feelings about her story? Obviously the Sarentu have every right to be pissed at her, I am pissed at her, she used them (and honestly is still using them) to ease her own guilt. What bothers me is the "You will never be one of us" rhetoric? Mostly because it makes me think of Jake and the Sully kids (Lo'ak and Kiri specifically) who all are/look more like Avatars rather than Na'vi. It makes me wonder how the Sarentu would react to them? The situations are very different, Jake gave up almost everything that made him human to live as a Na'vi where Alma has stayed human, albeit unhealthily attached to her Avatar form. Jake worked to earn his place with the Na'vi where Alma is trying to take it from this group of children she has been lying to from the very start.

But more than that, her still talking as if she was a part of their family at the end made me so mad. I don't think Nor had a good reaction to her by any means, stabbing her was definitely not good, and it leaves all of the other humans scared of him but like,,, i'm on his side tbh. His anger is justified, he's just not coping with it in healthy ways. Like at least the Sarentu did shut her down, Alma is not a part of their family by the end, but giving her the grace they did at the end i think was more than she deserved. Idk, I am glad that they are able to be the bigger persons (pun not intended lol) and move forward, I'm just not a fan of forgiving a person who was partially responsible for the murder of your entire family?

Back to Nor. He is such an interesting character to have next to Ri'nela and So'lek. His anger is palpable and it has nowhere to go. He refuses to connect to Eywa again because he feels he has been poisoned by TAP and humans as a whole and it colors everything he does. He copes with his pain by ignoring it until it becomes too much and he snaps.

And then there is Ri'nela, who is also clearly hurt by everything that comes to light about the Sarentu and TAP, but she is so much more reserved about it. She has a really lovely audio log about how she feels the need to set her own emotions aside so she can take care of others and their emotions. You can really tell how much pressure she puts on herself to be that emotional stability for others. Still she works through it and at the very least tries to talk with the Protag about it in a much more healthy way than Nor does.

Compare that to So'lek, who is similarly reserved in is emotions to Ri'nela, but less to protect others and more to protect himself. Hopefully we will get a little more insight into his character with the comics coming out, but So'lek is i think very similar to Nor in a lot of ways. His clan was wiped out in the Great War, and he was the only survivor to not assimilate into another clan, and we can assume, i think, that those other survivors were most likely children and other non-warriors, either too old or unable to fight for whatever reason. He is entirely alone by choice, and he is angry, but he keeps it together.

So'lek sees the bigger picture, he knows that the resistance is the one other group that's actually fighting back (Besides Jake and the Omatikaya), even if its entirely a group of humans, who we can assume he is not terribly fond of in general. He makes a point of saying the RDA is what needs to be removed from Pandora, not humans. He knows how to separate his allies instead of generalizing 'all humans bad', something Nor is implied to struggle with at least a little. That is especially clear when So'lek calls Nor out after he stabs Alma. But that still doesn't negate how angry So'lek is and is capable of being. He says it after HQ is attacked, he is trying not to follow Nor and his rage. He knows that if he has that conversation with Nor, it will be very easy for him to let his rage consume him as well.

Given that Nor is pretty much gone from the game after he stabs Alma, I'm hoping that in the upcoming DLC we get to find him? Maybe he is being an angry loner out on the woods or if he has found other missing TAP students? There are 4 mentioned in game, either by name (Ri'nela asks where two of them, Telisi and Yefti, are at the very start of the game, and 2 more are mentioned in TAP School Records, Okni and Yuayt) Of course they could all have died while the main four were in cryosleep, 15 years have passed and if they werent with that group when Alma saved them, theres no telling what exactly has happened to them. I just think it could be cool for them to pop up and join back up with the Sarentu.

On, like, an entirely different note, the joy it gives me that there are multiple nonbinary characters! Ahh!!! I think right now the only ones are Tsu'kiri from the Aranahe and Okul from the Kame'tire, at least that I have found, but the way that they are handled, I really really love. They are both just people! Existing in the world! As a nonbinary person myself i also really appreciate the game using they/them for the protagonist and letting you flavor your character however you want so that you aren't locked into male/female like so many games tend to do.

Getting into less A:FoP specific and more general lore territory: Something else I found really interesting while digging around on the wiki is that Mokasa is not the Olo'eyktan? He is listed as Anufi's chief advisor, which made him a sort of stand in Olo'eyktan while she was exiling herself, but he isn't actually the Olo'eyktan the way Ka'nat and Nesim are for their respective clans. Even on the wiki, the Olo'eyktan for the Kame'tire is labeled as Unknown. At most we get Okul being named ? Tsakarem? Thats at least what I took from it. But it makes me curious about the other clans and their leadership (also just very curious about them in general lol). There are 16 clans that we know of (that are all still canon) but we really have only really in depth explored 6 of them in the whole series so far. (Just counting the movies and A:FoP right now because I do not have access to the comics or I think the like one? other games that is still canon) Idk im interested in more Olo'eyktan/Tsahik dynamics beyond just mated pairs like we have seen. Like the Zeswa sisters is really cool to me, or father/daughter dynamic with Ka'nat and Etuwa. Obviously, Jake, and later Tarsem, are not mated to Mo'at but there was the intention of Neytiri eventually taking over as Tsahik before the Sully's left, which would have continued the married couple leaders dynamic that we have been seeing.

We also know that Olo'eyktan don't always have to be men (See Nesim for the Zeswa and Ikneyi from the Tayrangi clan that we see in the first film), so then are there examples of male Tsahik somewhere? Okul being presumably named Tsakarem as a nonbinary/gender non-conforming character would imply that on some level, but im curious if we will ever see examples of it.

And finally, somebody has got to let me smooch the characters in this game PLEASE.

If you actually read all that kudos to you and thank you for indulging my screaming.

[unworthingtons]

S.W.O.R.D (2009)

This aged....poorly.

[wlw-webcomic-bracket]

WEBCOMIC DIRECTORY

Half the reason I created this tournament is so I could find new webcomics to read, and I know a bunch of you are following it for the same reason.

So: Here is a directory of every webcomic that was submitted!

Please note that this list is Very Long, so (1) I have not read most of these webcomics and can't vouch for their content, and (2) I have not tested any of these links, but I can fix any errors if you point them out.

Comics are listed in alphabetical order, with the featured couple(s) or poly ship(s) in parentheses. Broken into two parts because Tumblr only allows 100 links per post and there are 140 comics.

180° Angel (Sam and Lilith)

2 Slices (Ruka and Rio)

A Week in Warrigilla (Hazel and Willie)

A&H Club (Adrian and Hildegard)

Alice and the Nightmare (Edith and Quinn)

Alien Heart (Ivy and Rosa)

Always Human (Sunati and Austen)

Balderdash (Georgie and Afia)

Band vs Band (Honey Hart and Turpentine)

Blindsprings (Ember and Irelia)

Boyfriends (Jock, Prep, Nerd, and Goth)

Bugtopia (Arachne and Scarlet)

Burn Away (Abella and Edie)

Charity Case (Sylvia and Jerry)

Circuits and Veins (Ai and Aki)

Console Her (Claudia and Ava)

Cucumber Quest (Almond and Peridot; Piano and Ametrine)

Cursed Princess Club (Nell and Jolie)

Dame Daffodil (Charo and Alesea)

Daughter of the Lilies (Lyra and Margot)

Dead Winter (Lizzie and Alice)

Dicebox (Griffin and Molly)

Dirt Creek Runs Red with Blood (Ines and Sarepia)

Dom&Mor (Dominique and Morgan)

Dresden Codak (Kimiko and Elith)

Drop-Out (Lola and Sugar)

Dumbing of Age (Becky and Dina; Jennifer/Billie and Ruth)

El Goonish Shive (Ellen and Nanase; Catalina and Rhoda; Diane and Lucy)

Eldritch Darling (Ina and CJ)

Encore! (Quinn and Hana)

Ennui Go (Izzy, Darcy, and Tanya)

Errant (Sarin and Jules)

Facing the Sun (Aarya and Liza)

Finding Wonderland (Alex and Lucky)

Flowers For the Arsonist (Lucia and Paige)

Four Leaf (Carla and Lina)

Gals (Croix, Sam, Lux, and Charlotte)

Ghoul Crush (Sison and Laguna)

Girly (Otra and Winter)

Glitterlaced (Goldie and Luck)

Go Get a Roomie (Roomie and Lillian)

Guide to the Land of Monsters (Arnatuk and Tove)

Gunnerkrigg Court (Kat and Paz; Zimmy and Gamma)

Hard Lacquer (Claire and Robin; Claire and Petra)

Heartstopper (Darcy and Tara)

Heir's Game (Sevilia and Ilianna)

Her Tale of Shim Chong (Shim Chong and Madam Jang)

High Class Homos (Sapphia and Odette; Sapphia and Marla)

Homestuck (Rose and Kanaya; Calliope and Roxy; Vriska and Meenah; Vriska and Terezi)

How to Be a Werewolf (Marin and Marisa)

I Love Amy (Amy and Bibi)

I Want to Be a Cute Anime Girl (Cheryl and Delilah)

I'm the Villainess but the Heroine's Trying to Capture Me (Nelly and Nancy)

In My Heart (Wantanabe Yuki and Sasaki Mari)

Isadora (Isaline and Theodora)

It's Okay to Like Girls (Sophie and Olivia)

Kidd Commander (Phineas and Agatha)

Kill Six Billion Demons (Allison and Ciocie Cioelle)

Kiss It Goodbye (Aruka and Yukimi)

Lady of the Shard (Radiant Goddess and Acolyte; Radiant Goddess and Old God)

Lesbiampires (Daphne and Veronika)

Lore Olympus (Athena and Hestia)

Mage & Demon Queen (Malori and Velverosa)

Matchmaker (Kimmy and Marlowe)

Missing Monday (Foyle and Monday)

Monsters and Girls (Lili and Sera)

Motherlover (Imogen and Alex)

Moving In (Jackie and Riley)

Muted (Camille, Nyra, and Dendro)

My Dragon Girlfriend (Dani and Christie; Callie and Olive)

My Sweet Archenemy (Mad Spade and Miss Sunshine)

My Wish Is to Fall In Love Until You Die (Shiina and Mimi; Seiran and Ari)

Namesake (Selva and Alice)

Nano List (Chacha and Zavi)

Never Satisfied (Neith and Isra)

Nevermore (Lenore and Annabel Lee)

Night Owls and Summer Skies (Emma and Vivian)

Not So Shoujo Love Story (Rei and Hanna)

Octopus Pie (Jane and Marigold)

Offbeat (Beau and Julie)

On a Sunbeam (Mia and Grace; Alma and Char)

On Borrowed Time (Rune and Dielle)

Osora (Celia and Catalina)

Remaining links in part two!

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

Dear Sleepy, could you please upload a Timeline for your GhostxJade Comics.

Because I really like them but can't find the first ones.

Hello!

There's actually not that many of Ghost x Jade comics because of my lazy and slow bum, but here are the master list for you and others who wants to read Ghost x Jade stories!

(will constantly be updated with time)

💀🌱Ghost x Jade Masterlist 💀🌱

📝 = Written 🖼️ = Illustration 📔 = Comic

🕰️ REBOOT!MW

🌹💀 COLD HEART🌹💀

Prologue - Hard Time 🖼️📝

Take Care of Yourself 🖼️📝

****

Arts and Fics

🎨 Jade's concept art and equipment 🎨

Wildflower (Valentine's Day 2023 fic) 📝🖼️

More of You (there's only one bed oop) Part 1 Part 2📝🖼️

Jade meets Ghost's family 📝

What if Ghost saw Jade injured? 📝

Reboot!Jade Profile 🖼️

Team Las Almas 🖼️

When Ghost Crumbles, She Finally Saw Simon 🖼️

Ghost Brushes Jade's Hair 🖼️

When Did Ghost Learn How To Braid? 🖼️

--------------------------------------------------------------------

🕰️ OG!MW - Timeline Based (✧ω✧)

Ghost and Jade's First Impression on Each Other 🖼️📝

Jade Forcefully Opens Ghost's Mask! (Just my rambling but this is the first ever post of Jade) 🖼️📝

A Night To Kill 🖼️📝

Meteor Showers Part I 📔

Meteor Showers Part II 📔

Ghost Takes Care of Jade During Her Period 🖼️📝

ALMOST First Kiss?? 🖼️

We Survived The Whole-Ass War Together and Now Let's Have Our First Date For Real 🖼️

🌌 Ghost x Jade AU or Other Works (ง ื▿ ื)ว

Know my OTP in 5 Minutes meme 🖼️

Ghost Braids Jade's Hair 🖼️

BBQ Sauce on Me Tits... 🖼️

Ghost Spilled his Tea 🖼️

Wrong Room Jade... 🖼️

What if Ghost Survives? Sketch 🖼️

Veteran!Ghost x Vet!Jade ft. Riley the Doggo 🖼️📝

Vigilante!Ghost x Police!Jade 🖼️📝

Azrael!Ghost ft. Jade

Take Care of Yourself Out There, Alright? 🖼️

Painting Ghost and Jade's Face Claim! 🖼️

Help Ghost with His Eyeliner Plz 📔

🎁 Works by Others As Gifts ❤️ (love you guys! (≧◡≦) ♡)

@shadeops21 's "A Vet, A Vet, and a Dog" based on my Vet AU. 📝

@shadeops21's Quackbang! based of my Jade in Ghost's Jacket illlustration. 🖼️📝

@simonriley1994 's Fanfic of Meteor Showers 📝

[lostuzumaki]

Hola, es un placer conocerte

Soy Nana, de las costas peruanas y aunque no sé mucho de inglés, con lo básico que sé y entiendo, me he divertido muchísimo con tu comic de Luffy reencarnado!!!

Y adorable ver al pequeño capitán tomar el mando tan joven, ya quiero seguir leyendo lo que le espera

Si no es mucha molestia, podría preguntar si habrá Acesan de casualidad por allí?? (Me topé con tu cómic especial de Halloween y ENLOQUECÍ)

Estoy encantada con tu comic, por favor, sigue así<3

(Disculpen mi español, lo escribí todo en el traductor)

Hola, Nana,

Me alegra que te guste tanto mi au y que lo leas a pesar de la barrera del idioma.

Por lo demás, sobre la nave Acesan, no hago ship entre chicos en este comic AU.

Yo diría que su grupo es más de un amigo a veces hermano tipo de grupo en el que curar sus heridas del alma.

Si alguna vez llego a la etapa en que todo el grupo son adultos, puede haber algo de esa nave allí.

English version here

Hi, Nana,

I'm glad you like my au so much and you read it despite the language barrier.

Otherwise, about the ship Acesan, I don't do ship between kids in this AU comic.

I'd say their group is more of a buddy to sometimes sibling kind of group where they heal their soul wounds.

If I ever get to the stage where the whole group is adults, there may be some of that ship in there.

[waltwhitmansbeard]

chapter seven

Keyleth wakes up to raised voices. It takes her a few minutes to haul herself out of bed, now that her center of gravity is all out of sorts, and she hobbles through the house in search of the argument. She finds it in her father’s study, where Korrin and Alma are glaring at each other, arms crossed and jaws clenched, which is comical for any number of reasons. “What…is happening?”

“Nothing,” her dad says too quickly, so she believes Alma when she says, “The former Headmaster doesn’t believe my expert opinion.”

“That is not what I—”

Keyleth rubs a tired hand over her face. “Can I get some context please?”

Korrin doesn’t give Alma the opportunity to talk first. “We’re having a disagreement about the trip to Westruun.”

Keyleth frowns. “The trip to Westruun that starts in, like, two hours?” The Air Ashari are offering assistance with the revitalization of Westruun’s crop fields in exchange for the city’s taking on some of the still-displaced refugees from Vasselheim. “What about it?”

“He thinks you shouldn’t go,” Alma says accusatorially. 

That surprises Keyleth, who is unused to her father recommending she shy away from her work. “Dad?”

“Gods above, Keyleth, look at you! Do you really think it’s wise to be so far from home right now?”

She presses her lips together to keep from smiling. He’s so distressed, his mouth pulled taut and his brow furrowed. She goes over to him and presses a kiss to his cheek. “Dad, I’m eight months pregnant, not an invalid. I’m going with Blades, and also one time I killed a god. I think I can handle a few boring meetings and some time out in a field.”

continue reading on ao3 please consider donating to my ko-fi

[tomhardymyking]

I recently read that...

today would be 𝗘𝗱𝗱𝗶𝗲 𝗕𝗿𝗼𝗰𝗸's birthday ❤️

I say "would be" because the exact date is not known, although in a comic it was hinted that it was this, and he doesn't like it because he remembers what happened with his mother 🥺💖 I imagine the same thing happens in the movies too (hence the confrontation in the prison scene with 𝗖𝗹𝗲𝘁𝘂𝘀 𝗞𝗮𝘀𝗮𝗱𝘆 in 𝑽𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒎: 𝑳𝒆𝒕 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝑩𝒆 𝑪𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒈𝒆)

So, Happy Birthday, love of my life, I love you with all my soul 💝🎂🎈🎉!

⠀⠀

Hace poco leí que...

hoy sería el cumpleaños de 𝗘𝗱𝗱𝗶𝗲 𝗕𝗿𝗼𝗰𝗸 ❤️

Digo "sería" porque no se sabe la fecha exacta aunque en un comic se insinuó que era ésta, y a él no le gusta porque recuerda lo que pasó con su madre 🥺💖 Me imagino que en las películas también pasa lo mismo (de ahí la escena de la cárcel con 𝗖𝗹𝗲𝘁𝘂𝘀 𝗞𝗮𝘀𝗮𝗱𝘆 en 𝑽𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒎: 𝑯𝒂𝒃𝒓𝒂́ 𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒛𝒂)

Así que, ¡Feliz Cumpleaños, amor de mi vida, te quiero con toda mi alma 💝🎂🎈🎉!

⠀⠀

[odin-den]

Then he died.

Characters: Simon 'Ghost' Riley, Captain John Price, John 'Soap' MacTavish (mentioned)

Relationships: None (unless... 😳)

Summary: Three times Price thinks about Ghost, and one time he thinks about ghosts, a.k.a. if activision won't give me Price/Ghost backstory I'll make it my damn self.

Word count: 517

Notes: Alludes to Ghost's original/comics backstory but nothing explict since who knows whats cannon in the reboot. Dates are eyeballed assuming Ghost joined the SAS in his early 20s and his now early/mid 30s.

Price first met Simon Riley in 2013, and he first met Ghost in 2017. Simon earned the title of Ghost quickly, he always seemed quiet, avoiding small talk between missions, and was near silent when he was working. Quite a feat for a man of his size. They were friends as much as Simon would let them be and, as Price learnt more about the man, he understood why he kept his distance. But Simon had found a way out, he had survived, and was ensuring the good parts of his family did too. He was endlessly optimistic in small moments, a mission was never a lost cause, and a rare missed shot was merely an opportunity for a joke. Price could forget others found him intimidating when they got bored during stakeouts and competed to tell the worst dad jokes. It was a testament to the strength of their friendship that they were able to overcome even such high barriers as Simon being from Manchester.

Then he went home for leave over Christmas 2016, and Ghost returned with the new year. The mask was nothing new, he'd long worn a version of it on missions and frequently on base. But, after those fateful weeks Price didn't see him without it for nearly 5 years. Something happened to Simon, Price could read the reports and medical records to learn the events but what they did to his friend.... That was a story only he could tell, and he never did. The hardest part, Price thought, was the watching. Watching Simon be erased from Ghost's eyes a little more each mission, watching no one else see it happening, watching Ghost still hunch his shoulders the same way Simon had when he was nervous. Ghost hunched his shoulders a lot more than Simon ever had. The quiet that accompanied Simon on missions was practical, with Ghost it lay heavy, something unspoken always hanging in the air. 

Then Las Almas brought a bit of Simon back. A new version even, with new friends who hadn't yet heard his terrible jokes so many times they circled around to be funny. Slowly, in the months that followed Price accepted that he was never getting the old Simon Riley back and that this new version might even be an improvement, the tension that had always lined his edges finally lessened. Simon was gone again barely a year later. Price could never tell a soul that he lost two men that day, and one for the second time. 

Then, one cold morning after November 21st Price was hit, with startling clarity, by the realisation that Soap would never know how funny Simon used to be. Then he wondered if Las Almas was the only time Soap saw Simon, not 'the Ghost'. He wondered if Soap left behind two ghosts, one admittedly far more literal as he saw what parts of Simon that had been rebuilt crumble. Later he will wonder if he left behind three. He will take his revenge before then, and it will not be enough to bring any of them back.