#will make up for it finally

[cronchy-baguette]

I promise

[delsinsfire]

forgive and forget? wrong. charged two-handed heavy attack with my greatsword of resentment

[gibbearish]

love when ppl defend the aggressive monetization of the internet with "what, do you just expect it to be free and them not make a profit???" like. yeah that would be really nice actually i would love that:)! thanks for asking

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

historical drama/sitcom where two gay best friends (woman and man) get lavender married--and proceed to spend the Fancy European Honeymoon their parents paid for acting as each other's wingman

[msparrowscribbles]

Scar's bringing such an energy to this season, huh

(this is my first attempt posting something in this very sketchy style asdgjsafs we'll see how I feel about it - designs are inspired by aresonist's lovely designs)

[clumsypuppy]

abogagos……..

[noodles-and-tea]

Last part whoo!!!

PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 / PART 4

[hinamie]

mentor

[scootkiddo]

it’s so much worse. the way ellie tells joel to get up and he tries. the way abby seeps the pointed end of the club into his neck. the way the wlf members don’t even bother knocking ellie out because she is already so emotionally paralyzed by grief she can’t even so much as stand.

but more than anything else it’s crawling to him. all she can muster is crawling with nothing but her arms and cuddling into joel with her whole person. her face buried into the man’s which will forever be the last memory of him. it’s like watching a child seeking the safety of a parent who can’t protect them anymore. this isn’t just the death of a protector. it’s the death of home. joel, to ellie, is safety. safety that she spent the last five years resenting until it was too late. he’s been the one constant in a shattered world. so when he’s dying — or dead — she reverts, not in age but in emotional rawness. she becomes a daughter clinging to a father figure who can’t shield her anymore. and it’s not just fear. it’s complete unmooring. there’s no one left to hold the world up for her. it’s the kind of need that children have when everything feels too big, too loud, too dangerous. she needs to be held. but there’s no one to hold her, so she becomes the one doing the holding, even if he can’t respond. and he’ll never respond.

in one of ellie’s most harrowing moments in life joel was there to cling on to her. in yet another, she clings to him. but he’ll never cling back again.

[isjasz]

Stellar death

[akanemnon]

Yeah, that checks out.

FIRST - PREVIOUS - NEXT

MASTERPOST (for the full series / FAQ / reference sheets)

[zubzooks]

bright one

[shotmrmiller]

sex pollen trope where you're the one affected, having been exposed to some dense gas while on an op that felt like harsh sandpaper across your throat and lungs, and now you're a feverish mess on some ratty cot in a safe house and with only ghost as company, it's miserable, as the saying goes.

hair sticking to your sweaty skin, plastered onto your forehead and neck, every swallow feeling like you've got a mouthful of sand, your fluttering pulse wild and deafening in your ears, and the throbbing ache deep in your core, the blistering heat right below your navel— it'd only been uncomfortable in the beginning, the faint throbbing incredibly familiar, but the more you ignored it, the worse it got.

and now you're here, with arousal sticking your underwear to your pussy, unable to do anything about it because your lieutenant is seated in a corner that lets him have both you and the front door within his line of sight. a quick, discreet rub under your clothes is not an option.

someone put you out of your foggy misery.

"squirmin' like a worm on a 'ook isn't gonna help." his staring doesn't either, yet he does it anyway.

"got to make sure ya aren't dyin' on me." you want to snap that you don't think proof of life is on the darkened stain between your legs, the retort pressed behind clenched teeth but another thick wave of bestial need rolls over you and god, you're about to shove your hand into your underwear, propriety be damned—

"best you don't do tha'." why the fuck not? "you'll only get relief for a moment 'fore it comes back twofold." he says as if he's reading off the morning paper and not watching you fight tooth and nail to not fuck yourself against the pillow your head is on. (soap's offer to be friends with benefits is only looking better by the hour.)

you hastily decide that it'll be better than nothing. you'll just have to rub your pussy raw until this drug runs its course and you're telling him to piss off or don't, but you've had enough. you're stuck here with him anyway, no flight home until the morn and you're not about to spend it writhing around.

"if tha's wha' you want," ghost bites his gloves off, spitting them out onto the ground before curling his hands around your ankles and dragging you toward him. "i will help." your entire world narrows down to the feel of him touching your skin, his fingers searing as they hook into the waistband of your pants, and you almost kick him in the mouth trying to get them off faster.

"but 'm not fuckin' you." the bite of disappointment is quickly forgotten, his breath warm against your slick pussy, and after three quick glides of his tongue over your pearl, your orgasm crests, pulse after pulse of pleasure so potent it stung.

in less than a minute you're burning again, need thrumming through you and with the heady push and drag of his middle finger over your sensitive nerves, curling in you until he can fit two, three—

you're lost.

(ghost telling you that he's not doing anything else because if he's going to fuck you then you're going to remember it falls on ringing ears.)

[chaobunnyarts]

Some job fusions for my oc's + Rielle.

[rocketbirdie]

so close yet so far