#the first one is solid but the last one is RENDERED?????

[whaliiwatching]

How DO you think universe signatures work? I don't think I've seen many theories or discussions on it but I also haven't been looking for them either

HOHOOO UNIVERSE SIGNATURES. ok. as i was rewatching scenes so i could write this, my theories fucking blinked out of existence :) there is as much consistency to universe signatures as there is to the atsv timeline.

alright lets see how incoherent this gets

btw i’m not using the word ‘dimension.’ incorrect scientific terminology in an animated spider man comic movie franchise about the multiverse? couldn’t be me. i already let them keep their holograms*

itsv came out in 2018 and is reported to have taken four years to make. in 2014, we couldn’t have made atsv; the technology hadn’t been developed, because there wasn’t yet a movie to demand it. (usually when the question comes up during production, the team has to invent an answer. like animating violet’s hair in the incredibles in 2004, or water in finding nemo in 2003, or fur for sully in the monsters inc movies, or the entire animation process of 2019’s klaus, or reflections on the cars in cars—) this, combined with itsv being set entirely in miles’s own universe, means that the b team’s (noir, peni, ham) universe signatures changing between universes can be attributed to 1. less worldbuilding than atsv and 2. lack of technological ability in 2014-2018 (no diss to the og animators obviously, itsv is fucking gorgeous)

but that’s a boring doylist analysis. i wonder if we can get watsonian. atsv, which was likely produced from 2017 or so to 2023, explores four more universes, rather than sticking to miles’s. surely it’ll have more answers!

i went through the entire movie to see what changes. not gonna bore y’all with a scene to scene analysis, so i’ll summarize: the only person who substantially differs between dimensions is gwen (abstract in E-65, solid but still pastel in E-1610, slightly more painted in E-50101, abstract again in E-928 during emotional scenes). hobie’s collage changes to match the tone or color palette of the universe around him, but doesn’t take on its signature. other than that, the only effect any universe has on every character is with its light, and the only effect to overpower a universe signature is a portal.

let’s pretend that in an infinite multiverse, such a thing as a standard can be set, and that standard is Comic Style. comparing it to itsv, where peni and ham gained depth from previously 2d-esque universes, it seems as though some things don’t change—general color palette and extreme stylistic divergences from the aforementioned standard, eg when atsv peni is styled in 2d—and some change universally—like universe-specific volumetric light, eg in itsv when E-1610’s halftone-style light gives peni depth and in atsv when E-928’s holographic-style light does the same in a different way.

then portals. they distort the space around them in their style of origin: organic portals always have miles’s universe’s signature because that’s where they were born; any portal opened with an E-928 watch has miguel’s orange holographic hexagon, no matter who uses them or where they open to; portals opened with hobie’s homemade watch are always collage, though they take on the color palette of the universe they’re opened in. that means portals have to be watch-specific, prolly based on the materials’ universe of origin, but in that case, hobie’s would look a lot like miguel’s since he harvested most if not all of the parts from E-928. so it has to be specific to either the person who made it or the universe it was made in.

but neither of those make sense! the degree of separation from universe/person that apparently applies to the watches doesn’t apply to items left in other universes. E-1610’s rubik’s cube retains its color and volume in noir’s universe, but the sweater gwen leaves on miles’s bed isn’t abstract, and the shoes she nicked from E-138 aren’t scrappy. even hobie’s watch is rendered in strangely crisp 3d, brightly colored and noticeably not collage.

and of course, both universe-specific light theory and portals-overpower-all theory aren’t totally consistent. hobie’s only properly illuminated when he’s in his base colors. but maybe that’s a quirk of atsv? he doesn’t glitch like paper in the radius of a portal—renaissance vulture didn’t glitch like paper either, maybe that’s just how glitching works! maybe it’s always that tv-signal-bright blocky mess! maybe there is one concrete rule in all this!!!!!

noir’s universe (during his intro scene, at least) comprises of three solid colors: black, light gray, and white, and volume/shadow is communicated through the intensity of halftone used. in itsv and in atsv he’s always in black and white, no matter the color of the light around him. he’s also the ONLY CHARACTER who glitches differently. noir breaks down in black and white!! when the team is lit up by gwen’s portal in atsv’s final scene he’s the only one not distorting in color!!!!! what the fuck man!!!!!!!!!

there isn’t one cohesive multiversal rule for how universe signatures act and interact with different universes, much as i’d love to have one. it raises too many questions and doesn’t give quite enough evidence to study. the closest i can theorize is color/style generally sticks and lighting/spatial physics generally doesn’t, and since that’s relatively simple, i’ll use it. gwen gets her photo-booth-app watercolors and peni/pav/ham/noir get just a little more rendered.

theories i have seen floating around that i also enjoy

gwen’s universe requires people to be in tune with it, to reflect their emotions—implying that the floaty abstract art during her scene with her father is diagetic. so when she’s not in her universe, she’s not like her universe.

hobie’s universe signature necessitates that he doesn’t conform to any other style

on that note, so would ham’s, because cartoon logic defeats reality logic

hope you enjoyed!! or at least were amused by my suffering <3

*do not get me started on holograms

[lupucs]

Light World class pic ☀️

Wireframe:

Solid View:

Raw Render (without comp):

Wooo its finally done peeps! At last, here's the Deltarune Light World group render featuring Alphys's whole class! It's sort of a counterpart to my Dark World group render from a couple days ago. I also added some comp to improve the lighting and reused an old bg (some of you might remember which anim that's from hehe).

From left to right: Susie, Kris, Berdly, Noelle, Alphys, Jockington, Temmie, Catti, Monster Kid and Snowy!

These models were a ton of work to make but overall I'm really happy with how this turned out. The only light world model missing here is Rudy... I didn't know how to add him here since this was supposed to be a class pic of sorts, but maybe I'll make a designated render for him one day, since I really like his character even though he doesn't get a lot of screentime in-game. Oh, also first look at Deltarune Alphys!! Since I already made her rig for my Undertale animation, I just had to model her Deltarune clothes and bind em to the rig with an extra switch.

Anyways, feel free to use this as a wallpaper if you want!

Here's a link to the full resolution should the resolution be crushed by Tumblr.

[livelaughlovesubs]

Fucking chuuya in moris room (the the the one with the big ass window and like, where 15 happened pls tell me yk what I mean) fucking him over moris desk while you can hear him approaching, and he’s trying to cover up his moans n shit, pls Nini understand me, I’m already struggling 🙁🙁🙁

But chuuya

Literally pls I’m so atrocious for this little slippery twink Plsplsplspls please nini, more chuuya

Brooooo 😭😭 I literally love you <33

Dom!reader x sub!chuuya

Warning: exhibition, pegging (can be read as a dick), a little manhandling, hair pulling, degrading

How did things turn out this way? Never would chuuya have guessed he’d do something this atrocious, this risky. All he remembered was agreeing to something, before you pulled him into this room. Even if he wanted to think about it, his mind was somewhere else, preoccupied and focusing on the scenario in front of him. Colourful lights shone through the huge windows of the room, lighting the room up and exposing everything. Soft pantings as well as the occasional yelp filled the huge chamber, there was almost an echo due to the size of the office.

The male arched his back, bending over the long and solid table. His hands gripping the other end of the desk, shoulders raised to his ears and torso flat on the furniture. Your hands were on his waist, holding him down. Some of your weight was on him, rendering him unable to move. There was nothing he could do in this situation, not when it was such a vulnerable and helpless position.

Chuuyas eyes rolled back when he noticed you pressing your hips against his, burying your dick even deeper inside him. His tongue hung out, droll dripping onto the table, dirtying it. “Such a perverted boy, arent you enjoying it too much?” You whispered into his ear, hands squeezing his waist gently. Another shudder coursed through his body, all those sensations were getting to him. First your delightful touch, then your beautiful voice casting spells onto him, as well as the pleasure of taking you whole.

He clenched, his entrance tightening around you while moans erupted from his throat. You pulled back before pounding into his wet and needy hole again, sending another shudder down his spine. “Aahh..! Fu-fuck..! You are the, mHmM- perverted one..- uggGh..” the male gasped, feeling the humiliating take over him. This was so inappropriate and.. embarrassing- ugh, his thoughts weren’t helping him at all. How did he even muster up the courage to do this in his boss’ room?

An especially rough trust pulled him out of his day dream, followed by a high pitched whimpers, “mhMM-aAAHHHhhnGn..!! Y/n..!” He gasped out your name, back arching even more now. The thought of doing this in the office of someone else was scary, het also arousing, he couldn’t deny that aspect.

Though he felt his heart dropping when he heard something from beneath the door, it sounded like voices. Not just one, but multiple. For a split second, he felt the world stopping. As if fate was playing a cruel game. When that second passed, all that filled his senses were immense pleasure provided by none other than you. Your dick kept hitting all his sweet spots, rendering him to a mess who can’t even think straight.

“Ah.. y/n..! So-someone, mhHHmnggh, is commMMIINngG..!” You paused a little too, caught off guard by his comment. Though instead of stopping, you leaned down and said, “then you just have to finish soon, chuuya, or else I won’t stop.” His eyes widened, were you serious..? It would make such a bad look and awkward if mori were to see him in such a state. What if Elise is with him too? How can you be so irresponsible!

What he didn’t know was that mori had a last second meeting today, you made sure that nothing will disrupt your alone time with your lover. There was no need to tell him yet though, maybe if he was getting really desperate. Instead to slowing down, you speed up. Both hands now grabbing his arms and holding him behind him tightly. “Remember what I told you, chuuya~ you wouldn’t want rumours to spread no?”

“Ah.. no, you are so-mHHMNngHhhh, meannnn..!” Hair stuck to his pretty and blushed face. Tears started rolling down his face when you pulled on his hair. Even though it was humiliating and shameful to the core, he just couldn’t not enjoy it. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth while he accepted your challenge. Nodding his head slightly as he mumbled, “keep going..! I luvve it..<3”

[habken]

I LOVE your art! Maybe you already have one, but would you consider dropping a coloring tutorial?

I will try my best !

First step is to draw the thing obviously

Next thing I do is I block my drawing in with a solid colour! This prevents gaps in my colouring, making sure I’ve coloured every part, which will help when I make the background.

Then I make another layer and set it to clipping mask and start adding flats on the hair, the skin, and clothes.

After that, I add details to the flats, blush, shading, etc. It’s pretty messy but it lets me play around with colour and make sure it looks nice before I start blending

Next, I blend! I add more details to the eyes, render out the blush, and focus more on tidying up where I might’ve gone over the line with my flats. Then it’s just rendering until I’m happy!

Finally, any last little details and stuff I want to add then I’m done!

Here’s a timelapse to show my process :) I hope this could help !

[egophiliac]

any book 7 predictions? :)

I don't like to speculate TOO much, since it usually ends up going in a totally unexpected direction that renders all theorizing moot (gestures to episode 6) (did anyone have "it starts with robots breaking into the school and kidnapping everyone" on their bingo? no, I didn't think so). but I do feel pretty certain that the main crisis is going to involve Malleus deciding that the best solution to all these Uncomfortable Feelings is to just...magically put everyone to sleep for some hundred-odd years so he won't outlive them. problem solved! where did all this ink come from

there's a few things I would like to see from 7, but I don't have any solid expectations either way on:

the mysterious f o u r t h y e a r s

Malleus in full dragon form

child Malleus in flashback? :D :D :D

we'll probably get Silver's backstory, but maybe not his last name (I'm still terrified that he does have one, and it's...also Silver.)

SHOW ME THE DIASOMNIA UNIQUE MAGICS (I feel like Silver's could be something to do with dreams, that seems thematically fitting to me?) (and I know Sebek is supposed to be lightning-based but I do think it would be hilarious if his power was just A Really Big Bite) (he takes after his mom!)

it would also be super cool if Ortho got a UM, though I could see it going either way on whether or not he can even have one (I feel like narratively, Ace is more likely to get his during whatever ends up happening with Grim, so while it would be a nice surprise, I'm not expecting it for a while) (now watch as it's the first thing that happens)

I know they're not going to just show me Sebek's family (unless...? 👀) but any time they're so much as mentioned it's absolutely delightful and I want more of them

zero idea if it's going to go this way, but I would lose my entire mind if they did that one trope that's like

(look, Silver's main personality trait is "loves his dad", I don't make the rules)

[ruminiscence]

Character Analysis of Johan Liebert - Monster, Naoki Urasawa (2004)

In my opinion, Johan represents Jung's concept of the shadow, which is why both Tenma and Nina couldn't kill him in the end. Despite tirelessly, and relentlessly going after him. If they did end up doing so, they would be destroying themselves in the process. The constant fear on Tenma's face once he heard the buzz words 'monster' and 'inside of me' highlights his underlying fear. It is, of course, aggravating, considering how close they both were to killing Johan (multiple times, might I add). But, to them, it would have come at too high a cost.

Consequently, Johan was not the monster he and everyone thought him to be. The forgiveness Nina offered to Johan (as well as) Tenma’s acceptance (in a way) gave Johan that validation. In my opinion, Johan had an identity problem, not a complete lack thereof, as most people say. Johan completely understood how senseless the world is; the picture book from his childhood made sense of that senselessness. That narrative (mostly born from the book) gave significance to his existence, whether he knew it or not. I found it interesting that he went through several names throughout his life, but ‘Johan Liebert’ was recurring. Whether this is just for convenience's sake, I don’t know.

The scene where we see his reaction when re-reading the book (likely the first time since he was a child) furthers this notion. Johan's facial expressions are to be paid attention to, every single one, even if they barely change. We see the most significant change in his face in the final scene: that of sheer disappointment, hopelessness, and defeat. His master plan did not go accordingly; the plan was for him to be completely wiped off the face of the earth, rendered fictitious. The drunk man who unexpectedly shot him stripped him of that. So did Tenma, in not allowing Johan to kill/destroy his (Tenma’s) altruistic nature.

Johan's perfect suicide ultimately fails because he is not the nameless monster he believed himself to be; this is shown merely in the fact that he does not kill (nor even think about killing) Nina & Tenma; he realised that they are the only two people to understand him in this world. This also explains Johan's bizarre attachment to Tenma from the get-go (which also makes a lot of sense). In the scene where we listen to the tape, we're made aware of Johan's desperation; he does not want to forget 'Anna'; he believes they are the only two people in the world. Later on, Tenma was added to that list. Hence, every other person's life is rendered meaningless to Johan; this is the reason for his remorseless killings, of course. He killed everyone that could eventually be tied into his and Anna/Nina's existence, and arguably Tenma, too.

I also think Johan eventually lets go of this (seemingly) obsession with names in the final scene. Whether the last scene of him and Tenma speaking was a dream or not remains significant. Before Tenma reveals his potential real name to Johan, the subject is changed. This is when we learn about the biological mother's sacrifice. Despite her not choosing to sacrifice Johan, he still doubts the decision. All of this is to say that perhaps the failure of his perfect suicidal plan was, in fact, the real success after all. He successfully kills everyone who does not know him but knows of the nameless monster's existence. This explains why the only two people on this earth who did are still alive and were eventually saved emotionally.

In a way, they also saved Johan too. Hence the *seemingly* peaceful disappearance from the hospital. He just wanted to be understood. This is also why I believe he asked Nina to shoot him as a child and then again all those years later. His mother placed this seed of doubt, which he seemed confident in, but because of Nina's existence, he could extend this and not be entirely solid in this sense of doubt. He latched this on to Nina's being, hence merging their identities. As a child, he did seek her forgiveness despite his contradictory actions (asking to be shot). When she finally offered forgiveness in a similar situation later on, the doubt was gone. That little spec of forgiveness and acceptance was all he needed. Acceptance is not to say that he wanted her or even Tenma to accept his actions; hence, Johan says, 'We can't turn back now' when Nina does forgive him. Other people and their deaths (at his hands) simply did not matter to him; he was utterly indifferent to it. So evidently, that one thing mattered to him, which he mostly did not believe to be real; it turned real, giving him what he had so desperately been looking for since childhood. He is saved. The only three people that mattered in the show (concerning Johan's essence) are saved. 

[fozmeadows]

hey. i think i'm going through a phase of self-hatred and… I don't know, of believing I'm not capable of anything. would you have any tips or books that approach this from an AFAB/trans perspective so I can cope? (it's not that I hate myself for being trans. I just have insecurities, anxieties and I don't know what to do to stop most things from seeming so discouraging, for lack of a better word.)

I'm sorry you're having a hard time! I don't have any book recommendations, and I'm not exactly an expert, but:

Where possible, try to focus on what you enjoy about the process of an action instead of worrying about the end result. A lot of anxiety comes from privileging a hypothetical future version of yourself ahead of the person you are in the moment, and while it's still good to have goals and aspirations for the future, that doesn't render your present self irrelevant, because that's who you have to be to achieve them.

To give a personal example: late last year, I was really disappointed with how little reading I'd managed to get done in 2023 particularly, but also over the pandemic. I'd bought all these awesome books that I really wanted to read, but I never seemed to get around to starting most of them, and meanwhile, I was spending hours of my life mindlessly doomscrolling Twitter and TikTok, which regardless of anything else is a really good way to depress yourself about the state of the world. So I sat down and thought about it, and I realized that the problem was how much pressure I was putting on myself about reading. I wanted so badly to finish books that I was psyching myself out of starting them in the first place, because each choice had to be Perfect, lest I pick the wrong book at the wrong time and waste twenty minutes or an hour or three reading something I might later set aside. And because I'd subconsciously set the stakes for starting a book so much higher than they needed to be, I'd end up dithering and scrolling social media to delay having to make a high-pressure choice at all.

In other words: I'd become so concerned about Future Foz's hypothetical dislike of a book I was yet to start reading that Present Foz would be scared to start it in the first place. I was forever privileging a version of myself that didn't exist and likely never would over the person I was now, and it was making me wildly unhappy, because it felt like I was failing at something I loved.

So my single New Years' Resolution became: to value myself and my time in the moment. If I catch myself scrolling for too long, I ask myself: is there literally anything else I'd rather be doing right now? Could I start a TV show, or a book, or a game, or write something, or message a friend, or have a bath? It doesn't matter if the activity goes anywhere long term; what matters is that I inevitably get more pleasure out of doing something than not. My time now matters, because I matter.

And suddenly, just from that one change? For the first time in I couldn't even say how long, I've read something every single day this year. In the whole of 2023, I read just 67 books; it's now the 30th of March 2024, and I've already finished 33. By giving myself permission to start things without the pressure to finish them, I'm suddenly finishing way more than when I was telling myself I had to finish everything, and I am vastly happier for it.

Is the world still a burning hellscape that daily makes me want to yeet a solid 80% of elected politicians globally into the sun? Yes. Am I still working on self-improvement in other areas of my life? Yes. Is it magically any easier being trans and queer in the current moment? No. But it helps to focus on who I am now, in this hour, in this minute, instead of worrying so much about whether some future version of me will think I spent this time badly that I don't use it for anything at all.

I don't know if this is helpful to your situation, and if it's not, I apologize for rambling. But it's a little change I've made lately that's helped me a lot, and I hope it might help you, too.

[dokidokitsuna]

Slowly, I think I’m getting a handle on this…I tried studying the character art from my favorite dead MMORPG, Maple Story 2, and I think it helped me find a style for the shading and rendering that’s more dramatic but still sort of cartoony.

Plus, I’ve been doing a bit of script writing, which always helps me figure things out. ^^ So please enjoy the additional work I’ve done on these character concepts.

-Between these two, Magolor definitely needed the most work: you can tell because I basically drew a full character design sheet, which is something I almost never do because I don’t like repetition. XP But it doesn’t feel repetitive when I’m totally lost to begin with. ^^; I think I got a little too abstract that first time I drew him, so my focus here was to figure out the specific shape of his body and rebuild outward from there. In stark contrast to my usual Magolor designs, he’s very tall and muscular, with an imposing silhouette (especially with his cape on). Yes, he IS hiding something under all those purple bandages, but we won’t talk about it today. ;)

-I also like that his outfit gets darker the further inside you go, from the solid white cape and glittering chains, to the silver armor and gray scarves, to the skintight navy blue fit underneath. Symbolism??? Perhaps~

-Blade’s design was already pretty solid, so I just adjusted her cape a little, and then dove straight into the Rainbow Malady concept art. ^^ Phase 1 has her sprout a second eye and wings on one side of her face. Her head catches fire, as the power of the Rainbow Sword attempts to ‘burn away the darkness’. In this phase, Blade is already in a lot of pain, but remains fully conscious and can even speak, when she isn’t coughing up multicolored blood. She can recover from this on her own with a day of rest. Phase 2 is much more serious, forcing her organs outside of her body, and growing star-shaped welts over the rest of her skin. At this point, she can no longer recover without Magolor’s help-- essentially, he uses magic to shove all her organs back where they belong and stitch up the open wounds. It’s like setting a bone after it’s broken-- just as painful as the injury itself (if not more), but necessary for proper healing…which takes about a week.  Phase 3 is the last and worst, transforming her arms into elongated wings and her whole body into burning plasma, on top of all the issues from Phase 2. Thankfully, she can’t really remain conscious in this phase-- she’s usually delirious from fever, blood loss, and her brain literally burning away. ^^; Storywise, she needs about a month to recover from this, so she doesn’t use it too often…of course, as the 'player', you can put her through it as many times as you want. =T

-Fun fact, I guess: So the primary love language between these two characters is food. ^^ I was musing about what I could do with a protagonist arc centered around worsening illness (which is…surprisingly rare), and I thought, “so what do you do for sick people? You put them to bed, you manage their symptoms, you clean and comfort them…and most importantly, you feed them.” And then ^that little doodle basically came to me in a dream, and from there evolved the idea of Magolor showing kindness to Blade by cooking for her.

Most of the time, the little affection Magolor shows to Blade is…basically performative. Think of it like a hammy supervillain petting their cat-- it’s more of a character stim than anything else. ^^; The way Magolor talks to Blade (and especially the way he talks about her…) makes it clear that the hand-holding and headpats don’t mean much.

But on the other hand, giving Blade food and watching her cutely devour it, especially during the times when she’s bed-ridden and he doesn’t see her as often…I like to think that might genuinely endear her to him a little, enough to make it a sort of stand-out gesture. Like, if he strokes her forehead when she’s sick, that’s whatever; but when he spends 5 hours making a Maxim tomato consommé for her to eat, that’s him trying to say he cares. Maybe it’s just a tiny bit, maybe it’s just in that moment, but a small part of him truly wants her to be happy.

[void-chara]

My gift for the @technoblade-gift-exchange !! i was assigned to @simplepotatofarmer who asked for dsmp rivals duo. i hope you like it Loyal!

rambling about headcanons, designs, and my process and stuff under the readmore, because i wanna talk about it but dont want the post to be super long !!

i had originally planned to not have a background and then at the last second i decided to speedrun drawing one in a few hours so um. quality difference but its fine. also unrelated but im pretty sure everything about how i draw animals and anthros makes it very obvious i used to be in the warrior cats fandom lol. anyway onto the designs!!

the gold on techno is scars from the totem at the execution, which i think is a pretty common thing for techno designs. he isnt supposed to be a piglin, but rather similar species of anthropomorphic pig. also his mane and tail fluff are naturally brown but he dyes them pink ^_^ so cool !! um. i maaayyy have forgotten the crown until i was way too far into the piece to add it. haha. oops. pretend its missing because. uuh. hes in a casual outfit. "but he still has the cape" yeah its comfy. "but dream has a mask thats not casual" dream is dream he does Not relax fully ever. see entirely intentional i would never make a mistake.

dream is an original shapeshifter species i came up with because i couldnt decide what i wanted him to be. i havent decided on a name for the species yet but i plan to make almost every solid-color or nearly solid color mcyt into this species. theyre mostly involuntary/unconscious shapeshifters. so like they change slowly over weeks or months to adapt to their surroundings, with little conscious control. basically i wanted him to be like five different things so i shoved them together lol, rabbit ears but in a pattern that looks like an axolotl, a cool tail, TOE BEANS tho you cant see them. this was actually the first time ive ever had a dream design im happy with so thats really nice.

i um. i made full use of my time lol, i spent a bit over a week on the lineart, another week on the coloring, and maybe a week and a half on rendering. unless i suddenly became shit at math(which is possible) that adds up to roughly the amount of time i had to work on it. im really proud of myself actually since i usually take a while to do art, and i wasnt sure i would be able to make something id be happy with in this amount of time. but i did! woah!! this was my first time participating in a fandom gift exchange and it was so fun, and also helped motivate me to draw more instead of getting distracted like i usually do (classic adhd moment) lol. anyway super cool!!

Loyal if u decided to read all this for some reason then again i really hope u like it!! u are so cool and i really love ur rivals duo opinions and creations so i hope u like this! i know theres been shit happening lately, i hope ur doing ok!!

[sotwk]

Unnecessary Guardian (Legolas x FReader fluff drabble)

Summary: Legolas insists on secretly guarding his dear friend on her first patrols as a new Mirkwood Spider Hunter. (A/N: Reader does not actually appear in the story, but is alluded to as "She".)

Prompt: Story inspired by the Anonymous share received below:

Word count: 790

Rating: General Audience

Content: Fluffy implied romance, brotherly banter and ribbing, OC Mirkwood Prince, Feren

Warnings: None

To Read on AO3: Link

Dedication: For Anon: Thank you for inspiring me to write my first-ever drabble! I hope your job training continues to go well, and that having Legolas as your imaginary guardian gives you strength and confidence. <3

Divider credit: @firefly-graphics

Unnecessary Guardian

Third Age 1254 Spring

Mirkwood

“It will be the last time I ask this favor, brother. I swear it,” insisted Legolas, twisting his body to narrowly avoid collision with a hunter ducking back out of the crowded armory shed. 

Gelir rolled his eyes as he yanked a sheaf of arrows from the weapons rack and slid it into his leather quiver. “And last week, you swore it would be the one and only time.” With the younger prince stubbornly on his tail, he marched out to the assembly grounds, where over half of his unit had already gathered.  

"I misjudged how long my protection would be needed."

“Needed?” Gelir barked a laugh as he strapped on the last of his gear. “If your conclusion from that patrol is that she needs anyone to protect her, then you must not have been watching very carefully. And that, honeg, would only render your gallant services even more unnecessary.”

Protests died on Legolas’s lips, silenced by the truth. His mind flashed back on the memories of that first attack, when a spider the size of an aurochs charged at your party from an underground lair. He had been following high above in the trees, as close as he could get without defying Gelir’s orders. He barely had a chance to raise his bow before your arrow found its mark dead center in the spider’s cluster of eyes. Hit in its most vulnerable spot, the creature collapsed writhing, leaving it to be finished off easily by the knives of your comrades. 

“She outshot Feren at the range yesterday,” Gelir said, snapping Legolas out of his daze and making him wonder if his brother had snuck into his thoughts. The prince grinned and brandished two fingers at another hunter standing within earshot. “Twice.”

“Two times out of five rounds,” Feren called out with a shrug. “I got her in three.”

“Still a worthy achievement, from previously never being able to best you,” Gelir hollered over at his second-in-command. “She is learning and growing by leaps and bounds. I for one am eager to see how quickly she will rise in rank.

“Well, she should be arriving any second now,” Feren interjected, throwing a pointed glance at Legolas. “I would suggest heading off, unless you are willing to answer what I can only assume would be a string of uncomfortable questions should she find you here."

Legolas grabbed Gelir’s arm before he could walk away to join his unit. “Please.”

Something in the tone of his voice must have moved the older prince, because he stopped short to study him for a long pause. “All right,” Gelir finally said. “You may come along, like a sneaky little stowaway. Again.”

He tutted and held up a hand as Legolas’s expression cracked into a jubilant smile. “But only IF you admit that you are doing this not for her, but for you.” The Captain of the Spiderhunters grinned and clapped a hand on his arm. “Your attempts to feed me such frail lies is just insulting now, honeg. Solid, convincing lies, those I can respect. But this one is weak.”

Legolas raised his chin and fought vainly against the flush creeping up his neck.  

“I believe she benefits from having me--”

“Tsk, no. Try again.”

Legolas hissed and turned away, clutching his head in frustration. Gelir was not one to magnanimously let an opportunity like this pass, not when he had him cornered like desperate prey. Any moment now, you were likely to appear at the clearing, and he would be caught without an excuse for being all this way across the kingdom, so far from the Elvenking’s Halls where his duties lay. 

Legolas let out a slow, deep breath, then drew it slowly back in. “I…care about her,” he mumbled grudgingly, but as he released these words, a hard knot in his chest seemed to loosen with it. “I just want… I need to know she will not come to harm out there.”

At last, a smile that actually looked proud and sympathetic flickered on Gelir’s face. Reaching out with both hands, he grabbed his brother by the sides of his face and lightly knocked his forehead against his. Then just as quickly, he gripped him by the shoulders and gave him an affectionate little shake. 

"Be more careful about staying out of sight. Only Feren and I are wise to this and we will cover for you if need be, but do not make it harder for us by inviting suspicion.”

“Annon allen. I am in your debt,” vowed Legolas, already backing away and preparing to make himself scarce.

Gelir laughed and waved him off. “You are still a fool! But that is a problem I shall help you fix another time.”

Tag List: @aduialel @fizzyxcustard @heilith @laneynoir @quickslvxr @achromaticerebus @auttumnsayshi @tamryniel @legoriel-fan

To join my tag list, please fill out this FORM.

For more stories, please see My Masterlist.

Requests are open! Please check my Guidelines and send an Ask.

[moodyseal]

i hear you are 🤡clowning🤡 over Commodus coming to his senses so I have slid into your inbox to 🤡clown🤡 with you about it

What 🤡clown🤡 thoughts have you been harboring about this��

for science.

🤡<-me and you

SOMEONE WILLING TO CLOWN WITH ME A BIT okay uhm. I was mostly having thoughts about the reasons for his behaviour, actually, and in the end I came to the conclusion that he's not entirely unredeemable, or at least he wasn't up until the fight at the Waystation in TDP, where he became a serious threat to the lives of the people who lived there (and actually got Heloise killed)

Like, if you ignore for a moment his past deeds and historical background (because if we accepted the atrocities as quirky parts of Apollo's personality we can do the same for him /j) and look at what he actually did for the first two thirds of the book, you'll notice that he wasn't as cruel as, say, Caligula or Nero. For example, he didn't kill all the prisoners he was holding captive, like Caligula would've done, even if Georgina (and maybe Hunter, since she's one of Artemis' hunters) was the only one that was actually useful in luring Apollo in, and at the end of the book he was still agreeing to let everyone go as long as Apollo and Meg went with him.

This shows that he is capable of some kind of restraint and not totally incapable to be reasoned with, which makes for some solid villain redemption arc material; the only problems, other than his small bloodlust problem that, again, we'll skip over for now and deal with some other day, are

a) the behavioural issues his relationship with his father led to (that could've been actually dealt with if only someone told him that therapists are an option today),

b) his ugly, horrid desire of revenge against Apollo,

and c) his narcissistic tendencies, which resulted in him not acknowledging the whole concept of. You know. Other people's feelings and how his actions might affect them.

They're all intrinsically tied together, and as a whole they're the main reason why, in the past as well as after his death and deification, Commodus was unwilling to accept any sort of help or suggestion coming from the people around him, and Apollo specifically. Before his death, he didn't acknowledge that there was a problem with his behaviour at all; to him, his actions were always right, and the people around him were vilifying him when he didn't deserve it, all while trying to suffocate his desires and needs. The lack of his father's support throughout his adolescence only intensified those feelings, and at the same time rendered him all the more vulnerable, making him latch strongly onto anyone he felt like would always support him—Apollo, in this case. Inevitably, the betrayal of the only person he trusted unconditionally (which was done for Rome and its citizens' own good, but was still a betrayal) had an explosive result, leading to Commodus' attitude worsening, him becoming effectively deaf to the guidance of anyone who didn't agree with him (when in the past there was a chance that maybe he would have listened to Apollo, at least, had he intervened sooner) and, finally, him making his life's goal destroying Apollo's life.

Despite the fact that any last bit of love Commodus had for him turned into blinding hatred, though, there were still some feelings in his heart that weren't rage. He didn't show them; on the contrary, he tried to hide them, and that's because they were a sign that there was still some vulnerability left in him—that he cared, to a degree. Had Commodus' revenge been the two dimensional kind, where he didn't give any sign of care about what happened two thousand years before and operated solely on the train of thought of "kill, maim, destroy" even when he barely thought about Apollo being the reason he died, I wouldn't have thought of there being a chance of him coming to his senses. But instead, with these feelings, Commodus demonstrated that he didn't forget, and that as much as he hid himself behind his glitter and his spectacles and his luxurious palaces, what Apollo did ultimately affected him. He still cared about what Apollo did in the past, and about what he was doing in the present too. In a way (and this is purely my personal perception, as everything I've written above is) it seemed that, consciously or subconsciously, he was even waiting for some sort of feedback, for a response that Apollo didn't give.

Why else would he insist so much? For what other purpose would he throw back his death in Apollo's face again and again, if not to get a reaction out of him?

I don't actually know how, exactly, it would be possible to fix all these issues, as well as their relationship. I have thought a lot about a scenario where Commodus realizes he's in the wrong, where Apollo manages to bring him to the good side just like he did with Lityerses, and this behaviour of his is exactly the reason why I never figured out how it would happen. How do you help someone who doesn't want to be helped? Apollo tried and failed, didn't he?

Maybe not enough.

It's true that Commodus was a selfish, arrogant man, as it is true that Apollo tried to help him, only giving up on his insistence when the man he loved went down a path of no return. It's also true that he didn't reprimand him for what he did once, trying to get to him through good humour and support, being too permissive when Commodus didn't need permissiveness, but some strength of character from someone he trusted. It's also true that Apollo never apologized.

I don't remember much about TDP and TTT, but didn't Apollo never mention once to Commodus the reasons for what he did? He cried about that day on his own, never with him, never showing Commodus that he has suffered for that murder just as much as he did.

Maybe the apology wouldn't have changed anything, maybe Commodus would've stayed the same ruthless man he's been for the whole series. But I like to think that it could've potentially stirred something inside him anyway.

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

𝑭𝑬𝑹𝑨𝑳 𝑾𝑶𝑴𝑨𝑵 ║ Chapter 8 - The Cicada's Song

| FERAL WOMAN | series masterlist | main masterlist | | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x fem!OC

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 8k | CHAPTER WARNINGS: idk if I'm being overly sensitive bc this chapter was very difficult for me to write, but I just want to put out a heads up for SA/DV victims+survivors to read with care bc it's a very heavy chapter that touches on the emotional+mental work of recovery, which can be super super super draining and upsetting if you get caught off guard by the subject

| CHAPTER SUMMARY: You embrace the new you and are eager to see if a certain someone does the same.

║ＰＲＥＶＩＯＵＳ ║⋄── •✧• ──⋄║ ＮＥＸＴ ║

Please read with caution if you have difficulties with works concerning: SA, physical violence, torture, captivity, trauma, and similar topics as they are discussed throughout the series. All highly sensitive portions WILL BE MARKED with my sensitive material banner if you wish to skip the more challenging portions. The sensitive material banner looks like this:

✧⋄⋆•✧⋄⋄⋆⋅⋆✧•✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆•⋆⋄── •✧• ──⋄⋆•⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧•✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧•⋆⋄ ✧ “…𝚊��𝚍 𝚢𝚎𝚝, 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜, 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙸’𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝙸 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝙸’𝚍 𝚍𝚒𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚕𝚢 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚡𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎.” — Sɪʟᴠɪᴀ Mᴏʀᴇɴᴏ-Gᴀʀᴄɪᴀ ✧⋄⋆•✧⋄⋄⋆⋅⋆✧•✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆•⋆⋄── •✧• ──⋄⋆•⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧•✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧•⋆⋄ ✧

You lay out the simple black and white floral skirt against your neatly made bed. You’re not really sure if it’s your style, but you aren’t even sure you have one, anyway. Jeans and plain tops had been the path of least resistance when you first came to Jackson, and they were certainly the most abundant in offerings at the supply and exchange clothing hub. It was the logical, easy choice, and you hadn’t given clothing much thought at the time or since then.

In fact, you hadn’t done much thinking in general about your outward appearance - not until Joel reworked the branding mark Sam had inflicted upon you. No longer a permanent reminder of your past, the configuration of healing skin on your left hip was a fresh start. The crude but distinguishable rendering of a blooming flower that Joel had beautifully interlaced to the existing scarring was the perfect representation of how you were starting to feel: coming up from the dark, damp earth, spreading your roots to seek out sustenance and nutrients so that you might find a way to break through and sprout into the sunlight.

You have been following every bit of instruction Joel had given you in how to care for it so it would heal appropriately. You were still waiting for it to scab over, and one of the main things to help reduce irritation and prevent infection until it got there was to avoid as much friction as possible. Your underwear and jeans were just about the last things that would help avoid this issue, so it wasn’t too hard of a decision to use a few ration slips for a high waisted skirt with a waistband that was well above the area in question and a cotton dress that had no waistband at all.

Joel had picked up several extra patrol shifts, outside of your usual hours at the station, so you hadn’t seen him in a few days. It felt like years. It was so strange to you how you hadn’t known him very long at all in the scheme of things, but it was hard to think of what it was like before him. He was such a solid presence and support in your life that it felt wrong that he hadn’t been in your life all along.

You suppose in a way he has been a part of your life all along, this new one, anyway. You’d met him just after arriving, and he’d hollowed out a cavern in your chest and settled there pretty much immediately. He didn’t mind the broken bits there, the withdrawn and scared pieces of your inner workings. He’d embraced them and crept into your bones as if it wasn’t repelling to him at all. As if you yourself weren’t some ghastly, unpleasant thing to know.

And now you felt like you carried a piece of him with you wherever you went. A little  memento of him with you at all times. A physical representation of not only the support he’s given you, but all the people in your life now. Helping you grow. Helping you feel safe. Helping you find yourself again. You no longer bear the mark of your gut-churning past. In its place is a blooming world and a blossoming promise of the future. In your mind, there’s nothing more fitting.

You smile, lost in thought at all the beautiful souls who have come together to give you this chance at happiness. You pick out a faded grey t-shirt to go with the black and white skirt. You pull Tommy’s jacket from your closet and set it alongside the rest of your outfit. You feel a peaceful haze settle over you as you look down at your ensemble. You really need to see Tommy and Maria soon. Maybe you’d even work up the nerve sometime to finally hold Gwen.

You make your way to the bathroom and strip down. The water runs hot as you slip inside, careful to keep your left hip as dry as possible until it can scab over completely. You rake some shampoo through your disheveled locks and try to work through some oil and honey combination Susan put together for you. It had worked better than anything else to help condition your hair, but it was still a brittle, unsalvageable mess. You worked it through for several minutes, letting it sit for even longer while you washed your body, and rinsed yourself off.

You sweep your pitiful hair into a towel and carefully dry your skin. You smile yet again down at your hip as you work the drying fabric around your marking. Your cheeks would start hurting soon if you kept it up. You can’t help but think of Joel whenever you look at it, and that alone is enough to make your whole face burst with that happy, goofy expression that was becoming more and more of a staple for you. 

He makes you smile, and there wasn’t much use in trying to fight that.

You finish toweling off and pause when you see the nearly full container of beeswax and goat’s milk emollient that Susan had also prepared. You’d barely touched it except for a few times when she’d asked if it smelled okay and didn’t irritate your skin. Not wanting to hurt her feelings, you made sure to slather it across yourself without much thought just so you could honestly tell her you’d used it.

You still for a short time to focus on your body and how it feels right at this moment. It was a newer development for you, this repaired circuitry and symbiotic understanding between your mind and your body, and you were still getting used to it. All these months later, and you continue to discover new challenges and growing pains. Except it didn’t frighten you so much as it had before. There was an almost giddy anticipation to it now, testing the waters and taking your new self out for a joyride. Cautiously, of course.

You feel the air pull in and balloon your lungs. Your muscles feel loosened from the warm water in the shower. Spots here and there along your skin felt damp where you hadn’t run the towel against it for long enough. Your hips and lower back feel a bit tight, probably from the limited options for sleep positions while your hip was healing. Your legs feel stronger than they ever have. Maybe you even have some actual muscle filling out your frame there? Your right hand is notably stiff but not inflexible as it had been for the past couple of weeks. It was nearly back to normal, just like Joel had assured you it would be.

Your inventory of sensations draws your attention to the fact that your skin feels incredibly dry. It’s even a bit itchy in certain places, like your elbows and legs. You eye the container of white lotion for a moment before unscrewing the lid and scooping some out. Unlike before, you take your time in applying it, paying special attention to the more parched bits of flesh. Your left hand feels firm and smooth as it makes massaging passes along your body. Your right hand isn’t quite as pliable and dexterous, but it feels nice to use the muscles and tendons there anyway.

Your skin greedily drinks up the moisture, and by the time you finish rubbing it in you feel like an invisible, warm covering has enveloped you. It feels nice, and it’s not too overwhelming in the amount of nice it brings. 

You are struck by a sentiment of what you think might just be pride. Proud for giving this to yourself. Proud because you, right here and now, are taking care of your body. Listening to what it needs and then finding a way to give it to yourself. You even have a sense that you are deserving of this in some way. That you deserve to have a body that's looked after and cared for. That you have a right and a responsibility to do so because that is what someone who loves themselves does. 

You deserve nice things. You are capable of treating both your mind and your body with kindness alike. It’s okay to be gracious with yourself and let others care for you in turn.

You glance up and take in your full body in the mirror. Unlike before, you don’t turn away. Your smile is profound and authentic. It reaches your eyes. No longer flat and empty, your eyes hold life and energy in them now. 

Tears start to well up when you look into the mirror and see yourself looking back for the first time in a very long time. You knew you were in there, deep down inside. And there you were, staring back at yourself - and with affection, no less. Finally. Finally.

With newfound interest and desire to see yourself instead of hiding away, you study the woman in the mirror. Your frame has filled out and softened, the harsh lines of starvation fading into supple flesh. You’re not hunched over, although you do straighten to stand a bit taller as you examine your reflection. You almost look like someone who’s confident. You hug your body, not to conceal it from view, but to show it a small gesture of love - something it has been yearning for but denied for so long.

You sniff and laugh a little at the unexpected joy of it all. You nervously giggle a bit when you look at the heap of a towel sliding off your crown. You may have found an appreciation for yourself, but you still don’t like the mess that’s on top of your head. You want to see all of you, though, so you release your hair from the drooping towel and watch as frayed locks tumble over your shoulders. It looks awful. More glaringly, it is a reminder of your past that you are no longer inclined to let hold you back.

You twist a few strands between your fingers and decide right then and there you will pay Maria a visit to see if she can help you out.

The silver glint of the scissors flashes in your periphery. The crisp snip snip snip noises are a comfort and an agitator all the same. The bunches of hair falling to the ground is the final shedding of your past self. You try to sit still while Maria cuts your hair, but the excitement of all this makes you want to leap out of your chair.

“Thanks again for doing this, Maria. You have no idea how much this means to me,” you extol in earnest. “I know there’s people around town that are trained or whatever to cut hair, but Ellie said you’d cut hers once before and–”

“It’s alright. I don’t mind at all,” she replies in that calm, assured tone she always has. “I know sometimes a big change with hair is best done with someone you’re more comfortable with.”

“Yeah,” you agree. “Definitely more comfortable with you holding sharp scissors so close to my face.”

You give a nervous laugh and shift awkwardly in your seat. You hadn’t quite found the balance between keeping conversation light while also not editing every single thought so that it’s more palatable for others. That meant being more open about your past experiences and the impact they’ve had on you, and it still remains a massive undertaking.

“Understandable.” It’s a succinct response, but it holds all the compassion and insight necessary. You appreciate how those you’ve brought some of your walls down for have been considerate of your inept social skills at times.

“That should do it,” she announces with a final cut near your chin. “To the jawline, like you asked.”

You touch the ends, no longer scraggly and brittle, and tuck a piece behind your ear. Your muscle memory overshoots the motion, and you smile at the phantom hair you’d pushed back. It’s so much lighter. You give a small shake of your head to fully appreciate the unfettered movement.

“What do you think?” you entreat. The nervous shake in your voice gives away just how much anticipation you’d built up sitting there while she worked. 

“I want you to see it and tell me what you think first.” She smiles kindly and hands you a mirror.

It was a radical change, and not just in appearance. The way your head turned as you examined yourself in the mirror felt more loose and spry. The blunt cut to just below  your jawline was a stark difference from the limp, lifeless strands that had moments ago shrouded your face and dragged down your entire appearance.

You looked… fresh? Was that the word? You certainly felt it. Renewed? You can’t decide and just settle for happy. You are happy.

“It’s beautiful. It’s … this is more like me, I think. Thanks, Maria,” you chirp quietly. 

“Anytime.” There was that warm smile she always gave you. It made you feel so incredibly grateful for ever being found by her and the rest of the patrol group that day that felt like eons ago. “And, I agree. You look beautiful.”

Your smile wavers when you think of your friend Mae. She would’ve loved it here. She would’ve dragged you to get your hair cut sooner. You would’ve been ready sooner. If she could’ve just stuck it out a little while longer, she could’ve had all of this, too.

Tommy fortunately makes his way through the backdoor and redirects your thoughts. “Whew! Look at that! Looks real nice, sweetheart,” he practically cheers. His toothy grin almost takes up his entire face. “And the ever talented woman behind the transformation, phewwwww.” 

He sidles up next to Maria and gives her an admiring hug and kiss. “This woman, I swear to you, there ain’t a damn thing she can’t do.” 

Tommy beams at you and back to Maria who grins and rolls her eyes. You join in the levity and crack a smile. Tommy and Maria were congenial as individuals, but whenever they were side by side something mystical seemed to happen. It was like they were meant to be near each other, like their pneumas were vitalized by the inevitable spring of belonging to one another. You briefly wonder if anyone has ever seen you and Joel together and thought something similar.

They exchange a quiet conversation about Gwen being upstairs asleep when Tommy asks after his baby girl. He nods at Maria and gives her a cheeky smile before kissing her more fervently. It was a quick thing, but the effusive devotion in it was almost palpable. Tommy left an arm snuggly wrapped around Maria as he turned his attention back to you. He’s got a mischievous look that should probably worry you but only leaves you with a charmed interest.

“New makeover, huh?” Tommy prods. He jerks his head up once, eyeing your skirt. He smiles like there’s some sort of poorly kept secret that more people are privy to than you’d prefer or are even aware of.

“Oh, um, no. I just-I dunno,” you deflect. Hot pinpricks tingle across your cheeks. You fidget with your hands in your lap.

You see Maria ineffectively hide the cautioning elbow into Tommy’s side. He coughs at the precise reprimand and straightens up. “Nah, is’jus ya look real nice, sweetheart. That’s all. Wasn’t sure if it was a spur of a moment type thing or if ya had some other type’a reason to change up your looks to somethin’ more of your choosin’,” he explains quickly so as to not earn another warning from Maria.

“Yeah, I guess I’m finally starting to pay attention to my outsides.” You shrug, unsure if you’ve said too much or too little. Tommy’s expression softens.

“M’sure it’s a good feelin’ to have your insides match your outsides. Always been an angel, but it’s still good to see ya feelin’ comfortable. We’re sure glad to have ya, honey.” His lopsided smile turns more cheeky. “And I know we ain’t the only ones that feel real fortunate to have ya.”

Maria pointedly nudges Tommy and throws a cut it out look his way for good measure. You feel certain he must be talking about Joel. The thought that someone maybe does think of you two as a duo in some way or another sends a possessive feeling through your entire being.

“Not more fortunate than I feel to have him,” you insist. “I mean, to have you all,” you quickly amend. The pinpricks on your cheeks bloom into an all out torrent of heat at your slip-up.

Tommy is grinning like a schoolboy, and you catch Maria’s amused expression before she skillfully waters it down.

“Make yourself useful and sweep the floor, Tommy,” Maria admonishes, but there’s no real weight behind it.

Tommy gives her a peck on her temple before releasing her and leaning towards you. He gives you a quick squeeze on the shoulder and a devilish wink. You bite back a smile. It was so hard to be annoyed with Tommy when he was so puckish and affectionate all at once. You swat his hand away playfully and duck your beaming smile out of view.

You begin helping them clear up the mess in the kitchen and smile softly as you listen to Tommy talk about how Gwen is the most perfect creature he’s ever known. He makes a playful jibe about her full name leaving something to be desired - an obvious move to poke fun at Maria - but it makes you realize you still haven’t been entirely truthful with them. It might have been this new sense of self that gave you the courage, but you found yourself addressing something that you hadn’t made right yet.

“Speaking of names.. I, um, I actually wanted to clear something up with you two.” You go to nervously twist a strand of hair but find it’s no longer there. A reminder that this is the new you, and the new you is upfront about things. “I haven’t been completely honest about everything, and I wanted to fix that.”

Tommy and Maria stand side by side and eye you curiously but remain silent so that you could take your time to speak.

“When I told you my name before, it wasn’t really my name,” you confess. “It’s actually Julia. Is my name. Julia.” You brace yourself for the scolding that you know isn’t coming but you still can’t help but ready yourself for.

Tommy’s mouth is curved ever so slightly up on one side. Maria is sporting  a soft smile. “Well, I’m glad you’ve come around, but we actually figured that out a while ago,” she admits. 

“Oh.” 

You couldn’t think of anything else to say. You feel like the wind has been taken out of your sails a bit at the lackluster reveal. You’d built it up in your head for so long that you weren’t expecting them to already know all about your lie. On top of that, they didn’t seem upset about it.

“Didn’t take very long when Ellie kept correcting me every time I didn’t call you Julia. Figures you’d tell her your name and not us.” Maria scrunches her nose in a teasing expression. It helps ease the tension you feel. You remember now the first time you encountered Ellie and Joel you were in such a panic you’d given your actual name instead of the alias you’d given everyone else.

You could laugh at the serendipity of it all. Joel being one of the first people to know your true name. Joel being the one person who had come to know so much about you. Joel being the singular person you wanted to know every part of you.

“We understand. Really. Our only question is if that’s what you’d like us to call you now?” Maria looks at you expectantly.

“No, I think- I think I like Bug, actually.”

It had been years of being detached from your own name, along with so many other things. Those things - your mind, your body, your actions, your choices, your feelings, your words - had been out of your possession for so long that sometimes it felt like you were just borrowing them before you had to return it all back. Your name hadn’t meant much to you in so long that it barely felt like a part of you.

Susan’s nickname for you, however silly and indulgent it was, meant something to you. You felt it when she referred to you as Bug, and it gave you a sense of belonging that she had “named” you.  When others had followed suit through her influence and referred to you as Bug, it felt right. Your indifference to being called your name - really just the alias you’d given - may have been a subliminal thing that others had picked up on. Maybe that’s why hardly anyone even used it.

Most days Ellie called you Bug. Most days Joel called you every sappy pet name under the sun. Most days others just greeted you with friendly but silent gestures, knowing that you still liked to keep to your bubble.

“Then Bug it is, sweetheart,” Tommy endorses. 

Your grin reaches ear to ear as you help clean up. You try not to rush through helping, but you are even more giddy thinking about your next stop to see Joel. When you’ve finished, you force yourself to bid a leisurely goodbye to Tommy and Maria.

“And Gwen wants to see y’all soon, too. You make sure to tell her Uncle Joel he better show face sometime soon,” Tommy teases on your way down their front steps.

Your chest swells at the casual intimation of you and Joel as a unit. There’s also the unspoken designation of you being the smallest degree of separation to Joel, which would make you the obvious choice to pass a message along to him.

“Okay. I will. He’s just, you know, he’s picked up some extra patrol shifts, so he’s just been a bit busy.” 

You don’t know why you’re explaining this to Tommy as if he isn’t one of the main people responsible for setting patrol schedules. He just smiles and nods. You can’t quite pin the amused expression until you realize you were now casually speaking on Joel’s behalf, offering up an explanation for his absence. As if you had the authority and knowledge to do so. 

It didn’t feel wrong, though. Joel might not even mind it, actually. He might like that you were fielding this teasing from his brother instead of him. You’d have to just find out for yourself when you made it to his house in the next few minutes.

You stare at Joel’s door for a minute or two. Even though it was just a haircut and some new clothes, you felt like a brand new person. It was like you were meeting him for the first time, and you realize you felt nervous about him liking your new look but also… you. This new version of you he was going to meet. The closest thing to the real you.

Sure, facets of you had been emerging in fragments, slowly morphing and bonding into a semblance of cohesion, a semblance of healing. But Joel changing the branding mark Sam had carved into you combined with you now taking overt ownership of your outward presentation in such a drastic way… 

It felt unavoidable. It felt out in the open. You try to not overthink the impact of it all, but it was surely a tectonic shift for those closest to you. How could something that felt so earth-shattering to you not also send shockwaves through those closest to you? The changes were deliberate and purposeful this time. It was sought out rather than a byproduct. 

Would he still like you? Were you turning into someone so different - too different - that he wouldn’t like you anymore? Perhaps you were just building this up too much in your mind?

You raise your hand and give the door three light taps with your knuckles before you could talk yourself into running back home. Your jitters get the best of you, demanding to be channeled somewhere, and you smooth your shirt in multiple quick passes as you wait for an answer. You hear the approach of his heavy steps and stand up straight. 

Your confidence takes a dip when he doesn’t seem to recognize you at first, doing a double take when he opens the door. You worry your bottom lip between your teeth. When he huffs a laugh and sports a big smile, you worry he hates it and is trying to think of something nice to say.

“Is it bad?” Your voice sounds tiny and anxious.

Joel takes a step back in exaggerated mock observation, tilting his head in consideration for dramatic effect. He clucks his tongue against the roof of his mouth before leaning forward again.

“Fuckin’ beautiful,” he replies, shaking his head in genuine awe. Your mouth spreads into a huge grin, lighting up your features.

“You look like you got the sun shinin’ outta your ass,” he chuckles. “Lil radiant spitfire of a thing.”

He nudges you to come inside, and you follow him to the couch where you can feel the warmth of where he had just been sitting. He plops down onto the opposite end, arm slinging over the back,  and rests his head against a fist as he gives you a proper up and down.

“And a skirt, too, huh? Full of all sorts of surprises today.”

You catch the way his eyes skate over your body before zipping back up to your face.

“Oh, yeah. You said anything rubbing against it might mess up the scabbing process, so I just used some ration slips to get something more loose. Figured it made sense.” You shrug and bite down the impulse to ask him if he thinks you look pretty.

“S’nice. You look real nice,” he hums.

You feel like your heart is hammering against your ribcage so hard they might fracture and splinter into your lungs, which already felt aflame. You hadn’t meticulously outlined what you intended to express to Joel when you came over, but you had a loose idea of it. Now you just had to keep the courage to follow through.

“The hair suits you jus’ right,” he thoughtfully decides.

“Hm, think so? It, uh, yeah. Feels so much better, too. No more scraggly ends.” You scoot next to Joel and offer a small strand for him to examine.

He looks thoroughly entertained that you’d include him in the assessment of your hair’s texture, but he indulges you anyway. He gently smooths the strand between his thumb and index finger and shoots you an approving look. 

“It’s very nice, honey. What made ya get the chop?” You readjust a little in your seat when you find it hard to concentrate with Joel’s warm thigh pressing against your leg. It’s even harder to focus when he tucks the strand under his examination behind your ear when he’s done studying it. 

“I, uh, it’s actually because of my… flower marking,” you explain. Joel’s eyebrow lifted in interest. “It was like a switch was flipped or something. Having that gone. You… You helping me with that. Not having to look at it. Look at it in the mirror every day.”

You take a deep breath before sharing the deeper, darker aspects of your thoughts. 

“And now, s-seeing myself when I look in the mirror. Seeing myself looking back instead of somebody… somebody I don’t know,” you finish in a low hush. You hadn’t told Joel much about the reason behind your covered mirrors, although you had a feeling he probably had a decent idea of why you’d find it hard to look yourself in the eye.

You look away from your fidgeting hands and find Joel watching you carefully. Your fidgeting now spreads to your entire body as you squirm under his inspection. “What?”

“Just thinkin’. ‘Bout the first time I met you.”

You shake your head in curiosity, prompting Joel to continue. 

“You were scared. The most scared fuckin’ thing I think I’ve ever seen in my life, and I’ve seen some… Well, anyway. When you looked at me, it was like an animal caught in a trap. Your eyes were.. it was like something- somebody - was stuck behind them. Somethin’ there that couldn’t get out.”

You swallow thickly as you listen to Joel recall your first encounter. You felt worlds away from the person he met that day. You have always been aware of the growth and changes you’ve undergone since coming to Jackson, but it wasn’t until recently that you really considered what your transformation must be like for Joel. 

“I guess I’m tryna say I’m happy. Happy to see you like this. Happy to see you bein’ able to be yourself.”

You nod slowly and look down to reach for his hand before pulling it into both of yours. “I am happy. I feel happy.”

Joel hums in approval at your introspection but seems to notice your jitteriness. He tucks a finger under your chin until you meet his gaze. “Somethin’ else on your mind, honey?”

The chaotic whirlwind in your head slowed your words, but you were hellbent on saying them. “I-I’m happy. And. You. You m-make me happy.”

Joel didn’t pretend to not understand exactly what you meant. His mouth twitched to the side as he eyed you with something you couldn’t decipher. 

“You make me happy, too,” he admits softly.

When he doesn’t say anything more, you realize he might be waiting for you to set the boundaries of this conversation. Your small talk had improved by leaps and bounds, but vocalizing more complex feelings was still difficult. You run tight circles with your fingers along his hand to help center yourself. 

“Do you … like … my hair?” The question comes out in a clumsy heap, practically thudding into the otherwise calm and delicate conversation.

Joel’s eyebrows pinched together as he exhaled a surprised laugh. He clearly wasn’t expecting that, most likely anticipating something more serious. “I do,” he chuckles.

“Good. Because. I wanted you to-to like it.”

Joel’s forehead lifts an eyebrow, but his grin remains firmly planted on his face. 

“You. Specifically. I wanted you to like it. More than anyone else…” You hold his gaze despite the voice in your head screaming at you to look away, down, anywhere but at his eyes softening and melting into you.

“S’that so?” he murmurs. 

You nod once and raise his hand to yours, brushing your lips against his knuckles. “Just you,” you whisper as you place his hand to cup your cheek.

Joel visibly wrestles with something in his mind, but you catch his eyes snapping  to your lips before looking at you again. Before either of you could change your mind and put a stop to the things already in motion, you lift and straddle yourself over his lap and draw him into a tight hug. His wide chest radiates warmth and comfort as he wraps his arms carefully around you.

“Say something,” you mumble into the side of his neck. You feel the heat spreading across your cheeks and the tips of your ears from the quiet. 

Joel curves an arm across snug to your back and cradles the nape of your neck so you’re looking directly at him. 

“Do you… like my hair?” he asks.

You pause for a moment in confusion before catching the playful smirk on his face. You break into a fit of nervous giggles but nod enthusiastically.

“S’good ‘cause I’m not interested in what anyone but you thinks ‘bout it.”

His impish grin steadies your resolve. You brace your palms against his chest and lean in. Your noses meet, and you soak in the feeling of sharing breaths against each other's skin. You nudge his nose against yours, side to side softly and slowly, letting yourself get lost in the simple but exhilarating contact. 

“Honey, we don’t hafta—”

You don’t let him finish. You brush your lips against his surprisingly soft mouth. You run small, grazing passes over his lips until you can hear his breaths start to quicken. 

“I want to. I want this,” you whisper against his mouth before capturing it in a deeper kiss.

Your hands leave the steady expanse of his chest and snake up his neck. You run your tongue along his teeth and grunt in satisfaction when his mouth further parts to let you in. When Joel finally kisses you back in earnest, you grab at fistfuls of hair, dragging him closer and eager to capitalize on his reciprocation.

He takes in everything you give him. Your darting tongue, your croaking moans, your teeth awkwardly clipping against his with the unrestrained vigor in your kiss. Your hands are everywhere on him, pressing and grabbing at every bit you can. You want his hands on you the same way.

“Touch me,” you breathe out before crashing back onto his mouth.

His mouth meets yours in an equally feverish way, but you can feel his reluctance for his touch to do the same. You release your hold on his head and neck to find his hands and splay them possessively on your waist and ass. At your insistence, he proceeds to grope and grasp at your body. It feels better than you ever imagined.

His beard scratches and scrapes against your skin in a delightfully abrasive way. It reminds you of the snow on your bare feet the first time you met. The cold, stinging sensation grounding you in its numbing quality. Except this time everything but you and Joel’s bodies together was numb, as if you were in a pocket of your own urge and want.

There was a fire ablaze in your belly that was tearing through your veins, and each new sensation only made the flames blaze faster and further. It was ripping and destroying everything in its path as though it knew it was meant to be destroyed so that it might be rebuilt.

Your body and mind are sharing in this rapturous exchange with him, and it’s overwhelming in the best of ways. You want more. You want all of it. You want to devour Joel and have him be a part of you and you a part of him. 

You’re aware of the grunts and snarls that are ripping through your chest and throat, but you don’t feel embarrassed. There is a hunger you’ve never known before this, before Joel. Your body and mind working together call upon the roll of your hips to grind against his lap. His hands travel to your hips as though to slow your rapid lurch into physical connection, but you push against his delaying hold and grind faster.

The friction against your heat makes you cry out. You hadn’t realized this is what your body needed. You knew it needed Joel, but you didn’t know it would be like this. Your body is responding of its own accord, and you fight none of it. You let out a deep groan of want when something electrifying starts to build in your lower belly. You draw Joel’s bottom lip between your teeth and work it between them. You suck and pull at his lower lip as a warmth blooms through your lower belly down to the quickly wetting slick between your legs.

A gasp escapes your lips as you pull from the kiss and steady your palms on Joel’s shoulders. His pupils are blown out. His hair is a disheveled mess from your fingers raking through it. His lips glisten with the fervor of your kisses. They’re plump and red from the nipping. You can feel the entirety of Joel’s fully hard erection through the fabric of his jeans as you grind against it. It doesn’t deter you. There’s a sense of temperance with the rough denim separating your bare cunt from his skin. 

You never knew you could feel so much without him even touching you directly. “It’s-oh my god-Joel, it feels so good,” you whine as you pick up the tempo of your swiveling hips. 

You certainly feel turned on, but this isn’t the sort of thing that you could get off to, is it? This was too simple and didn’t involve fingers or anything. It had been so long since you’d felt genuine arousal and sexual pleasure that you were beginning to doubt everything you’d ever known about the topic. You weren’t going to waste your mindpower on any of that right now, though. Right now you’re too busy chasing this immersive, hypnotic thrill that’s taken over you.

“Honey, you’re— nghhh- You gotta-” Joel’s breath hitches with each roll of your hips, and you can tell he’s holding himself back. Words fail him as his head drops back against the couch. He stares at the ceiling with quickly waning resolve.

Seeing him so flummoxed and disarmed sparks something in your brain, and you want to see it flicker and light up again. You experimentally push the grind of your hips into his lap harder at the bottom of each pass, and a pleasant, throaty groan gets stuck in the back of Joel’s mouth.

You’ve never felt this powerful in your life. Joel was someone who terrified you the first time you saw and heard him, and you had seen others much more formidable than yourself shy away from any possible altercation with him. He was a force to reckon with. He was strong and broad and fierce. And yet here you have him under a spell with your words and movements. The notoriously stoic and verbally measured Joel Miller was under your thumb.

Your slick has all but drenched Joel’s lap and thigh where you’ve been riding against him, and you clench around nothing when you feel his cock twitch beneath you. Something primal erupts in you when you feel the way your body commands Joel’s to respond. You grab his hands and shove them under the fabric of your skirt. 

“Oh FUCK,” he exhales when he feels you’re completely bare underneath. His eyes snap to attention where your naked lower half is working him. He haphazardly pushes the skirt behind you so his view is unobstructed. 

“Goddamn, look at that,” he breathes in awe. His hands are gripping your thigh and waist. His thumb dips into your flesh in a kneading motion just alongside the crease of your thigh, near the apex of your legs. The proximity to your pussy draws a gasp and a whimper from you. When he tilts his head back up to look at you, his blissed out, strained expression is the last string of the cord that snaps. Your hips pitifully stutter as your mouth goes agape, a silent scream of overwhelming pleasure.

“Ohhh fuck,” Joel grunts, watching your face contort. You feel his cock jerk and jump against the fabric of his jeans. His face screws up in frenzied bliss. A growing wet sensation joins your own. The broken cry escapes your lips and mixes with a chant of his name as you desperately grab and cling to his neck and collar.

“Baby! – baby, oh my god, Joel–oh my god, FUCK!” You are blabbering, incoherently messaging your shock at how fucking amazing this feels and the complete blindsiding orgasm tearing through you.

“Thassit—there’s my girl–There you go, honey— I got you,” he coaxes in a strained gruff, shifting out of his own pleasure for a moment to cradle your face and be present with you through your own climax.

Your eyes are darting back and forth as they search his, looking for the signal that you are in fact okay and grounded despite this euphoric, somatic feeling that makes your mind and body feel like they’re floating away from you and leaving you as nothing more than a clouded mass of pleasure.

“I’m-I didn’t— I didn’t know,” you stumble, trying to rush to explain yourself for getting carried away.

You had no idea any of that would happen. You had no idea your body would respond like that, that your mind would run right alongside it, beckoning you to take take take from something that felt so foreign but so right.

“Ssshhhh. S’alright. You’re alright. Felt good, right?” His small smile and look of adoration have you melting right back into your sublime state. You nod once, smiling back a little. 

“S’good then. It’s okay to feel good.” He noses the column of your throat. Your satisfied whimper escapes, a sound of surrender and acceptance. 

“Made me feel good, too, darlin’. Hope that’s okay. Was tryna hold off. Didn’t wanna upset you…” 

You pull back to look at him, and it hurts your heart to see the uncertainty in his face. Why should he be seeking your endorsement when you were the one pushing for all of it anyway? If anyone was at fault for anything that happened just now, it was you.

“I like the noises you make,” you blurt out without thinking. Joel erupts into a deep belly laugh at this, tossing his head back against the couch for a moment before meeting your gaze again. His eyes are as lit up as you feel.

“Like the noises you make, too. Made me come in my fuckin’ pants like a goddamn teenager,” he chuckles in a bashful tone.

“I-I thought that’s what had happened, but I wasn’t sure,” you admit with a shy grin.

“Wasn’t expectin’ you to start fuckin’ ridin’ me like that!” he snorts, eyebrow quirking for emphasis. “And goddamn do you look fuckin’ beautiful when you’re gettin’ yourself off. Soundin’ like a damn bobcat in heat for fucks’ sake. How am I supposed to be able’ta ignore that?”

You blush at his description of you. You felt like a wild animal most days, trying to learn to be domesticated, and you weren’t sure how you felt about sounding like one, too. Had you gotten too carried away? You let yourself get lost in the moment. You feel a wash of guilt at your lack of self control and not checking in with Joel even once while you were focused on nothing but how your body felt and how you assumed he was responding.

“Hey. Where’d you go?” Joel’s soft question pulled you from your remorseful thoughts.

“I-I’m so sorry, Joel,” you rush out. You shove your head into his shoulder. You are too ashamed to look him in the eye after all but using him for your own gratification. Yes, he seemed to enjoy it as well, but it never even occurred to you to stop and ask. You suddenly feel a bit nauseous.

“Hey, hey–whoa, wait a minute now. What’s goin’ on? Talk to me, honey,” Joel implores. 

He cups your chin to look up at him. His kind, understanding expression made you feel all the more disappointed with yourself. You didn’t deserve his kindness and understanding when you had been acting like some sort of an aggressor.

“I fucked up, Joel. I’m so sor-sorry,” you say between swift inhales of air that didn’t feel like they were reaching past your windpipe. “Please forgive me. Please. I’m so sorry. I’ll n-never do it again. I’m so sorry. I’m fucking sorry. Please, Joel.”

Your brain short circuits when Joel’s lips crash into yours. His large hands easily span across your shoulder blades as he snatches you up flush against his chest. Despite the rush of contact, his movements against your mouth are slow and thoughtful.

“I want you. I want this.” His words slur against your mouth. A mirror of your own words. A call to the truth: you both want this. You allow yourself to slink into the comfort of his affection and tenderness.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he commands softly. He keeps you pressed against him and draws his lips against your hands and knuckles as he watches you intently.

“I... I feel like I took from you,” you try to explain.

“Like I told you before, whatever you want from me is yours,” he replies firmly. 

“I didn’t even ask… I just started feeling things, and then I–”

“Don’t have to. Already told you anything you want from me is yours to take.”

You lean into a soft kiss again. Something about it feels like it helps you think better while forgetting practically everything all at once.

“What’d I tell you about learnin’ to trust your instincts? And blockin’ out those other voices?” he mumbles against your mouth.

You rest your eyes for a moment and breathe. You focus on the warmth of Joel’s hands passing over your sides and back.

“What’s your heart tellin’ you right now?” he asks gently. “Show me what your instincts are tellin’ you.”

“Just, whatever I’m feeling?” you ask. You hear the grunt of affirmation from Joel and keep your eyes closed so you can block out some of the sensory input flooding you. Without dwelling on a single thought for too long, your body relaxes into his hold.

“Okay. I-I like the way your hands are warm. On me. On my skin. I want to.. I want you to put them on my skin. On my back.”

Joel’s hands slide under the hem of your shirt and run small paths across your bare skin. You take a deep inhale and slip into the pleasant feeling.

“How’s that?” he asks quietly. You nod and let out a contented hum of approval.

“I like it, too. Feel so soft, honey. So perfect. Love how you feel,” he praises.

“You feel so good to me, too. I think that’s why I just– And I feel .. weird .. confused about …. Confused about what came over me. And. I didn’t know it was going to happen like that. And that I was going to feel so good. And I didn’t feel nervous at all. But then I didn’t ask you if it was okay. I just.. took what I wanted. I felt so in control that I just- I don’t even know. I couldn’t even think about anything but how you make me feel. And then on my hips. You were holding them. Trying to slow me down. And I ignored it. I just moved faster.” Your words and feelings are coming at a mile a minute.

“Slowed you down ‘cause I didn’t want you to rush into somethin’ just because you thought I might want it. Wanted you to want it. Don’t want you doin’ anything with me or for me unless you want to.”

“Oh.”

Joel chuckles a little and adjusts you in his lap to cuddle against his chest. His palms are cupping along your bare back in a sedating pattern. It makes it hard to pull your eyes open, but you manage somehow.

“This is- We’re gonna have to go slow, darlin’. Alright? Not ‘cause I don’t want ya. We just need to have a clear line of talk. No surprises. Clear expectations and boundaries. You understand?” Joel eyes you with a stern tenderness.

“Yes. Slow,” you concede.

Before Joel can explain just how slow he wants to go, you draw him into another kiss.

The title for this chapter is inspired by the poem Cicada by Hosho McCreesh: "Cicada

Sick of his own face, Sick of his skin, of the dark, He crawls outside himself To sing—

A better poet than most." I feel like it sums up that moment in recovery/healing where you are finally ready to emerge from the black hole in yourself and get back into the world.

This chapter was incredibly difficult for me to write. I cannot stress that enough lmao. I hope that it is cohesive and makes sense bc going back to edit it was quite the challenge. Legit crying and/or on the verge of tears nonstop while writing and editing this. Idk what else to say. Take care of yourselves! Much love. &lt;3

catch ya later, ♥Puddles♥

[usafphantom2]

AC-130 Gunship’s Laser Weapon Cancelled, 105mm Howitzer May Be Removed

The AC-130J was set to get the first operational airborne laser weapon, but that plan is over as the gunship changes to ensure its relevance.

Joseph TrevithickPUBLISHED Mar 19, 2024 1:56 PM EDT

The US Air Force no longer plans to flight test a laser directed energy weapon on an AC-130J Ghostrider gunship.

USAF

The U.S. Air Force has scrapped plans to flight test an AC-130J Ghostrider gunship armed with a laser directed energy weapon after years of delays. The Airborne High Energy Laser program for the AC-130J had for a time looked set to become the U.S. military's first operational aerial laser directed weapon. This all also comes amid a review of the AC-130J's current and future planned capabilities, which could see the gunships lose their 105mm howitzers, as part of a broader shift away from counter-insurgency operations to planning for a high-end fight.

Air Force Special Operations Command (AFSOC) confirmed that there are no longer plans to test the prototype Airborne High Energy Laser (AHEL) system on an AC-130J and provided other details about the current state of the program to The War Zone earlier today.

"After accomplishing significant end-to-end high power operation in an open-air ground test, the AHEL solid state laser system experienced technical challenges," an AFSOC spokesperson said in a statement. "These challenges delayed integration onto [the] designated AC-130J Block 20 aircraft past the available integration and flight test window."

One past US Air Force rendering of an AC-130 with a laser directed energy weapon. USAF

The original hope was flight testing of an AC-130J with the AHEL system would take place sometime in the 2021 Fiscal Year, but this schedule was repeatedly pushed back. In November 2023, AFSOC told The War Zone that a laser-armed Ghostrider was set to take to the skies in January of this year, something that clearly did not occur.

Lockheed Martin received the initial contract in 2019 to supply the AHEL's laser source for the system and lead the effort to integrate the system onto an AC-130J. The complete AHEL system also includes a beam director and other components.

A now-dated US Special Operations Command briefing slide discussing the AHEL program and the components of the weapon system itself. SOCOM

"As a result, the program was re-focused on ground testing to improve operations and reliability to posture for a successful hand off for use by other agencies," the statement added.

This is all further confirmed by the Pentagon's 2025 Fiscal Year budget request, which was rolled out last week, and does not ask for any new funding for AHEL. Official budget documents say this is because the program is expected to close out in the 2024 Fiscal Year.

What "other agencies" might now be in line to benefit from the AHEL program's work and the exact status of the 60-kilowatt class laser directed energy weapon system developed under the program are unclear. AFSOC directed further questions to U.S. Special Operations Command, which The War Zone has now reached out to for more information.

The U.S. Navy's Naval Surface Warfare Center Dahlgren Division (NSWC Dahlgren) had already been deeply involved in the AHEL program. The Navy has been very active in the development and fielding of various types of shipboard directed energy weapons, including another 60-kilowatt class laser directed energy weapon called the High-Energy Laser with Integrated Optical Dazzler and Surveillance, or HELIOS. Lockheed Martin is also the prime contractor for that system.

The US Navy's Arleigh Burke class destroyer USS Preble pierside in San Diego in July 2022. The ship's HELIOS directed energy weapon system can be seen on a platform immediately in front of the main superstructure. USN

The U.S. Army and U.S. Marine Corps have also been working to develop and field different types of air and ground-based directed energy weapons.

The Air Force has been working on at least one other aerial laser directed energy weapon in recent years, under the Air Force Research Laboratory's (AFRL) Self-protect High Energy Laser Demonstrator (SHiELD) program. The SHiELD effort was centered around a podded system for tactical jets ostensibly intended to help defend against incoming missiles, though it would have the ability to engage other target sets. In the past, the stated goal was to begin flight testing of the SHiELD pod in 2025, but its current status is unclear.

A rendering of a US Air Force F-16C Viper fighter with a podded laser directed energy weapon. Lockheed Martin

The Air Force is pursuing other directed energy weapon programs, including for base defense use on the ground. Additional work is understood to be going on in the classified realm, including efforts tied to the larger Next-Generation Air Dominance (NGAD) initiative.

For the Air Force's current fleet of 30 AC-130Js, the end of the AHEL program comes amid larger questions about the future of Ghostrider's armament package and other current and future capabilities. There are growing signs that the Ghostriders are set to lose their 105mm howitzers as part of this reassessment of the aircraft's capabilities.

"Initiate engineering analysis and development to remove the aft weapon system (105mm Gun), refit the aft section, and optimize crew workload in support of the United States Special Operations Command (USSOCOM) crew reduction initiatives," is the plan for the AC-130Js in the 2024 Fiscal Year, according to the Pentagon's latest budget request. The War Zone has reached out to AFSOC for further clarification.

The Air Force originally planned not to include a 105mm howitzer in the armament package for the AC-130J, which was originally focused more on the employment of precision-guided missiles and bombs than guns at all. The service subsequently changed course and had more recently been in the process of integrating improved howitzers onto the Ghostriders. That work came to a halt last year after the start of the capability review. As of last November, only 17 of the 30 AC-130Js had gotten this upgrade.

AFSOC has been taking this new look at the Ghostrider's current and future planned capabilities in large part due to discussions about how AC-130Js might contribute to future high-end conflicts, especially one in the Pacific against China. AC-130Js, which are today primarily tasked with providing very close support to special operations forces on the ground, currently operate almost exclusively in permissive and semi-permissive environments and at night.

AHEL has been presented in the past as being ideally suited to supporting lower-intensity counter-insurgency-type missions.

"Without the slightest bang, whoosh, thump, explosion, or even aircraft engine hum, four key targets [an electrical transformer, the engine of a pick-up truck, communication equipment, and a parked drone,] are permanently disabled," now-retired Lt. Gen. Brad Webb, then head of AFSOC, said in a 2017 interview with National Defense magazine, describing a notional mission for a laser-armed AC-130. "The enemy has no communications, no escape vehicle, no electrical power, and no retaliatory intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance capability. Minutes later, the team emerges from the compound, terrorist mastermind in hand. A successful raid."

In line with all this, the Air Force is also looking to add a new active electronically-scanned array (AESA) radar to these gunships, "allowing the platform to detect, target, identify, and engage across a spectrum of threats at longer ranges and react with greater precision," according to Pentagon budget documents. You can read more about the benefits of adding an AESA to the AC-130J here.

Other specialized C-130 variants belonging to AFSOC have been heavily involved in the testing of a palletized weapon system called Rapid Dragon. Rapid Dragon offers a way to readily transform existing cargo aircraft into launch platforms for AGM-158 Joint Air-to-Surface Standoff Missile (JASSM) cruise missiles and other stand-off munitions. SOCOM has previously expressed interest in the past in integrating precision-guided munitions with longer reach onto the AC-130, in part to help keep those aircraft away from increasingly capable enemy air defenses. A return to a focus on precision-guided munition employment when it comes to the Ghostriders could be important for ensuring their continued operational relevance.

Altogether, the exact mix of capabilities found on the AC-130Js looks set to significantly evolve in the near term. However, a laser directed energy weapon is no longer on the horizon for the Ghostriders.

Howard Altman contributed to this story.

Contact the author: joe@twz.com

@warzonewire via X

[theemporium]

Hi hi! Could I request something with 38 from the smut list with Steve?

thank you for the request! hope you enjoy, love! i got lazy on editing so lets just hope there is no major mistakes🤡

38. “as beautiful as you look, all i want to do is rip that dress off right now.”

.

Senior prom was something everyone looked forward to in their last year of high school. 

The hype surrounding the event in the weeks approaching, ballots and votes going out for prom king and queen, tickets being bought and outrageous promposals being thrown right, left and centre. 

It was hard to avoid. It was hard to miss. And there was no doubt in every student’s mind that prom was the one event nobody could miss. It was practically social suicide to miss senior prom, everybody and their gran knew that. 

And yet here you were, nails digging into the leather seats of the stretch limo because your boyfriend was so damn insatiable he didn’t care about senior prom or anything else for that matter. 

He hadn’t cared the moment you opened the door, bright eyes and adoring smile, standing in the doorway looking like a goddess in your prom dress. Despite how many times he annoyed you about it, you wouldn’t tell him anything about your dress except the colour so he could buy a matching tie.

And now, Steve was almost resentful because if he knew how damn good you were going to look, he would have skipped prom in the first place. 

But you took his hand, made some comment about his theatrical need for a limo and Steve was rendered so speechless that he didn’t even fight you as you pulled him into the backseat with you. Hell, it took him a solid few minutes to get his bearings about him before he could even utter a full sentence at how beautiful you looked. 

Steve had lasted about a solid thirty minutes in the decorated gym before the lingering touches and wandering hands became too much for either of you. 

He had no issues dragging you on the squeaky dance floor, pushing through the throng of dressed up students and towards the school exit. 

Steve pushed you towards the door of the limo, making his way to the driver’s seat to whisper something to the suited man before he wandered off, no doubt around fifty bucks wealthier, before he followed you into the back of the limo. 

“Steve—”

He was on you before you could even finish your sentence, his hands holding your face and his lips on yours. He made you breathless and warm and god, Steve Harrington was addictive. 

“You look absolutely gorgeous, baby,” his whispered words felt ticklish against your inner thighs. “So pretty, like a fucking angel.” 

“Shit,” you breathed out, head falling back against the headrest. You couldn’t even bring yourself to care about your hair, the pins digging into the back of your head but it didn’t even matter. Nothing but the boy kneeling between your legs mattered. 

Steve pushed the dress further up your legs, the tight material bunching just below your panties. “And this dress, sweetheart,” he let out a low groan, pressing a kiss just above your knee. “As beautiful as you look, all I want to do is rip that dress off right now.”

You shot him a look. “You rip this dress and you’re paying for it, Harrington.” 

“I’ll buy you every fucking dress you want,” Steve retorted, not even ashamed of his own cockiness as his hands slid up the sides of your legs and pulled your panties down with them. “Anything that makes you happy.” 

Your fingers glided through his hair, the action causing his eyes to flutter. “You make me happy, Stevie.” 

“Such a sweet talker,” he muttered before dipping his head back down between your thighs, guiding your legs over his shoulder and giving them a loving squeeze. 

Suddenly, everything about prom seemed useless. Who cared about dressing up and dancing all night in uncomfortable shoes? Who cared about dates and promposals and spending the night drinking spiked with someone you aren’t even sure you like? Who cared about any of it? 

Because honestly, you couldn’t give a damn about any of the big prom milestones people spend years after high school talking about. You didn’t care because you could look back on your senior prom night and smile with pride saying you spent the night having your boyfriend eat you out in the back of a limo. 

“Love the noises you make,” he groaned against your cunt, his nose nudging your swollen clit and his hands reaching out to keep your hips pinned to the seat as you squirmed beneath him. “Always so responsive.” 

“You make me feel good,” you whined out, heels digging slightly into his back but he didn’t seem bothered. If anything, it only goaded him further. 

His tongue lapped you up, running along your slit and teasing your clit just to hear the choked out noise you made when his lips wrapped around the nub. He placed sloppy kisses up and down your cunt, groaning at the shameless wet noises that echoed through the limo. 

His fingers dug into the meat of your thighs when he felt you tensing beneath him, his tongue working against you as you felt your first orgasm of the night wash over you. And when he placed a kiss over your sensitive clit, your body shaking beneath him, he knew one wouldn’t be enough. 

Steve Harrington was insatiable when it came to you, and he would be damned if he didn’t ravish you on a bed for the rest of the night. 

“Where are you going?” you called out, slumped back against the seats, voice breathy and a little whiny as Steve pressed a chaste kiss to your thigh before making his way towards the door, hand adjusting the growing tent in his trousers. 

“Gonna get the driver to take us home,” Steve said, not a care in the world that his lips and chin were glistening. “Told you I wanted to rip that dress off you, baby.” 

.

[twistedtummies2]

Sing a Yo-Ho! I’ll slaughter the swine!

Yo-Ho! Must be Fate’s design!

At last our tales will again intertwine!

Revenge, REVENGE, REVENGE is Gonna Be Mine!

Oh, it’s gonna be! Oh, it’s gonna be!

Oh, it’s gonna be mine!

Oh, it’s gonna be! Oh, it’s gonna be!

Oh, it’s gonna be MINE!

“Revenge is Gonna Be Mine,” Colin O’Donoghue

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

Initially I planned for today’s entry to be a different image, but it’s actually not finished yet: due to personal issues, the artist is taking a bit longer to complete the picture than expected. That image will be posted once it is ready, but in the meantime…here’s James Killian, posed with his inspiration, Captain Hook from “Peter Pan!”

The legendary “Shy Art Anon” did the artwork for this one. Funny enough, this was actually the first of the five images for the series to be completed, and it helped to serve as a template for the rest of the artists to use when working on their own images. I can hardly think of a better example: SAA made the official ref pic for James, so I knew they could handle him well, but I’m especially impressed with their rendering of Hook, as well as that ethereal background. As always, a stellar piece of work!

Just like our previous subject, Elias, James was actually one of the first OCs I properly wanted to make…which is ironic, since he’s the last of the five I’m featuring here in this series to make a proper written appearance, and I haven’t even done his Chapter Story yet. The reason I wanted to make James early on had nothing to do with kinks, and simply everything to do with the fact I love Disney Villains: much like the Phantom Blot, Hook has been referenced a few times in the game, and paid homage to, but there is no actual, solid, properly analogous Captain Hook CHARACTER. I honestly consider this not only surprising, but almost akin to blasphemy, as Hook is one of the most prominent of all the Disney Villains, as well as a personal major favorite of mine. So, from very early on, I felt the only thing to do was create my own version of the character.

Like Hook, James is flamboyant, theatrical, and LOUD. He’s very vain and full of himself, and has a sort of old-fashioned quality to his speech at times, calling homage to Hook’s many “hook-isms.” The most important thing I took from the Captain, however, was the way James’ ego works: Hook is an arrogant character, make no mistake, but a big part of who he is comes from how pathetic he is at the same time. Hook doesn’t just hate Peter because he cut off his hand and fed it to the crocodile: he hates Peter Pan because Pan represents everything Hook will never be, and because just about every move Peter makes emasculates and humiliates the Captain, often without Peter even really trying. Something one will note, if they watch Disney’s Hook in things where Peter is not involved, is he can actually be a genuine threat and is able to keep his cool much more easily. But once Peter is involved, Hook goes flying off the handle, and is quickly made a fool of in the process.

With James, I decided to take this idea and transform into the idea that my boi - much like Nakoda - has a very fragile sort of ego. James deliberately makes a spectacle of himself, behaving in an over-the-top manner, because he’s someone who’s always lived in the shadows of others, and has never felt fully respected or appreciated. Underneath that melodramatic demeanor, he’s actually very sad and hurt, as well as very fickle, in some ways. James can be a good sort when he wants to be, but when you put certain temptations in his path, he simply can’t be trusted, and will easily become obsessive.

This also, incidentally, applies to kinks: unlike Captain Hook, who is downright TERRIFIED of being eaten by the Crocodile or the Octopus, James is a bit more…conflicted. On the one hand, he doesn’t REALLY want to DIE…but on the other hand, the idea of himself becoming part of something “greater” than he is ends up being surprisingly irresistible. Seeing beings tower over him and getting the sensation of them lording things over him can be embarrassing, but it also makes his pulses jump. He’s both scared AND “excited” by the sensation, much in the same way I am (and my Prefect character is), although I should say James is typically much less willing. Beyond kinks, though, it’s this sort of backwards, conflicted, broken ego that informs much of who James is: he loves himself, yet he also hates himself, and that kind of mentality will always cause problems for others who get caught in the crossfire.

One last note: you’ll notice the song of choice I used for this description and the image title? While he has yet to appear in a story or art piece properly, rest assured: James does have his very own “Pan” that he loathes with all his soul, and is a major reason for why he is the way he is. His name is Matthew Satyr, and if you bring up his name around James…prepare to get an earful.

[jonahfagnus]

Jon re-ends the world. Destroys most of it, really, after he consumes the entities/becomes them/Becomes. Then he rebuilds. He intends to make the people he cares for happy, which includes himself, so he does not bring Peter Lukas back. Martin's mother does not get sick, and she is good enough. Mary Keay unexpectedly dies during the birth of her son, and Eric Delano raises him. Michael Shelley and Helen Richardson remain themselves, untwisted. He makes many changes, but mostly keeps things the same.

As for himself, he creates a hidden place. Hidden from ordinary eyes, anyways; he can See everything now.

This place he creates is a field, and a forest, with a river in it. It's nice. He relaxes, Knowing nothing will sneak up on him, Knowing nothing unexpected will ever happen again. He Knows everything, and everything is as it should be.

Well.

There is one problem, he thinks, curled up on his 'bed', a mostly flat area of the cave he deigns as his home, covered in created furs and blankets and long scrawls of paper that he summons when he sleeps and cannot suppress the instinct to write down everything.

He has no anchors. This has rendered him some sort of beast-thing, solid to the touch but rendered out of infinitely dark ink, all fur, antlers, strong paws and sharp claws and fangs, and Eyes like storms and fires and death and webs, on him and around him. One night (one of the 3.675 hours of sleep he has gotten since he reincarnated himself), he was startled awake by a sudden sound, and had opened every Eye he had, giving himself a painful migraine for what was just a branch falling from a tree during high winds.

There are very few solutions to this problem. Martin is not the Martin he knew, and besides he does not want to drag him into this. Nobody on this Earth has been touched by the Fears, and if he can help it, nobody ever will be. Passive fear of being watched and spiders and death is more than enough for him. He would love a statement, but nobody alive remembers enough to give him one.

Of course, there is always Jonah.

Jon has Known since he began reshaping the world that Jonah would not be bested by his efforts to remove the memories of the apocalypse. Besides, he much prefers a world without Jonah in it (and when the parts of himself that are very firmly Beholding and Archives tell him this is a Lie, he vehemently refuses it.)

Although, for all he'd done to Jon, he also Knows that Jonah would be the only one who could truly understand him.

Those are his second and third problems with finding someone he used to know and asking them to help him. They would never understand; and they would not be Jonah. They wouldn't be the Pupil, the Heart - arguably Jon's Heart now that he's also the Eye. That thought in particular both calms him and furthers the storm in his mind.

He Knows he needs an anchor, much as he tries to deny it. He doesn't know how to handle this much power, and every day he grows more unstable, his internal Archive growing disorganised and himself unstable. Jonah - even if Jon only talks to him once, to gain this information, even if Jon kills him again after - Jonah is the only one who can tell him. Jonah made him, even if he didn't make him this. Jonah is the only one.

Ultimately he/the Eye/the Archive lasts a month and a half without him.

On the edges of the forest he situates a cabin. He doesn't care about how there is electricity or running water or heating; he orders it to be so, and it is.

Then he presses into his/the Eye's memory and Looks for Jonah. Every single scrap he can find, coalescing it into a concept, and turning this concept into a mindscape, and he/the Flesh creates a body for this mindscape, and he puts the concept/mindscape/body/Jonah in the living room, lying on the sofa, and he waits. Observes.

Jonah (and it is Jonah, Jon made sure to give him his original body) is asleep, at first. This is fine. Jon can tell the body he/the Flesh made is alive. Heart beats. Breathing, rhythmic, calm. Muscle twitch, reflexive. Neuron fires once, twice, millions, as the concept/mindscape/Jonah settles into his new body, becomes familiar. Chemical flickers, transports. Anxious, confused, groggy. Awake. Hands, arms, tense, sitting up. Jonah blinks, and rubs his eyes, and says "Jon?"

Jon doesn't stop Looking, because he doesn't see a reason to, but he stands and begins to make his way towards the cottage before remembering that he can simply Lie to the world, tell it he is already there, and make that True. He stands on his hind legs, uncomfortable, pushes open the front door, pun in that.

Jonah startles. Confused, curious at his Archive's new form, anxious, did he die, did Jon kill him?

"Yes." Jon says from a tape recorder on the table. There is no point clarifying Jonah's question; they both Know.

Jonah attempts to push into his mind. Jon stops him, effortless. He does not explain that there is far too much information for him to handle, far too much information for Jon, does not explain that he needs Jonah's help. Jonah doesn't ask. Jon approaches him.

Chemical fire. Sympathetic nervous system activates, fight or flight, as Jonah notices Jon's teeth. Jon smiles, although it mostly looks like he/the Hunt is baring his teeth, ready for a fight. Muscles tense. Heartrate increases. Breathing speeds up. Jon does not stop approaching. Jonah does not ask him to; he wants to, Jon Knows this without even trying, but he does not.

Jon climbs onto the sofa and carefully places his head on Jonah's lap. Mostly soft fabric against his cheek. The Heart blinks a little, surprise, confusion. Chemical response; endorphin release, feels like fondness. Likens Jon to a cat. Jon laughs; Jonah is "privately" amused. Jonah moves his hand down to pet him.

The moment they make skin on skin contact Jon's mind goes completely silent. He doesn't know how Jonah's done that, and isn't sure he needs to right now.

"Oh," he says, from the tape recorder still. And then "oh," again, quieter, now that he has the space to feel relief, feel the migraine he didn't realise he had fading.

There is no more rapid information intake, no more constant attempts to discard useless information and primarily failing due to his purpose/existence as the Archive/the Beholding. Jon does not Notice the way he begins purring, the way his tail begins flicking in a happy way, the way Jonah is even more fond of him for all of these things. He observes them, independent from his nature as the Archive, and catalogues them easily. He sighs, relaxes. Jonah kisses him on the forehead and it's so soft, so affectionate, that Jon doesn't even notice that that's what he did, simply cataloguing it away with everything else until a couple seconds after the fact. He frowns, a little.

"You need to relax, Jon. It's okay. You've done very well for us."

It is so nice to be told that. Jon whines in the back of his throat. Something feels painful. His stomach? He briefly checks but no, his body is fine. Jonah laughs, and wipes away Jon's unnoticed tears, not necessarily joy or sadness, just emotion. Then, almost polite in the way he sticks to the edges of Jon's frayed and tired mind/Archive, informs him that his tears look like streams of stars.

Jon shifts so that he can bury his face into Jonah's chest. He catalogues it all; the way the fabric feels against his face, the way that Jonah smells, the way his hands run through Jon's fur, the way Jonah smiles, the way that Jonah presses their foreheads together so that he can give full clarity to the Knowledge that Jonah is so, so proud of him. Jon sobs.

"I killed you," he whispers. His voice is hoarse with tears and static.

"I know." Jonah says, and there is fear in that, and Jon takes it without really thinking. Jonah seems happy about it, though. "But you brought me back."

"I-" Jon doesn't want to admit it. He really doesn't. Jonah doesn't make him say it, either, doesn't Look in Jon's internal Archive for it. He just waits. "I needed you."

"Why?" Jonah says, quiet and gentle. It's not cruel, not asked to push Jon, and it soothes Jon's tears. Jonah genuinely doesn't understand why Jon would need him, now that Jon is Truly all powerful. It is a rare moment, and Jon takes a moment to Archive it properly.

"You're the only one who understands me. The-" Jon takes a deep breath, not wanting to start crying again. "Nobody I knew, before, would've wanted me, like this. But, you…"

Jonah doesn't say anything. He just keeps petting Jon, and it is quiet, a cool balm to his exhausted mind after the storm that was Knowing everything. Jon closes his eyes, and his Eyes, and finally, finally falls asleep.

(When Jon wakes up, he is in bed. He opens some Eyes and finds Jonah in the kitchen, making breakfast, humming a song Jon could identify but doesn't. When he checks his Archives for any pertinent information from his dreams, he instead finds some well filed Information, detailing how, exactly, he should get used to Seeing everything, and some hypotheses on how, if he intends to, to return to his human form.

"Thank you." he says from a tape recorder spawned onto the kitchen side. Jonah smiles.

"I love you too, Jon," all gentle and fond. Jon doesn't bother examining what it means that Jonah has responded with that, as though there's any need, as though they don't both already Know, as though Jon won't keep ignoring it and Jonah won't keep making him confront it. He just closes his Eyes and goes back to sleep.)