#<- blew me to smithereens

[firstroseofspring]

lenara khan's gorgeous earring choices you will always be famous

[wishchip106]

meow

yeah 😼

[trips2saturn]

WAS ANYONE ELSE CREEPED OUT BY THAT ENTIRE SCENE OF THE CHILDREN WHO WERE GOING TO BE APART OF THE CRMS EVACUATION PROCEDURE BECAUSE I WAS HORRIFIED.

[tasteofyourblood]

we got a small look into hearteyes jason sudeikis acting this week and i already know i am Not Ready for when it becomes full blown hearteyes jason sudeikis acting, it is going to kill me

[miscreantahead]

found/listening to the zoscar supercut and squinting like "was this ship always so real from the very first interaction and i just didn't notice or am i wearing the shipping goggles now so it just seems that way"

[k9wa]

𑣲 RILE HIM UP ! ft BOOTHILL.

⠀ — your least favourite cyborg is brought back to you a mangled mess.

⠀ OR

⠀ — being boothill’s mechanic when you lowkey can’t stand each other.

⚠︎ sweet sweet tension, a little suggestive towards the end, gn reader (no referring pronouns), can they fuck already, this was ib by his lightcone, wc 1.9k

boothill's eyes flickered to life, emitting a faint glow of red as his systems began to reboot.

a pair of familiar red pupils met yours, two crosshairs fading into sight as boothill regained his sight and— to your dismay— consciousness.

as the cyborg regained his motion he attempted a step forward, only to realise he didn’t have the feet or legs to do so. the only thing keeping him powered on were some metal claws screwed into his back and a few loose cables connecting to your terminals.

“sugar plum,” boothill's scruffy voice cut through the silence. “do y'care to explain where my legs might’a run off to?”

you actually cocked an eyebrow. how the hell were you supposed to know? boothill was brought back to you in a mess of scraps and wiring— the damn hunk of metal was lucky you made him as blast proof as possible and he was left salvageable. 

“care to tell me how the hell you got this roughed up?”

you asked in turn, crouching down to look at the detached and ruined internals of boothill's torso where the stand-in wires were connected. you ran a finger carefully along the edge of his shredded metallic stomach.

“guess i didn't make you as smart as i thought. time for a newer model, maybe?”

boothill's eyes flickered down to his missing lower half, then to your hand that was more or less caressing him. it was amazing how much annoyance they could show in all their artificial glory.

“look who’s talkin.” the cowboy grumbled, pointy fangs poking out in an irritated grin. 

“how ‘bout, ‘gee, boothill! i’m real glad y’ain’t get blown to smithereens beyond repair!’” 

“it would've been less work for me if whoever blew you up finished the job.”

you sighed as you stood up, putting a hand lazily on your hip.

“how’d it happen?”

boothill bit back another argument with a gruff chuckle.

“some real cutie-pies i was huntin’ down had a lil’ more firepower than i expected. guess they didn’t appreciate me spoilin’ their party.”

boothill visibly cringed as his insult was substituted with some cutesy nickname mid explanation.

“and can you fix my beautiful synesthesia beacon already? this thing is drivin’ me up the wall.”

the request fell on deaf ears as your fingers typed something on your laptop, likely another string of code.

“you’re more concerned about your censor than how long it’s gonna take me to put your legs back on…” you sighed to yourself, still leaned over your workbench, eyes focused on your screen.

“i'm not touching it right now. you’re lucky i’m even letting you stay sentient after this.”

boothill snorted at the remark, brows furrowing in a steady grimace.

“well, ‘scuse me for wantin’ to speak freely–  i’m a grown man!” his pointy teeth shone as they peeked out again in a grin.

“y’know what? just leave yer lil’ tools and all the pieces there— i’ll get my legs back on myself. don’t need no charity work from the likes’a you.” he laughed. “heck, may even give myself a new pecker while i'm at it!”

the mechanic had half a mind to listen, sit back and watch boothill struggle to reassemble himself just to prove a point and simultaneously bask in his embarrassment when the former realised it wasn’t possible.

(not that he would’ve admitted defeat– you would have begrudgingly stepped in and helped before he inevitably messed up his wiring more.)

you stepped back over to boothill, hands moving to hold his cheeks so you could tilt his face side to side to check for any more damage.

“cool it, cowboy.” your eyes squinted in focus as they looked at boothill's, lightly tugging up on his eyelid to check for scratches or cracks.

“i'll get you back up and running, just lose the attitude already.”

boothill's eyes narrowed as he felt your touch on his face. the temperature difference of warm fingers on his cold, mechanical body stirring an oddity where his gut should have been. though he tried to ignore it, the sensation was there, clear as day against all his artificial nerve endings. 

“real easy for you to say,” he huffed, avoiding your eyes as he was examined like a broken toy. “let’s see how peachy you are when yer all strung up and legless, love muffin.”

that censor really was gonna drive him insane.

“just get it over with.'' boothill muttered in annoyance. “and try not t’fuss anythin’ up.”

it took quite some time, as expected, for you to successfully reattach boothill’s legs and fix his mangled midsection. when you were finally finished, you tugged out any leftover wires that connected boothill to your terminals and pushed back in your wheelie chair to beckon the cowboy forward. you pushed your glasses up to your forehead, some hair getting swept out of your eyes with them.

“feel fine?”

boothill rolled his ankles and bent his knees, giving his legs a good stretch to test their mobility.

“mighty fine,” he responded, satisfied to feel they were weighted and moved the same as before. “though i can’t say i’m lovin’ the breeze up my backside.” 

boothill glanced down at himself, steel body completely bare and lacking any of his signature clothing. 

“got my pants lyin’ around anywhere, sugar plum?”

you pointed to another table in the room, where boothills clothes— (or rather the new ones you had to go and get—) were neatly folded, his hat placed on top of them. 

boothill went to get himself dressed, hoisting up his bell bottomed pants and sliding on his jacket. he stole a glance in your direction every so often, resisting the childish urge to roll his eyes at the mere sight of you.

the artificial man hit a small bump in the road as he went to zip his jacket (could you really call it that with how little it covered?) up—  his fingers weren’t responding as well as they should have been. he could open and close his fist, but lacked the precision to pinch and hold the zipper.

“hey, honeybun,'' boothill called over to you with a furrowed brow. “didn’t i tell you not to go fudgin’ anythin’ up?”

you, in all your overtired glory groaned, turning around in your chair and waving boothill back over.

“what are you talking about?” 

“my cute lil’ fingers ain’t workin’ that’s what i’m talkin’ ‘bout!”

boothill's footsteps were clunky and loud as he stomped his way back over to his mechanic.

you reached for his hand, an uncharacteristic gentleness in your touch as you examined five mechanical fingers.

“make a fist,”

boothill obeyed, curling his fingers into his palm.

“open it,”

he obeyed again, letting them open and relax.

“hold up two fingers,”

boothill tried, but his fingers got stuck halfway into the motion, locking at the joints.

“son of a bitch.” you sighed, turning for one of your tools. “sit back down.”

boothill grumbled and went to hoist himself back onto the workbench.

“least one o’us can say it…” 

“do you want me to fix you or not?”

“i'm sittin’ ain’t i??”

you pulled boothill's shirt off his left shoulder and popped open a tiny panel on the curve of his neck, sliding your glasses back on to the bridge of your nose. with a lean forward you began carefully looking at a few thin wires that filled the space.

boothill tapped his fingers against the tabletop while you worked, that same oddity as before settling in his now repaired gut. he rarely got messed up enough for you and him to spend this much time together, or for you to have to really be in such close proximity.

it’s not uncomfortable, but the feeling is by no means familiar. it’s actually a little embarrassing– a galaxy ranger, a space cyborg and expert hunter, feeling almost flustered at some close contact like some kind of shy little girl.

“something the matter?”

boothill nearly jumped as you spoke up quietly to check on him, voice quiet and so close to his ear he had to refrain from leaning both closer and away.

“nah, everything’s just dandy.” boothill’s voice followed yours– quieter and a little softer as a result of the closeness.

“you’re sure?” you looked up from the small mess of wires, eyes glancing up at your cyborg over the rim of your glasses. “might as well fix anything else that’s bugging you while i’m here.”

boothill would have swallowed if he had the need to lubricate his throat. he shook his head, turning to look somewhere— anywhere else.

yours lingered on him, albeit briefly, observing the clench of his jaw and the way he tried to shift in his seat without being disruptive to your work. he didn’t see the little smirk tug at your lips as you refocused on the task at hand.

boothill’s cybernetic limbs felt almost human in their sensitivity, sending faux shivers up a spine he didn’t even have. the mechanics fingers running down his forearm are doing him no favours as they move to hold his hand again.

“close your fist…open it…two fingers up…”

each command was obeyed, ten gunmetal fingers finally holding up a little peace sign.

“that should be it, come see me if they start acting up again.”

you stood up, tentatively reaching out to fix boothill’s jacket and begin to zip it for him.

boothill didn’t protest the act, but it was…confusing, to say the least.

“reckon i’ll just start seein’ those auto bots again,” he leaned back on his palms as your fingers fixed his collar, straightening it out.  “much as i love our lil’ visits.”

you only hummed, smoothing out a few wrinkles and neatly tucking his scarf into it’s neckline, as he liked. “you could,” you mused, hooking your finger lightly into his collar and giving a gentle tug forward. “they don’t take as good care of you as i do, though.”

this time boothill caught the little smirk on your lips, clear as day and enough to make him question if short circuiting was possible.

you’re doing it on purpose, he knows. the careful touches to his hands and body against the sensors you put there, quiet voice leaving him with a frisson you made it possible for him to have.

boothill returned the smirk, albeit a little wobbly.

“you tryin’a rile me up, sugar plum?” 

he entertained you with a lean forward, two white crosshairs looking right at you while he considered if a hand on your waist was too forward or the perfect cornering move. 

“just like watching you squirm.”

you were gone as quickly as you’d arrived, finger unhooked and going to pick up his hat.

“but say i was,” you didn’t bother with a glance over as you made sure the brim was straight and unharmed. “i hardly have to try.” 

boothill hopped down from the table, following your path and offering a scruffy chuckle when you reached up to place it on his head.

“yeah? and what makes y’say that?” his hand found a place on his hip.

you didn’t respond— not verbally, anyway. a quick flick of your eyes downwards was all he received. 

so he followed, looking down as well, to the very appendage he had insisted you give him over and over again pushing against his trousers. 

his own dream, now his downfall. 

boothill pushed passed you, pushing his hat further down onto his head while he stomped away. the profanities that left his lips filled the air— or rather their replacements. something something i love you blah blah peach cobbler something cutie-pie or meow!

“remind me t’settle for them lovely auto bots next time!”

he opened the door with a firm kick of his boot, stomping out with a scowl. 

as if he wouldn’t be back. you took better care of him, after all.

⠀ 𑣲 MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?

[mmelolabelle]

Armand is someone who has been has been trained (in brothels, by Marius, and by 500+ years worth of life experience) to adapt himself to what the people around him want. Throughout seasons 1-2, different people get very different versions of Armand, depending on who they are and who’s retelling the story at the time.

It’s the primary way Armand protects himself, whether he’s a teenage sex slave or the oldest, strongest person in the room. It’s how he controls people. Fundamentally, it’s the only way Armand knows to make people love him (an approximation of love at least). Worse, it’s the only way Armand knows how to love — by twisting and contorting himself into whatever form he thinks his current obsession wants or needs him to be. He even does it to his victims for crying out loud.

And then here’s Daniel, who is constantly seeking authenticity and truth. Who’s bullshit detector is never “off”. Who cannot tolerate any kind of masquerade, manipulation or lie – no matter how kind or well intentioned. Not out of any moral or ethical objection, but because Daniel simply cannot leave things well enough alone once something attracts his attention. He has to know. He has to see where it goes and how it ends.

“It’s my job, I’m built this way”

“It’s in your nature, Mr Molloy. Couldn’t get out the door without lobbing one more bomb.”

Daniel knew something was off about “Rashid” from the beginning, so he began to pick the situation in Dubai apart until Armand revealed himself. And then he kept going until he completely destroyed the narrative Armand had spent 77 years constructing.

Daniel deliberately and systematically pulled “Armand, Amadeo, Arun” apart and laid him bare with nothing but but a laptop, some free time, a near-suicidal disregard for his own personal safety and a mouth that just wouldn’t quit.

There’s power in being seen, in being known, ugly parts and all. What would it feel like, to be completely exposed like that for the first time in centuries?

So yeah it makes sense to me that Armand, who puts on all these acts and artifices to draw people in, but which only serve to ensure they’re kept at a distance, would turn his big sad orange eyes on the person who blew them all to smithereens and be all “…I wanna do this forever, actually.”

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Having To Patch Soshiro Up After A Kaiju Attack

Soshiro Hoshina X FemReader

Rating: T+

Warnings: Blood, injuries, mentions of death, teasing, and kaiju remains

Word Count: 1k

(A/N:) I am enjoying the Kaiju No. 8 anime immensely and it's giving me all sorts of ideas to write! I have several more Kafka ones in my drafts and I want to write more for several other of the male characters. So keep an eye out I may write your favorite dude! I'm also thinking about opening my requests back up in case anyone has any Kaiju No. 8 requests, even though my drafts are insanely full. We'll just see but until next time happy reading! ~Countess

The suits made by Izumo Tech were a marvel of innovation and technology. Designed to give the members of Japan's fiercest warriors; The Defense Force, a fighting chance against the Kaiju that plagued their country. But still the warriors were only human no matter how amazing the suit.

Your booted feet thundered against the broken asphalt, breath heaving in pants as you raced across the now quiet battlefield. Just seconds ago it was Hell on Earth as you and your fellow soldiers fought for your very lives. But now Kaiju matter was splattered against everything. It was going to be quite the mess for whatever cleaning crew was open to do the dirty job. The attacks had become more frequent here lately, that the few companies that specialized in Kaiju clean up were becoming overwhelmed to get the different attack sights back to some semblance of normalcy for the citizens. But even that problem was far back from your mind. Only one person had you running so hard after fighting so intensely. Soshiro had gone silent after dispatching some of the smaller ones with his blades. You knew he had sustained injuries, but for him to go quiet, it wasn't a good sign. There was closer Third Division officers nearby but you knew with whatever stamina you had left you could make it. Your worries taking over any rational thought in your mind.

Konomi echoed in your ear, leading you straight towards Soshiro's location. Her frantic directions wasn't doing much to calm your nerves, but as an officer you couldn't let your anxiety show.

"Just around this corner," Konomi said. You thanked her turning down your communication device as you skidded around a pile of rubble. There leaned up against what remained of a wall was Soshiro. He held his side, eyes closed, and protective mask discarded at his side. Though winded and exhausted from the long race here, you gripped your rifle tighter the sling hitting your neck and tangling in the wild strands of hair that had broken free. Blood coated Soshiro's face and the fact that he wasn't responding to footsteps coming closer was more than concerning. Fear was beginning to grip your heart, when you finally got at his side.

"Two cracked ribs and significant blood loss," Konomi's sudden voice through the comm caused you to jump. "He's not critical just yet but I do have the medics on route to your location."

"I can staunch the blood flow," you replied. "I'll try to get him conscious again too."

"Good idea. I'll keep monitoring his vitals and let you know if anything changes."

"Copy."

Unslinging the rifle from your neck, you set it close by in case any threats remained. You removed the small med pack from your belt and got to work. Tapping at his cheek, you started working on getting Soshiro awake. Several moments went by and it wasn't until you put pressure on one of his worse wounds did he finally groan.

"Vice Captain," you continued to pat his cheek. "Vice Captain Hoshina! Soshiro wake up!"

He stirred, bleary eyes blinking against the bright sunlight before his gaze finally found you.

"Welcome back to the land of the living sir," you sighed in relief.

"So I died," he groaned. "And here I thought I was immortal."

"Well you didn't die but you do have a long road to recovery. You're pretty banged up and look terrible. The Kaiju Captain blew to smithereens looks better than you."

"Officer (L/N)," Soshiro groaned more as you wrapped several wounds tightly in gauze, "did anyone ever tell you that your bedside manner is garbage?"

"We're out on the battlefield and you're not laying on a bed sir," you grinned before going back to placing pressure on a wound that was too large for bandages. "Beside manners don't exist out here."

"Fieldside manner then," he glared. "And if you press any tighter to my side you're going to stab my lungs with my ribs."

"That's not me. That would be your suit keeping you from jostling your cracked ribs."

"(Y/N)! Vice-Captain Hoshina's vitals seem to be stabilizing more. Medics are inbound and will be there shortly," Konomi updated you and you acknowledged her.

"You had me worried Soshiro," you sniffed, hands stained with his blood. You had turned your comm off so you could talk with him in private for just a moment. You both didn't have long anyway with the evac team so close by.

"Sorry," he grimaced. Righting himself up more he wrapped one arm around your neck and pulled you in tight. "I'm sorry I worried you so much. I take risks but this time my decision wasn't the right one."

You held him as best as you could without hurting him further, "I'm just so glad you're okay!"

You hated crying but the relief you felt, had you breaking down in seconds. Soshiro wasn't used to seeing you cry and it broke his heart. Always the strong soldier, you couldn't help yourself around him as you wanted him by your side forever.

"You're not hurt are you," Soshiro asked as he stroked the back of your hair.

"No." You breathed deep, calming yourself and wiped your eyes. "Does that mean that I have surpassed the great Soshiro Hoshina in skills?"

"Absolutely not. We both know that my blade skills leave everyone else in the dust," he scoffed.

"Yeah but I didn't decide to use my ribs to stop a kaiju punch."

"Shut up."

You laughed kissing his forehead quickly, as it was the only place not covered in blood, as the boots of the medics came closer.

"I'm glad you're okay," you whispered. Soshiro couldn't answer as he was suddenly surrounded by several medical officers. He nodded towards you as you picked your rifle back up and started to go join the other members of the Third Division. The battle wasn't over just yet as you needed to look for more survivors. But you felt the burden lift from your shoulders knowing that the man you loved was going to be okay and was in capable hands. The fight with the kaiju continued on but if you stayed by Hoshiro's side you felt like you both could make the world a better place together.

[sunonyoreface]

He Knows - Simon "Ghost Riley Pt. 22

Word count: 3611

Warnings: minors dni, angst, military setting, explicit language, depictions of violence.

I’m not supposed to be here. Quiet beeping fills the room. Soft sunlight drifts in through the windows and skylight. The atmosphere of the infirmary is surprisingly uplifting, almost like an escape from the rest of the compound. If Ghost or Price found out, they’d probably send me back to my quarters, lock the door, and throw away the key. But there are a few people who’ve taken sympathy on me recently. Konig being one of them.

He was only supposed to fill in for Soap by taking me to breakfast. Yet, he was suspiciously early. The cafeteria had barely opened and almost no one was around. I was cautiously silent the whole time, but after we finished filling our trays and before we sat down to eat, the towering man leaned down and asked if I wanted to eat with Soap instead.

A spark of hope flickered behind my eyes. I knew he could see it. Konig didn’t say anything else, but gestured with his head toward the door.

Now we sit in the infirmary together beside Soap’s bed. It’s a long, large room and the beds are only separated by curtains to provide a miniscule amount of privacy. But it's still more welcoming than all the other spaces on the compound.

Soap is in rough shape, but at least he’s alive. Bandages wrap around his chest and his arm is back in the sling. One of Soap’s eyes is completely bloodshot from an impact to the head. The eerie red is a harsh contrast against the stormy blue of his irises. He had internal bleeding at some point, but during the surgery, they were able to stop it. His skin is painfully painted in large black and purple bruises from head to toe.

However, the explosion didn’t touch his smile, which tugs at the corner of his mouth as I tell him how Konig snuck me in here. The skin around his eyes crinkles, but he winces as he laughs. The pain he’s in is still fresh. Soap will be in here for days. He’ll be off the field for even longer.

“I’m glad you’re still here lass,” the smile is evident in his voice, yet his words allude to something more. How much did he know about the plan? What was supposed to happen to me? I can’t ask him that. Not with Konig here and not with only curtains for privacy.

I need to know what 141’s real plans were. Who shot first? Who’s to blame for the people who died that day? What the hell really happened?

All I can do now is revel in the small moments of our friendship. Because even if he did know, I can’t hold it against him. I don’t think I could ever be angry at Soap.

“You should’ve seen their faces when they realized we destroyed their main base,” pride laces Soap’s voice as he speaks to Konig. “They didn’t know what hit them.”

“You blew it up?” I ask.

Soap’s eyes light up as they connect with mine. I can almost see the flames in their reflection. “to smithereens,” I can picture it in my head, feel the explosion ripple through the air with such an immense power it flattens the trees. There’d be nothing left of their base after Soap’s team was done with it. They definitely sent a message.

Konig begins asking him another question when I see a shadow move behind the cream curtains. Ghost steps into the room and the atmosphere immediately shifts. I haven’t seen him since the exchange. Now I can’t take my eyes off him. Every feeling I have for him is so incredibly conflicting.

“Who authorized this?” Ghost demands, already knowing the answer.

“I – uh,” Konig stumbles over his words. Guilt twists inside my chest. I don’t want him to get in trouble for being nice to me. “No one, sir,”

Sometimes I forget the power he has within the task force. Nothing happens without Ghost knowing and approving of it. Especially when it comes to me. My fear for Konig grows.

“It’s my fault,” I lie. Ghost’s eyes flicker to me. “I said you’d let me see Soap,” the urgency in my voice mixes with a false sense of confidence well enough that the average person might just believe what I’m saying. Ghost, however, is far from the average person.

The air is tense. He turns his attention back to Konig. “That true?”

“Negative, sir,” my fists clench in my lap when he responds. Damn him for being honest.

“Head back to your station, we’ll discuss this later,” his voice is cold. I wish I could see more of his face to gauge how angry he is.

“Come on Ghost, it isn’t that serious,” Soap interjects as Konig gets up to leave. I feel ashamed, like we were caught with our hands in the cookie jar at our grandparent’s place. Unease also weaves its way into my mind. I’m not sure where I stand with Ghost. He could’ve changed his entire attitude towards me altogether.

“Don’t start, Soap,” says Ghost. His narrowed eyes are back on me. “You. Follow me. No questions.”

My mouth is dry as I force myself to swallow. Ghost has already left the room when Soap grabs my hand and gives it a quick, reassuring squeeze. He smiles half-heartedly, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Thanks for visiting,” he whispers.

I smile in response, but can’t find the words to tell him how much his friendship means to me.

My heart thrums in my chest as I catch up to Ghost. He leads me down a dark hallway I haven’t taken before. Something tells me we aren’t going back to his or my quarters. Maybe he doesn’t trust them anymore. Someone could be recording us.

Ghost walks faster than normal, as though his irritation fuels him. His broad frame stands out against the mute background. I feel small trailing behind him. I wonder how long it’d take him to notice if I stopped walking.

The corridor is smaller than the main hallways that take you to the cafeteria and sleeping quarters. The ceiling is shorter too, and the overhead lights are spaced out to the extent that the hall almost fades to complete darkness between them. There aren’t any rooms or offices and it doesn’t seem to intersect with any other passages. It truly feels like we’re walking in a liminal space with no beginning or end. Anxiety builds at the bottom of my lungs, slowly but surely pushing out the available air.

The anticipation of what’s about to happen tears me apart inside. What will he say? What will he do? After finding out 141 had my mom all along and was waiting to use her as a backup strategy, I feel even more betrayed than before. Ghost said he couldn’t tell me things, but how can he justify keeping information about my life hidden from me? He wasn’t protecting me, he was making sure I wouldn’t turn on them.

Now what? Maybe Bennet was right, that 141 doesn’t need an excuse to keep me around now that they have my father. Will Ghost take me out back and put a bullet in my head? Will they do the same to my parents? There’s no way they can possibly return me to my old life. Such a thing doesn’t exist anymore.

A glowing red exit sign hangs in the air above a door that is almost impossible to spot. The light menacingly reflects off the skull mask as he waits for me to come closer. Ghost shoves the door open and waits for me to enter the staircase first.

Everything is metal and cement and only lit up by emergency lights that are once again spaced too far apart. I feel his demanding presence behind me as the door latches and locks behind us. The sound echos off the walls. Not another soul is here. Nor do they know of our presence. We are truly, completely, alone.

“Simon,” I hesitate. He said no questions, but after everything, how does he expect me to blindly follow him? “What are we doing here?”

“I lied to you,” just like that, his words trigger something in me. Like a fuse that was just waiting for someone to stumble across the wire. Ghost’s foot just snagged that very wire. My demeanour completely changes.

“That’s a fucking understatement,” I whip around to face him. Ghost stands on the cement landing space with his back to the dark grey door. Staircases with metal railings connect to each end of the platform leading to the upper and lower floors. Every sound lightly echoes off the brick, windowless walls that look like someone forgot to paint them. His arms fold across his chest at my harsh accusation. He stiffens. The Lieutenant isn’t used to being addressed in this way. My tone is blatantly disrespectful. But I don’t care. “You’ve done so much more than just lie to me.”

“Y/n-” I cut him off.

“No. I’m talking,” I interrupt. “I won’t even bring up how you fucking drugged and kidnapped me to get me here. You have done so much shit to me, Simon, so much. I don’t even know where the hell to start, but since you mentioned it, the lying. The fucking lying. Every single time I think we’re finally on the same page, you turn around and fucking lie and hide information about me from me. You don’t get to do that! Not when it’s my life being affected. You don’t get to pretend to be God, Simon,” I step towards him with an accusatory finger pointed at his chest. “And it’s not like you’re lying just about anything. It’s about my mom, Simon, my fucking mom! Do you have any idea what that’s done to me? How scared I am for her? You and Price and whoever else have no right to do that to her. None. And don’t you dare tell me that she was safe that entire time and you wouldn’t have hurt her. I don’t believe for a second that Price wouldn’t have killed her.”

“You’re right,” Ghost states. I feel myself resisting his attempt.  His arms fall from his chest and he dares to take a small step closer.

“I can’t trust you, Simon. Every time I think I can, there’s always more to the story you’re hiding from me. You’re always hiding. Always. Every time we talk. Every time we see each other. It’s always one-sided. I don’t even get to see you, Simon. You’ve touched every inch of me and yet I don’t even know what you look like. How can I ever genuinely trust you?” my feelings are constantly exacerbated after every interaction we have. Especially recently.

“Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Just close them,” his voice is low and stern, yet unmistakably tender. I listen to Ghost’s orders and reluctantly close my eyes.

The stair well is utterly silent except for our light breaths. Then, my ears pick up on something else. It’s the quiet rustle of fabric against skin. Then, the sound of uncertain footsteps coming closer. Ghost’s breath is shakey as he slowly exhales.

His large hands encase mine as he brings them up past his chest and gently places them on the sides of his defined jaw. The warmth of Simon’s skin immediately sinks into my hands. My heart skips a beat. He isn’t wearing his mask.

A fearful moment of hesitancy passes between us. Neither quite sure how to proceed. This is uncharted territory. He is taking a giant leap of faith right now. Even after everything, after I said I can’t trust him, he does this. I’m not sure I completely understand his train of thought, but I know this gesture is far from the faint of heart. 

“I’ll tell you everything, no hiding, just promise me you’ll keep your eyes closed,” his voice is low and cautious. I trace my thumbs back and forth along his jaw. His skin is smooth under the pads of my fingers and I get a brief hint of his woodsy aftershave.

“You don’t have to do this,” the whisper brushes across my lips, yet I can’t hide the hope behind my words. I need to know. The harrowing lies have eaten away at me for weeks. My stomach twists and growls like a starved, feral animal. I struggle to stifle the growing hunger pains.

“I want to,” yet, I’m not sure he’s fully convinced himself. This is his last chance to catch me as I’m falling through his calloused fingers. Simon knows this.

My hands leave his jaw and lightly trace upwards, just barely brushing over Simon’s face. His skin is surprisingly soft. Heat pools in his cheeks and as I move upward, I notice a rough patch of skin along his one cheekbone. Something akin to a long, jagged scar. Simon’s breathing hitches as I pause. A painful memory passes.

“What was the original plan? What was going to happen to me?” I ask, hands still on his face. Simon shifts closer. I feel the heat radiating from his body. We can’t be more than a few inches apart.

“Do you know about the second attack?” he asks.

“Bits and pieces.”

“While the exchange was happening, the demolitions unit was rigging the Ultranationalist’s nearby base. The explosion was set to go off ten minutes after they had you. It didn’t, something went wrong and the base went down early. That’s how Soap was injured. That’s what tipped the Ultranationalists off and why they started fighting in the bushes,” my hands still as he speaks. “Ideally your father would’ve taken you and left, then their base would detonate on the way back. They’d have nowhere to go and we would take control of their vehicles and capture the targets,” he finishes.

“What about everyone else?” I ask.

“Anyone caught on sight would be killed,” he replies bluntly. The gravity of his words weighs heavily on me. There were a lot of men there. Imagining their bodies lying in the snow sends a shiver down my spine. I feel his eyes on me, reading every microexpression, understanding every judgement. “That’s how it is.”

“It’s cruel.”

“Not in comparison to what they do,” I remember his visible hatred for the Ultranationalists from our night at the cabin. Clips of the videos flash in my mind. The innocent people they killed, all in the name of political power. Everything Ghost feels for them is completely justified. Killing them means saving so many more. It’s for the greater good.

My hands skim across his face. They pass over Simon’s forehead then down past his thick brows. Long eyelashes flutter under my hands. Like his other features, his nose is strong. There’s a bump along the bridge that indicates it’s been broken at least once. No doubt from his service.

“Is my mother an Ultranationalist?” The seed was planted when I learned what my father is. She had to at least know. Although making assumptions like that is dangerous, I had no idea. And look at me now.

“She’s affiliated.”

“Is that your way of being polite?”

“No,” he says. “She knew who your father was when they immigrated to America, but she was never personally involved,” Simon’s cool breath fans against my face as he speaks.

“Until now,” because of them. Because of 141.

“Until now,” he confirms.

I resent how they’ve dragged us into this. I had a life before all of this. I was happy. Now I’ll never be able to go back. I’ll never be with my family again. I’ll never be loved by them again.

“Would Price have killed her?” the words are barely above a whisper. I feel my pulse pick up and realize I’m scared to hear his answer.

“Affirmative,” he confirms and I feel my heart clench under his fist. “But not on American soil. The guns that day were loaded with blanks.”

My hands still on top of his face and I fight the urge to open my eyes. My throat tightens and I know if I speak, my voice will crack. I can almost hear his next words: she knew what she signed up for. That doesn’t change how much his answer hurts.

I inch back and start to pull away when two large hands gently wrap around my wrists.

“Stay,” Simon murmurs. That one word has more influence on me than I care to admit. It’s not a request or an order. It’s almost a plea.

I wordlessly nod and feel as Simon places my hands back on top of his face. He steps forward, closing the remaining space between us with a silent promise. I move my right hand over his full lips and trace the outline of them. My mind flickers to all the places they’ve touched, the marks they’ve decorated my skin with. The smooth feeling of them as they glided between my own. The welcoming taste of them. The feeling of his flesh between my teeth. The lies they’ve told. The promises they hold.

“One more,” I hesitate. My mouth runs dry. This could be the defining moment of my life. Everything – every damn thing - relies on his answer. “Does Price consider me to be affiliated with the Ultranationalists?”

My eyes squint tight with anticipation. Beneath my fingers, Simon wets his lips. I feel his words form against my skin before they reach my ears. “Negative,” the word is a sigh of relief between us.

I visibly relax against his strong body. Simon takes this opportunity to grab a strand of my hair and twist it between his fingers. “I was going to kill your father when he held that gun to your head,” there’s nothing bitter about his confession. The low words are a matter of fact in his mind. I’m less surprised by his confession than I thought. My hands travel back down to his jaw and trace along the length of it. I wish he did. I would have.

“Why didn’t you?” I ask.

“It’s not my choice to make,” I think about his words for a moment. Is it that simple in his mind? Their orders are capture or kill. It was his choice to make.

Unless…

Unless that isn’t what he’s referring to. My breathing falters and my mind draws a blank. I don’t know what to say. Surely he isn’t alluding to what I think he is?

I want to open my eyes. To search his face. To try and read his facial expressions.

“Simon I-” I draw a blank. How do you respond to that?

“I don’t expect you to trust me,” but I do. I already do. Even if I shouldn’t. Even if it’ll only get me hurt in the end. “But I will always tell you the truth,” his hand wraps around the outside of my own. He brings it to his lips and presses a soft kiss to the pads of my fingers.

He releases me only to cup the sides of my face. Simon gently pulls me in. My concentration on keeping my eyes closed, slips, as his lips lightly skim across mine.

I don’t hesitate when I press my full body weight against his. He’s warm and sturdy and safe. Nothing else matters as his strong hands wrap around my body and wind through my hair, pulling me even closer. I don’t want to lose him. Yet I know this can’t last. There’s nothing sustainable about Ghost and I.

“Will you do something for me?” I whisper against his lips. He pauses, just for a moment, just long enough to consider all of the different things I might ask.

“What?”

“I want to see him,” I say, resting my head against the nape of his neck. “Alone.”

“There’s nothing he’ll say that will make you feel any better, y/n,” Simon brushes a gentle hand along the top of my hair. “Trust me,” There’s an unsaid “believe me, I know” after his last words. My mind flickers back to the brief mentions of his father. Of how horribly he treated his family. I can’t help but reject that comparison. Our fathers are two completely different monsters.

“I need to try,” I say. I feel him stiffen. He can’t protect me the way he wants to if I’m there alone, but I need this. I won’t have another chance. Soon they’ll ship him off to a remote location that doesn’t officially exist, never to be seen again. My window is closing.

“Okay,” he sighs. It’s barely a confirmation. Yet, his words are enough. I wonder if Ghost will run this by Price? Or will I truly be alone with my father tomorrow?

That night, after Ghost drops me off, I think of all the things I’ve wanted to say to my father in the last few weeks. Of all the things I’ve wanted to do.

I visualize a list of everything on my mind as I lie in bed. I shift and slip my hand under my pillow. My fingertips brush against the sharp tip of the cold, compact switchblade Ghost gave me that night in the cabin. It fits against my palm like it was forged specifically for my hand.

Ghost gave it to me for protection against him. Trained me how to use it with the Ultranationalist rat in mind. Never would I have ever dreamed of doing what my mind conjures up now.

I fall asleep with my hand securely wrapped around the knife.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Hi hello! I’m not the person who originally submitted the ask for the Genshin/Honkai girls with a G Gundam-style chuuni S/O, but I’ll be fully honest that one hit my brainrot something good and fierce. So what about Xinyan, Dehya, Navia, Himeko, March 7th, and Stelle with the G Gundam Chuuni S/O?

(Genshin Impact/Honkai: Star Rail)

Xinyan, Dehya, Navia, Himeko, March 7th, Stelle, and Natasha with a very dramatic S/O

Part 1 here!

@jjovin3221, here is your part two, courtesy of others!

Also, March 7th's part has my absolute favorite image I've ever made for this blog.

Xinyan absolutely loves S/O's over the top attitude!

Not to mention they had some killer pyrotechnics! Both their visions may be Pyro, but her lover's put any flame to shame.

The explosion they'd create alongside the absolute raw energy they exuded from their shouts was enough to motivate her and her fans.

Plus they had an amazing stage name already: The King/Queen of Hearts!

But that being said, she finds them a little too intense at times. All they cared about was fighting, but she did appreciate they made time for her concerts despite that fact.

...Wait, their whole warrior schtick isn't just a stage Persona, was it?

==

Xinyan watched as S/O effortlessly blew through a horde of bandits with blinding kicks and punches.

She could only watch in silent awe while they rapidly leapt from one enemy to another, everyone powerless to stop their rampage.

With one final kick, S/O sent the last bandit tumbling down a hill, while they crossed their arms dramatically, headband blowing in the wind.

One of the ones knocked to the floor by their punch tried to crawl away, catching S/O's and Xinyan's attention.

(Bandit) "W-What are you?!"

(S/O) "You look upon a student of the Undefeated of the East!"

Grabbing their collar, they looked them in the eyes as they reached for something in their pocket.

(Xinyan) "...Uh, is that a picture?-"

(S/O) "Have you seen this man?"

(Bandit) "Wha...D-DID YOU ATTACK US JUST TO ASK THAT QUESTION?!-"

(S/O) "Answer me!"

(Bandit) "ACK! N-NO! NEVER SEEN HIM!"

S/O tossed the bandit behind him like they were made of paper, walking back to Xinyan.

(Xinyan) "...S/O, did you actually want to ask 'em a darn question this entire time?!"

(S/O) "I did. Does that bother you?"

Xinyan was stunned, blinking twice to make sure she was processing S/O's actions correctly.

(Xinyan) "...A-A little, yeah! Why the heck did we beat the tar outta 'em just for a single thing?!"

(S/O) "Hm. They started it. Let's get back to Liyue, your concert will start soon."

(Xinyan) "R-Right..." Man, they sure do got a screw loose...

Dehya had met many mercenaries that had something wrong with them throughout her career.

But her S/O took the crown for the biggest psycho she's ever met.

When she first met them, she knew they had a dangerous air about them.

What she didn't expect is for them to be able to blow every single thing they came across into smithereens with just their bare hands.

Sure, a Vision allows you to pull some crazy stunts, but how does it ignite your entire fist into a golden flaming sun, which allows you to blow up things as if they were pyro slimes?!

She fell for them because of the kindness they could display, and how reliable they were, but that was when they weren't going off the deep end.

And these days, that was getting increasingly rarer.

==

Dehya marched into the ruins with S/O, both of them approaching a group of eremites who were holding a girl hostage.

(Dehya) "There's a lot of them in there. What's our plan?"

(S/O) "Flank around the sides. I'll go in the front and save the girl."

Before she could formulate another plan, S/O walked ahead of her.

(Dehya) "Be careful..."

She then watched as the Eremites immediately shot at S/O with arrows from their flanks.

S/O suddenly crouched down with arrows inside of them, which made Dehya's heart stop.

The Eremite's laughter quickly halted when S/O stood back up, arrows somehow caught between every single one of their fingers, completely unscathed.

(Dehya) "...What?"

S/O suddenly threw every single arrow back at them, each of them seemingly lethal as they instantly dropped dead, despite the fact they went through non-fatal areas of their bodies.

(S/O) "COWARD! IF YOU WANT TO FIGHT ME, SHOW YOUR FACE AND I'LL CHALLENGE YOU TO A DUEL!"

(Dehya) sigh "I'm not even going to ask..."

Navia thought S/O was part of a theatre group from Inazuma, given how over the top they were.

She was horribly wrong, and she didn't know if that was a good thing.

But it certainly made life much more interesting!...In a fiery explosion and screaming kind of way.

But Navia didn't really think S/O any less for it. She loved every bit of them!

...Even the more psychotic bits that would make everyone flee in terror.

==

Navia's bodyguards watched nervously as Navia loaded her umbrella gun.

(Bodyguard) "U-Uh, I know S/O's reflexes are good but-"

(Bodyguard 2) "Even with non-lethal ammunition, this is REALLY dangerous!"

S/O scoffed as their arms were crossed.

(S/O) "Do you really think bullets can even touch me?"

(Navia) "They're right darling, this is a spreadshot weapon at point blank-"

(S/O) "Then the King of Hearts will show you all! HIT ME, NAVIA!"

(Navia) "A-Alright...Three, two, one!-"

(S/O) "SHINING, FINGER!"

BANG!

In what seemed like an instant, S/O's hand began glowing a bright golden light as it extended out, melting all the bullets she shot upon contact, not even a single one getting through.

Navia and her bodyguards were beside themselves, unsure of what they witnessed even happened.

(Navia) "HUH?! B-BUT-"

(Bodyguard) "HOW DOES THAT EVEN WORK?!"

(S/O) "Hmph! If you think what I can do is impressive, then you should see my Master."

(Navia) "S/O, PLEASE let me meet him! I want to ask him how he can just defy the laws of physics!-"

Himeko at first was convinced S/O was just some kind of actor hired to be a live-action representation of Welt's creations.

But no, they were just inside a Mecha-like suit they had created, and could do martial arts perfectly.

...A little too perfect, actually.

Himeko wants to research how the suit works, but she's pretty sure S/O would drive their fist into her stomach and make her explode if she attempted.

Just like every enemy they've come across.

But other than that? She's not exactly too bothered by their insane behavior.

In her travels, she's honestly seen worse. At least S/O uses their power for good, and heck, they even liked her coffee!

That was good enough for her!

==

Himeko and S/O were strolling through the streets before they were approached by a hooded man, pulling out a knife.

She was mildly concerned by the thug, mostly for them more than anything. After all, S/O was outside their suit.

If they called it down, there would be hell to pay.

(Thug) "Your lady looks rich, hand over all the credits you got, or I'll gut you both."

(Himeko) "Is that right? Well, if I were you, I'd put the knife away."

(Thug) "Wha-Are you stupid?! HAND IT TO ME!"

(Himeko) "Oh, we'll give you a hand, alright. S/O?"

S/O raised their fist into the air.

(S/O) "COME OOUUUUUUUUT! GUNDAAAAAAAAM!"

S/O snapped, and the ground behind them suddenly blew open, shooting debris into the air.

S/O's clothes suddenly changed into a black skin-tight suit of spandex, landing and robotic parts suddenly materializing around them.

The thug was completely shocked by what he was witnessing, while Himeko watched with mild amusement.

(S/O) "HYYYAAAAGH! HYAH! HYAH!-"

S/O was now encased inside their mech, quickly throwing punches and kicks as their machine stabilized and checked if their movements synced up.

Himeko had a blank expression, silently thinking to herself:

(Himeko) S/O has done that every single time they've transformed, and no ones' actually bothered to stop them...

(S/O) "HERE I GO!"

With their warm-up out the way, S/O's machine crossed their arms as it stared directly at the thug, eyes flashing green.

(S/O) "This hand of mine glows with AN AWESOME POWER!"

Himeko tried to contain her giggle with one hand covering her mouth as the thug began blubbering in absolute fear as S/O's hand lit up the entire alley.

(Himeko) "That's so cheesy-"

(S/O) "IT'S LOUD ROAR TELLS ME TO DEFEAT YOU!"

They immediately grabbed the thug's head as they squirmed, trying their best to make them let go.

(S/O) "SHINING FIIIIIIIIII-"

(Himeko) "Okay dear, you don't actually need to blow him up. I think he gets it."

The head slowly turned to Himeko before a sigh came through the machine, anticlimactically dropping the thug onto the ground.

(S/O) "You heard the lady. Get out of here before she hands you back to me."

(Thug) "AAAAAAAAGH, YOU FREAKS!"

They sprinted away, almost tripping themselves several times in the process.

(Himeko) "...You have got to tell me how that suit of your works someday. Where does it even come from?-"

(S/O) "It comes when I need it."

(Himeko) "...That didn't answer-"

(S/O) "And I'm not going to."

March loved the walking mechanical natural disaster that was S/O.

Did they even make remotely any kind of sense?

Aeons no, but what in this universe really made sense when you think about it?

March takes pictures of S/O all the time inside their suit, pulling off awesome attacks and hanging it on her wall. It made for some really cool wallpaper!

She also likes to steal their headband whenever they were outside their mech, as rare as it was.

March wears their headband and starts mimicking their voice, dramatically shouting in a low voice. It doesn't take her long to break character and begin laughing.

But nothing could top the moment their Master visited the Astral Express.

Upon meeting their disciple once again, the two immediately broke into a strange dance. One that March had to try. If she couldn't make something explode with her hands, then it was onto the next best thing!

==

Dan Heng, March, and S/O watched as S/O's master departed on a mechanical horse, standing perfectly upright on it, while inside their own mech suit.

(Dan Heng) "...That would certainly explain why S/O is the way they are."

(S/O) "Amazing, isn't he?"

(March 7th) "...Hey, S/O? Remember that thing you did with your Master? Do you think we can try it too?"

S/O's machine tilted its head as they responded to March.

(S/O) "Huh? Oh, the dance?...Sure, why not!"

(Dan Heng) "Uh, I think I'd rather pass-"

(S/O) "Don't be such a spoilsport! Come on: Undefeated, School of the east!"

S/O raised their fist to the middle, with March 7th quickly chiming in and doing the same.

(March 7th) "Winds of the King!"

Dan Heng simply sighed, knowing March or S/O wouldn't take no for an answer.

Finally relenting, he raised his own fist.

(Dan Heng) "Zenshin!-"

S/O retracted their fist and struck a pose, as if they were ready to begin fighting.

(S/O) "KEIRETSU!"

March leaped into the air and landed dramatically, pointing upwards into the air.

(March 7th) "TEMPA KYORAN!"

Dan Heng grabbed S/O's metallic fist as they traded places, extending their arms and connecting their fists.

(Dan Heng) "Look!-"

(S/O) "THE EAST!-"

March went to the middle, the three of them shouting in unison:

Stelle kept a straight face through all of S/O's shenanigans.

Watching them pose dramatically, witnessing their machine erupt from the ground before S/O magical girl transformed into it, dodging the explosions their fists created, all of it.

Stelle was more confused than anything.

Rules were made to be broken, but the rules of how gravity, physics, and heat worked too?

That was taking it a little too far.

She wants to know how they do it, but some questions were probably left unanswered.

==

S/O's mech crossed its arms, dramatically posing as it turned to Stelle.

A small army of malfunctioning robots approached them, threatening to attack the camp they were defending.

(S/O) "Hmph, there's too many to take them on individually."

She turned to him, eyes finally widening in surprise.

(Stelle) "Wait, you don't mean?-"

(S/O) "We have no choice! Launch me, just like how I taught you!"

(Stelle) "You can't just defy the laws of physics whenever you want-"

(S/O) "We have no time to argue, JUST DO IT!"

Stelle had performed some crazy plans in her time aboard the Astral Express, but-

Stelle took a deep breath and mimicked the crane stance, her baseball bat still in hand.

(Stelle) "CHOKYO!"

S/O went down on one knee, extending their fists.

(S/O) "HAOH!"

The two struck a dramatic pose in unison, exactly as how S/O's master had taught them.

(Both) "DEN'EIDAN!"

(S/O) "STELLE, FIRE!"

Stelle took a deep breath before swinging with all her might, with S/O suddenly leaping into the air, using her bat as a jumping point.

S/O roared out in fury, their mech spinning rapidly and turning into a tornado of red, blue, and yellow, blitzing a line through the robots, creating a single line of destruction.

Finally, S/O's mech flew up into the air, struck another pose with their feet and fists extended to one direction as if they were doing a flying kick.

(S/O) "ERUPT!"

On command, the entire army detonated at once, creating a beautiful ball of destruction as the dust cloud soared into the air, S/O slowly floating down next to Stelle.

(S/O) "HAHA! BEHOLD THE POWER OF THE SCHOOL OF MASTER ASIA!"

Stelle looked blankly at S/O, then back to the army they had destroyed together.

(Stelle) "...It's probably best I stop asking questions, isn't it?"

(S/O) "Yes!"

Oh Aeons above, S/O was a horrible influence on the kids.

Natasha does not have the mental capacity to deal with their insanity they brought with their mech onto the planet.

Hook and the others thought that S/O and their mech was the coolest thing they had ever seen.

The flashy red, blue, yellow, and white of their suit looked like an action figure.

And their warrior attitude definitely did not help things.

S/O had already made themselves notorious in the fighting club too, adding even more fuel to the fire.

She has to constantly tell the kids to not mimic her S/O.

Natasha loved them, but sometimes she wanted to slam her head against their mech in frustration.

They were great with kids, but seem to grasp no concept on impressionable children actually were.

===

Natasha treated the last of the patient's wounds, waving goodbye to them as they left.

She leaned back into her chair, taking a deep breath and finally relaxing.

Natasha opened one eye and saw that S/O's mech was standing completely still, clearly unmanned.

(Natasha) "...Strange, where is-"

She heard the kids all grunting in unison outside the window.

(Natasha) "...Oh no."

She leapt off her chair at a speed that startled some of the people inside.

Opening the door, she found Seele already approaching the clinic.

(Seele) "Nat, the kids!-"

(Natasha) "I know!"

She rushed past Seele, who quickly joined her as they rushed towards an open part of the courtyard.

S/O was standing in front of a large group of children, all mimicking their actions.

(S/O) "Put your heart into every swing! Your fists are the only way to convey how you feel!"

(Hook) "Yes, teacher!"

(Child) "S/O, do you think your Master could teach us too?!"

(S/O) "Hah! My Master would appreciate your enthusiasm, but-"

(Natasha) "S/O!"

S/O froze in fear, as did the rest of the children as every single one of them rushed to hide behind S/O.

Natasha sighed, looking at the kids, then back to her lover.

(Natasha) "What in the world are you doing?"

(S/O) "...Exercising-"

(Seele) "Really? Is that what you call it?"

(Hook) "S-S/O said they would show us the Erupting Burning-"

(Natasha) "Absolutely not! S/O, the clinic, NOW."

Seele took the kids behind her as Natasha dragged S/O out of sight.

(Child) "...Will they be alright?"

(Seele) "I don't think they will be, no."

...

(S/O) "Nat-"

(Natasha) "Do not Nat me! What are you thinking, teaching the kids such a violent move!?"

(S/O) "W-Well, I can't exactly say no to them-"

(Natasha) "Do I know it, S/O, but I don't need parents telling me their kids were trying to blow up something with their bare hands!"

(S/O) "...But I do it with the-"

(Natasha) "Don't you dare finish that sentence! If I find you trying to teach the kids your crazy moves again, I will make you explode next."

The Mech's head moved and stared at Natasha.

(Natasha) "AND YOU'LL BE FIRST IF YOU LET THE KIDS GET ANYWHERE NEAR YOU."

Both the mech and S/O stepped back in fear.

Honestly, S/O couldn't decide whether their master or Natasha was scarier.

...Probably Natasha.

[starheirxero]

After revisiting your "came back wrong" comic, absolutely wonderful btw, I came to a rather haunting realization.

Because it became true. But instead of Bloodmoon, it's Eclipse. And that's both much worse(for the characters), and much better(for the narrative).

Because both him and Lunar went through the same, and in a way seem to parallel each other, though that's probably me overthinking.

Both of them died. Both of them were blown to smithereens. Both of them came back after several months. Both found themselves in a body not their own. We've seen what they look like in every other universe.

Both of them came back wrong.

Lunar came back numb, quieter than before, with all their energy being a play. He came back running from unknown danger. They died a normal animatronic, and came back being more.

Eclipse is the opposite. He came back louder, erratic, full of madness. Where Lunar is running from unknown danger, he is sprinting towards it, not realizing the consequences until it's to late. Not to forget the star. Eclipse died being somewhat of a god, and came back as nothing more than a plaything, a puppet on a string.

In a twist of fate, they can relate best to each other now, and that might be the worst part for both of them.

Because what is there to do? Even though they understand, even though, one day, they might glance at each other and wonder "Do you feel the same?", they will never be able to confide in each other. Their relationship is beyond repair, and for good reason. Eclipse hurt Lunar, used and ab*sed him, and then blew him up.

This also opens up so much emotional baggage. What will Lunar think? Will he wonder "Do you regret what you did now, knowing how it felt?" Will a part of him feel the smallest bit of satisfaction? Will they ever be able to look at him at all, or will they forever hide away?

What about Eclipse? Will he feel guilty? He seems aware of the damage he has caused the celestial twins, even telling Ruin that he deserves what's coming for him, but he still showed no remorse when he talked to them.

I'm sorry this got so long, I am incredibly emotional about this right now, and I can't even begin to describe, how this makes me feel-

ANON OH MY GHOD /POS

DID YOU KNOW YOU HAVE THE BIGGEST FUCJING BRAIN EVER. DID YOU KNOW YOU'VE CONNECTED THE MOST PERFECT DOTS KNOWN TO MAN. HOLY SHIT.

LUNAR CAME BACK AS MORE AND ECLIPSE CAME BACK AS LESS BUT BOTH CAME BACK WRONG AAIAUAUAYAGAGGGHHHHHH

[sunatsubu]

Jayvik and time paradoxes

I can't stop thinking about Jayce/Viktor. They're driving me insane, absolutely INSANE. Because everything about them is a time paradox??

This is pretty rambly, I'm just trying to get my thoughts down in my attempt to stop going crazy over them and also just figure out what the heck happened because I'm still kind of confused about some stuff, also I am not very familiar with game lore, mainly just the show.

They circle each other and are so intrinsically linked in so many ways, being both cause and effect to each other's fates. Starting at a random point that ends up circling all the way back:

Jayce and Viktor invent Hextech

Jayce gets drawn into politics as a result, away from Viktor

Viktor gets desperate, experiments with hextech on himself, with Consequences (Sky)

Viktor asks Jayce to destroy hextech

Jayce, unable to let Viktor die after Jinx's attack, fuses him with it instead

This leads to Machine Herald viktor, but not quite; like Pre-herald I guess? Where Viktor still retains some humanity

Jayce gets told by alternate Viktor to stop him from becoming the Herald

In his attempt to do so, he kind of causes/hastens it instead?! (more thoughts on this below*)

alternate Herald Viktor regrets everything and saves baby Jayce/gives him the runestone**

Jayce grows up wanting to research magic thanks to mage Viktor, and cue s1 events that end up circling back to the first point**

*I can't stop thinking about how kind and gentle Viktor seemed when he was trying to help Vander. It really seemed like he was on a path to using his new powers for good, without any sinister effects (though maybe I missed some hints, need to rewatch). It wasn't until after Jayce blew his heart to smithereens that he seemed to start on that path of deeming emotions and humanity unnecessary, solidified when Jayce rejected him to join him as partners again.

**Still trying to wrap my brain around these last two. The existence of alternate Herald Viktor that brings our Jayce to his destroyed world in order to ask him to stop our Viktor - does this imply that Viktor would have still become Machine Herald even if Jayce hadn't tried to kill him? Was it an inevitable thing? Or is this still more time paradox shenanigans, where Viktor asking Jayce to stop/kill his younger self, is both the cause and effect of Herald Viktor? And yet another paradox, Viktor inspired baby Jayce to research magic and ultimately invent Hextech, which is what was needed for Machine Herald Viktor to come to pass. So it seems like there are actually 2 paradoxes related to the creation of Herald Viktor/apocalypse post Viktor's revolution.

These time paradoxes defining their existences makes me think they weren't supposed to exist. Or at least, the ways they so significantly affected the world, weren't supposed to come to pass; Hextech, Viktor's Revolution, apocalypse. So while their ending breaks my heart into a million pieces, it makes a lot of sense. In order to cancel out what they'd do to the world (or just Piltover? this is another point I'm curious about, did viktor's revolution affect ALL of humanity?), they had to erase themselves from existence. It's so. romantic and tragic, but not really on both those counts? Like somehow deeper, too deep, to put such simple labels on. Honestly I don't even really know how to describe what their story makes me feel.

Bit of a tangent, but one interesting anomaly is the alt timeline Ekko was in. So Jinx would always be an important factor in Jayvik's fates since her attack almost killing Victor is the catalyst for a lot of things. Mage Victor says Jayce is the one thing across all timelines that could stop him, implying there are MANY timelines where Herald Viktor comes to be. Which thus means in all those timelines, Jinx is the unstable mess we know and love, the one who would attack the council. So that makes it interesting (and kinda gutting because its like Jinx is destined to suffer in most timelines) that Ekko's alt timeline was most likely rare in its stability, where despite Vi being gone, Powder is relatively happy and the world (Piltover/Zaun) is quite peaceful.

This is a seemingly random segueway, but Jayvik very strongly reminded me of the german show Dark. (WARNING FOLLOWING IS MAJOR SPOILER FOR THAT SHOW)

A completely different genre and story, but both are about two people whose destinies are so linked together throughout time and alternate universes, but weren't supposed to exist. And they could only save the world, allow it to go on untouched from the devastating effects they would have on it, by taking themselves out of the equation.

[kaminokatie]

First Kiss || The Bad Batch

Synopsis - Your first kiss with the members of The Bad Batch.

Warnings - SFW.

Word Count - 1.5k.

[Caffeinate Me]

HUNTER had saved your skin yet again. It was becoming a regular thing now, Hunter saving you from yourself. So-much-so that if you had made up a tally of all the times Hunter had saved you, you’d definitely be in double digits. You sighed a sigh of relief and turned around to thank him, only to be met with his lips on yours. You ‘hmphed’ into the kiss as you were taken by surprise, only for Hunter to press his lips further into you, deepening the kiss. When Hunter showed no signs of pulling away from you, you relaxed into his body and your eyes fluttered closed. The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, kissing with pure need, almost as if your lives depended on it. When he pulled away, Hunter grinned at you and gave you a sly wink forcing your face to heat up. “What was that for?” You asked, smiling widely. 

“Just think of it as an incentive to stop you from almost dying on me all the time,” Hunter replied as he moved his body away from yours and turned his attention back to the mission at hand. “There’s more where that came from if you stay alive.” 

“Sir, yes sir,” you saluted, watching as he walked away with a dumb smile on your face. 

CROSSHAIR sat in the corner of his barracks on Kamino as Omega and the other members of The Batch came up with an escape plan. He placed his head in his hands as he tried to process the situation. The newly formed Galactic Empire had left you all to die on Kamino as they blew the place to smithereens, after all he’d done for the Empire so far and this is how they repay him? You excused yourself from The Batch and sat down next to Crosshair in the corner, your eyes heavy with sadness. “If we don’t make it out of this, I want you to know that despite everything, I still love you,” you whispered, without looking at him. Crosshair was taken back by your statement and looked at you with confusion, his heart fluttering in his chest. He had tried to kill you and you were saying that you loved him? He couldn’t quite process what was going on as you scooted up to sit next to him, your knees touching. Throwing caution to the wind, you quickly cupped his face in your hands and kissed him softly, closing your eyes as you melted into his lips. For a few seconds, it was nice to pretend like your life wasn’t in danger and that Crosshair wasn’t the bad guy. He thought for a moment before kissing you back, his lips moving in tandem with your own easily as his hands went to rest on your hips. When you pulled away, you stared into Crosshair's eyes hoping that you had gotten through to him with your kiss. 

“That was nice,” he mumbled softly, his gaze dropping down from your eyes to your lips. You nodded in response before standing up and making your way back over to The Batch to talk about an escape plan. Crosshair was even more conflicted now: does he continue being a good soldier and follow orders, or does he leave the Empire to be with you?

TECH watched as you fumbled around the cockpit, unsure of what to do. You had never been techy and weren’t very good at helping repair the ship so you often just pottered around. You weren’t exactly sure what you brought to The Batch sometimes and it often left you feeling rather insecure. “Y/N, just leave the repairs to Echo and I,” Tech huffed. “Things will go a lot smoother if you don’t mess around.”

“I’m sorry Tech,” you mumbled. You sat down in the pilot's seat and looked on as Tech continued the repairs needed. You were fascinated by his curious mind and the way he worked, you couldn’t deny that. 

“Y/N?” Tech asked. “Are you okay? You’re staring at me. Is something wrong?” You snapped back into reality at Tech’s voice and blushed before looking away, mumbling a ‘sorry’ under your breath. 

Tech stopped his repairs, eyes narrowing on you as he focused his attention to your bouncing leg. He walked over to you and held out his hand for you to take, which reluctantly you did. You were pulled to your feet and flushed dangerously close to Tech’s body. You looked deep into his eyes as he searched yours for any signs of resistance. When you didn’t move away from him, Tech took it upon himself to slowly and shakily lean in and graze his lips softly against yours. His eyes remained open as he watched the emotions flash across your face. When you closed your eyes and leaned into the kiss, Tech did the same, finally feeling comfortable. When you pulled away from Tech’s lips, you breathed heavily out of embarrassment. “What was that for?” You asked dreamily. 

“You looked distracted. I was simply just trying to help you,” Tech cleared his throat and watched as you nodded before turning his attention back to the repairs at hand. You stood still, as if frozen, for a few seconds with your fingers trailing across your lips. He was right, you were distracted, but now you were even more distracted than before.

ECHO had been insecure ever since his rescue from Skako Minor. He often found himself thinking about what his life would have been like had he not been a Separatist project, and sometimes he even found himself wishing he had died at the Citadel. Echo found himself unable to sleep and quietly got up and made his way into the cockpit, hoping to keep himself busy with something to do on the ship. He had been so engrossed in what he was doing, he hadn’t heard your tiny footsteps following him. “Echo, are you okay?” You asked, sleepily rubbing your eyes. 

Echo turned to look at you, his face white. He looked as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t. When he realised it was just you, he nodded and smiled softly. “I just can’t sleep,” he replied. “What are you doing up?” He asked, tilting his head to the side. 

“Heard you get up,” you mumbled. “Wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

“I’m fine,” he whispered back. You found yourself walking up to him and wrapping your arms around his waist, something you did regularly when the two of you were alone. Echo felt his heart hammer against his chest and you turned him around to face you. Without thinking, Echo leaned into your touch and sighed happily. Whenever you were around, he always felt complete. “You should go back to sleep.”

“Not without you,” you smiled up at him. Echo was about to protest but you pressed your lips to his softly, silencing him. His eyes went wide when he realised your lips were on his, but he was quick to relax as your lips began to move against his own. His lips, like his body, were cold to the touch, but you were quick to warm them up. Your tongue ran along his bottom lip and Echo felt his face set on fire. When you finally pulled away, you gave Echo a grin and pecked his lips once more. “Let’s get some sleep, eh?” 

WRECKER watched as you cleaned the ship. You weren’t much useful on missions so you made yourself useful back on the ship by doing ‘housework’. Wrecker admired you as you continued your cleaning spree, watching the way your eyes narrowed and your lips pursed as you grumbled about the dust around you. “I literally cleaned this space two days ago!” You cried loudly, scrunching your nose up. Wrecker chuckled at your reaction and smiled at your cuteness. When you had finished dusting, you turned to Wrecker to ask for some assistance when you slipped over something on the floor and landed flat on his lap. You looked up at him with wide eyes, absolutely mortified. “Wrecker, I’m so sorry!” 

“Don’t be,” Wrecker laughed loudly, his hands resting on your hips. 

Everything, from that moment, happened in slow motion. You found yourself staring into his eyes before slowly closing the gap between your faces. You weren’t sure what had come over you, but you kissed Wrecker slowly, earning a groan from the giant clone. He immediately kissed you back passionately as your lips met, something he had been dying to do for weeks now. You sat up on his lap pushing your lips further against his, desperate for more. Wrecker chuckled into your lips before he pulled away leaving you completely breathless. With his hands still planted firmly on your hips, Wrecker helped you stand up. “T-Thank you,” you whispered softly, biting your bottom lip. 

“Don’t mention it,” Wrecker smiled at you. You sighed before bending down to pick up what you had fallen over: Lula. Wrecker’s eyes widened when he saw his stuffed toy in your hand and grinned. “My Lula!” 

You chuckled and passed Lula to Wrecker with a soft smile on your lips. Wrecker thanked you with another quick kiss before pulling away and walking to his bunk, leaving you standing there dumbfounded. Your fingers traced your lips as you watched Wrecker walk away cuddling Lula and you felt your heart flutter. You hoped you’d get another opportunity to kiss him again.

[queenofbaws]

"i missed hearing your voice.." Jossam post game? I hope things are going alright

He told himself that he wasn't worried, that he'd pulled off crazier stunts than this without breaking a sweat. The ball was in his court, after all, and even if he didn't have the home team advantage as he parked his car and stepped out onto her driveway (salt crunching under his feet like grit from the mines), other advantages abounded: he looked pathetic, for one, bruised like an overripe summer peach; he'd had time to run his lines, for another, drafting before refining, refining before editing, editing before finalizing, finalizing before practicing, practicing, practicing.

Even now, as he carefully climbed the steps to her front door, setting a little more weight than usual against the side rail (he'd landed strangely when he'd fallen into the vent shaft, and all the kings horses and all the kings men hadn't quite been able to figure out how or why he'd managed to fuck that muscle group up in such a particular fashion), he worked through the script in his head:

Hi there, long time no see! I was in the neighborhood, thought I'd check in...I think maybe you forgot to pay your phone bill this month - the damn thing just rings and rings when I call, no answer, no voicemail, nothing. Hey, look, don't sweat it, I don't even care that you kinda-sorta blew the lodge to smithereens, that's what we've got insurance for, know what I mean? What's a little property damage between friends? Oh, quick question while I have you: You don't, ha ha ha, hee hee hee, hoo hoo hoo, I don't know, hate me, do you?

But before he could so much as knock, Sam opened the door and his oh-so-brilliant plan crumbled into so much dust.

She had that effect on him. Always had.

Why hadn't he planned for that?

There was a beat where they simply stood like that, opposite one another in a hundred separate ways, her arms folded despite being on the warmer side of the threshold, his open wide despite the cold, both of them posturing, posturing, posturing as if they could fix the problem through body language alone.

Josh wet his lips. Forgot his lines. "Hi." There. Hi there. That was what he'd practiced, that was what he'd written, that was part of the plan that would endear him to her again. It wouldn't come out, though, couldn't squeeze its way through the pinhole of his throat, not now that she was actually looking at him, not now that they were close enough for him to smell her fabric softener and see the butterfly bandage holding that cut over her eyebrow together.

He tried again, took it from the top as Dad would say...and failed just as spectacularly. "I, uh, hi."

Sam's entire body seemed to move with her breath, drawing up on the inhale, folding over on the exhale. She was tired, he saw, she was so, so tired - and all because of him. "What do you want, Josh?" she asked, the question smooth and unhalting, improvised but earnest.

He hadn't considered that. Hadn't planned on a question. He hadn't practiced any answers, hadn't drafted a line of banter that would come across as suitably apologetic while still being rakish and playful, and -

And...

And.

And, God help him, it all just came out.

"I wanted to see you," he said, the rush of blood in his ears deafening him to his own voice, filling his head with panicked radio static. "I know I'm the last person you want to see, but...you weren't answering your phone, you weren't answering your messenger, you weren't answering your email - holy shit, Sammy, I almost picked up a pencil to write you an actual hand-to-God letter, but I was worried you'd throw it in the shredder as soon as you saw my name, and there'd go my seventy-three cents of postage. In this economy, I - "

Her eyebrows went up. His stomach sank into his feet.

He tried again.

"Look, I...I know you don't want to talk to me. If I were you, I wouldn't want to talk to me either, but...but you don't have to talk. You don't have to say a word to me if you don't want, you can close the door in my face right here, right now, and I'll get it, I really will, but I just..." His throat was a desert. He swallowed hard, found his words cracking anyway. "I miss hearing your voice. I miss seeing you. I...I miss everything about you, and I know the only person to blame for that shit is me, but I don't know how to fix it, so..." Out went his arms again, a pathetic mimicry of himself, a gesture as hollow as it was familiar. "I'm open to suggestions."

Sam took another breath, her shoulders rising then falling, her gaze never flinching, and something in the shape of her mouth, the jut of her hip, convinced him that he'd been right, that she was only a second away from slamming the door in his face, turning the latch so hard he'd be able to hear it click. After what he'd put her through - after what he'd put them all through - it was what he deserved, what he had coming, what he'd brought down on himself, what he'd -

"You should probably start by coming in, then," she sighed, finally dropping her eyes from his as she held the door open, making space for him to step inside. "My list's a little too long to go through with the wind blowing like that - trust me, I've timed it."

"I bet you have, Sammy," he said as he took that first step onto the mat, his eyes prickling from the warmth of her house and something else, something he wasn't quite willing to let himself believe yet. "And I'm all ears."

[shivroygirls]

remembering how angry it made me when kendall said "can pinky dance?" and then how shiv blew up his dream job and his entire life purpose to smithereens. fuck you kendall, "can pinky dance?" yes she fucking can, fuck you

[chibifox2002]

Little Spec of Seafoam

IT TOOK ME SEVEN HOURS TO WRITE THIS!!!

(note: I'm not good at grammar and stuff, so this might be typed weird. But regardless I hope y'all enjoy my attempt at writing)

((also I might end up writing BPC ooc because I'm still learning about the characters and their personalities so I apologize in advance. I'm solely going off of the vibes I got from her in cosmicwhoreo's posts 😅))

Fic under cut 👇👇👇

...

She had done it.

She didn't know how. But she'd done it.

Seafoam Cookie used those damn sea bandit's tricks against them, lit every single batch of dynamite they had (for some reason) and sunk their ship. Blew it into smithereens and, from the looks of it, left not a thing nor living being intact. They weren't gonna take her things without facing the consciences.

She didn't care about the sea they were all near either, she'd rather deal with the legendary sea witch than some pathetic land cookies.

As Seafoam Cookie looked around, she saw bits and chunks of the ship she had just sunk slowly sink around her like snowflakes during a snowstorm.

"Dang... I really did some damage..."

She wondered how she was able to breathe and speak, and then wondered how deep she had already sunk. It was surprisingly difficult for her to tell at that moment...

Then she heard something.

The sound of something... big, swimming by her.

Seafoam had looked down towards the dark depths, when a pair of giant piercing blue eyes appeared in the dark. Then the eyes began moving up, the sunshine leaking from the surface revealing a familiar looking pearl and crown from the stories she had overheard throughout her wandering...

The legendary sea witch, Black Pearl Cookie, was there before her. Her hands on her hips, and a puzzled, yet angered look on her face.

Seafoam Cookie froze, her stomach dropping.

"And what do we have here...?"

She spoke in an intimidating tone.

"It seems that this little thing has lost her little crew~..."

Seafoam paused.

Oh heck no.

If she's going down, she REFUSED to be thrown in the same group as those... t-those... TRASHY LAND COOKIES!

"OH HECK NO!"

Black Pearl jumped slightly at the sudden shout.

"I AIN'T AFFILIATED WITH THOSE PATHETIC EXCUSES OF LAND COOKIES! I'D RATHER BE GROUPED WITH ACTUAL TRASH!"

Black Pearl was absolutely baffled. "But... You're a land cookie as well..." she said, confused.

"Pfft- Please! At least I KNOW I'm trash!" Seafoam replied with a puff. "Some of those guys act like they're rulers of the world or something! Taking what they want, saying what they want, HURTING WHO THEY WANT! It ticks me off!" Seafoam ranted.

"The only reason I was on their ship in the first place was because they took my bag with all my stuff in it! AND NOW IT'S GONE!..." She fell silent, crossing her arms, angry that she couldn't get what was hers back. She could feel tears trying to escape her eyes, despite being underwater.

Black Pearl was silent. Looking at the girl as a sense of deja vu crept up her back.

This small girl... This land cookie... She shared the same anger as her. The same feeling of betrayal in her heart... and judging by the clear hatred she had for her own kind, she beared a similar, if not the same, heartbreak as the sea witch as well...

She thought for a bit... Then acted.

She brought a hand up to cup the child in, keeping her from sinking further, and brought her closer to her face. Noticing that she had a similar looking blue right eye as herself, and that her left eye was nothing more than an unfixable hole on her head with two nasty looking scars going down her cheek and ending close to her mouth.

Something about that angered her... For some reason...

"Well, normally I wouldn't do something like this... But it seems that you share some of the same feelings as I do." Black Pearl began to swim towards the sea's surface as she spoke.

"So it would be rude of me to do with you as I do the others."

Seafoam Cookie looked at the giant sea woman as she spoke, remembering the tales she'd overheard. About how apparently someone had stolen something from her as well. She always wondered what it was that was taken from her... She was almost tempted to ask, but decided against it due to just meeting the mermaid. She herself wouldn't share that information with someone she'd just met after all, so why would Black Pearl?

She was brought back from her deep thought at the sound mermaid's voice.

"I've decided to let you go with your life." Black Pearl said calmly. "Call this a foolish decision, but I assume you will not speak of this moment to anyone else, yes?"

"You have my word on that!" Seafoam responded. "I doubt anyone would believe a "street urchin" like me anyways." She continued, making heavy quotation marks with her hands at the childish yet cruel title some of the most ignorant adult cookies had given her.

Black Pearl hummed. "Well, regardless of what those fools think about you, I want you to live proudly with the fact that not only did you face the vicious sovereign of the Duskgloom Sea and leave with your life intact, but you have also impressed her with the amount of destruction you have caused to that pesky ship that had trespassed into my waters! Why... I have never seen such a small cookie reduce a ship of that size into nothing but boards and splinters before!"

Seafoam smiled and scratched the back of her head in embarrassment, not used to being praised or complemented. "Ah jeez... Thank you, your highness!... Uh... That's the correct way to address you, right?"

"It'll do, child..."

....

After what felt like mere seconds later, Seafoam Cookie was floating away towards the land where she came from on a spare wooden chunk from the destroyed ship, made into a makeshift boat with a sail, oars and all.

She was still confused about the reason why Lady Black Pearl decided to spare her, but she wasn't complaining. Especially since it turned out to be the most pleasant conversation she's had with another being in a while!

As she rowed, she admired the sky. It was sunset now, the stars just started to peek out from the remaining sunlight that was in the sky. The sounds of the ocean's gentle waves starting to lull the girl into drowsiness. She'll keep this day's events close to her heart, despite the fact that it started rather violently.

She looked towards the boat that the mermaid made for her, it wasn't the best craftsmanship she's seen, clearly only used to destroying ships and boats than making them, but it kept her afloat and was making the trip back to land easier. That's all that mattered to her.

Seafoam then put the oars up into the boat and set the sail up, deciding to rest her arms and maybe even get some sleep.

She decided to rest against the sail's mast to sleep. As she sat there, her eyes began to close slowly. Her eyelids feeling like they were being weighed down by anchors.

Before she could succumb to slumber, she noticed something underneath the plank bench she was sitting on.

...Was that...?

No... It couldn't be...

...Right?

She crawled over to the bench and grabbed the object from underneath it...

It was a bag... Her bag.

She undid the latches and flew open the flap and...

It was all there. Everything she had... From her strange trinkets to her precious crafting supplies. The medical kit, the shells she liked, even her hair brush. It was all there.

She couldn't believe it. Did Lady Black Pearl do this? She was the one who made the boat after all. Had she somehow saved her bag and snuck it in while Seafoam was waiting for the boat's completion?

She couldn't keep it in anymore, the intense emotions flooded her entire body, and she cried.

Cried from being treated as an equal instead of a disgusting pest. Internally thanking the mermaid for returning her things and treating her as if she mattered.

She silently hoped she'd encounter her again soon.

She slumped back against the mast and continued to gently cry until she sniffled herself to sleep, feeling happy.

....

Black Pearl Cookie was laid against the large, smooth rock she used as a bed, looking at all the wrecked ships surrounding her. She was proud of this "little" collection she had. Each one served as a symbol of what would become of those who dared enter her seas. No hesitation. No mercy.

... Except for one...

She turned her head towards another rock. One that had a decent sized area jutting from the side of it, perfect to use as a shelf for her more, precious treasures.

Upon it rested a chest where she kept those treasures, and that was normally the only thing there.

But now?

There was something else beside it. Something she took from the little land cookie's bag, and placed it inside something to prevent it from floating away...

An art piece.

An art piece that was made by the girl... Seafoam Cookie, that was the name that was carved into the back... A fitting name, given her seafoam like hair.

It was a wood carving of her, looking as beautiful and powerful as the real deal. With waves crashing and a storm above her head. It was clear that a lot of time and passion had gone into this little thing.

Black Pearl wasn't sure if Seafoam Cookie had intended on giving this to someone, but if so, they could deal with it. She deemed that this was worthy enough to be in her possession along with her treasures.

As to why she decided to place it there? No reason to ponder over. It simply had plenty of space, and it was nice to have something new there.

Black Pearl looked up towards the surface of the sea, the sunlight no longer peeking through due to the time, and thought about that little girl. As she did, she began to wonder what kind of person she'd become. She wasn't sure why she was thinking about this, considering she doesn't do the whole "fondness" thing with people.

"Such a strange little spec of seafoam..." She thought to herself.

"Perhaps I should keep an eye on that little one..."