#I'm sO excited to write with you!

[hopeful-hellion]

@jadesigners continued from here X

Jackie's gaze was fixed on the shelf adjacent, looking for something sweet. They'd been hoping to find carrot cake or cheesecake that day but alas, the bakery had been sold out. So it looks like it was gonna be gummy worms this time. Shrugging to themselves, they pick up the bag and turn....walking right into someone. "Shit!" They manage to slow the fall just enough that they don't land on anything important. "I-I'm okay, thanks." They hop to their feet quickly. "Are you?"

[csaladanya]

"you're the nurse." tabitha's approach is direct and to-the-point, obvious; she's not great at small talk and even had to internally debate with herself on approaching for several long-winded minutes before she finally made it to medical. she's a bit awkward, standoffish as she looks at the woman, her eye-contact fleeting.

"how strict are the regulations about medication? as in, do you happen to have something that works for, like, headaches?"

"i am."

anya's own response is unsure, as if questioning herself and her own position upon prompting. she eyes tabitha as she stands in front of her—watching her completely avoid eye contact has anya doing the same, focusing on the cabinets on the wall behind her.

"pony express isn't very generous with their medicine stocks, but i have a limited supply of mid-strength paracetamol. we don't have things like cough medicine—but we do have oxycodone. it's kind of ... all over the place, i guess."

[yuuchama]

The easiest way to find Sebek is to walk around the Night Raven campus, going "where's my Sebek?"

It elicits odd stares and plenty of snickers from the other students, but it gets the job done. You'll know when he's nearby. After repeating this phrase enough times and in multiple places around campus, you'll hear a familiar thundering cry.

"I am not your Sebek!"

The shout is eventually followed by the man himself. You can tell what direction he's in by the heavy stomps, thudding against the ground almost as loud as his voice. His frown is as sharp as his furrowed brows. The slight tinge of embarrassment colors his face.

"Human! How dare you..."

The familiar face makes you smile with joy. "There you are! There's my Sebek."

He falters. It's clear he has so much to say, but can't find the right words to get out first. They pile up in his mouth while he stammers. You fear you may have traumatized him until the verbal barrage bursts out like a dam.

"How dare you! You know I serve none other than the great heir to Briar Valley. To even imply that I am yours? A mere human's? Inconceivable! Your absurdity knows no bounds!"

He sounds as energetic as ever. You decide to interrupt the angry monologue before he really gets going.

"Sebek, I wanted to know if we're still having lunch together."

"To insult the very essence of my being! As if you..."

It takes a hot second for your inquiry to reach his ears, but when he catches it, the rambling drifts off. He grows oddly quiet. He balls his hands into fists and unclenches them several times in quick succession, testing the limits of his uniform gloves. This would already have delved into a physical fight if you were any other student.

Despite your inane actions, you're practically harmless. Any great guard should easily be able to ignore petty taunts. It's best to consider this a test. Sebek clears his throat.

"Of course we are. You didn't have to come find me just for that. I always keep my word." The redness of his ear tips peeking out from under his hair remind you of a Christmas tree.

"Great! Can't wait."

You stick out your hand for a parting high five. Sebek subverts expectations by grabbing your palm. His gloves are warm and a little sweaty after rushing to find you, and his grip is anything but soft in a boyish display of dominance.

"Do not do this again," he says. He's stern, but after that warning his voice drops to a normal level and he sounds almost gentle. "Just... text me, like a normal person. You have my number."

[wardingshout]

Travelling for Day 4 of SpeSilverWeek! going to Mt. Silver to visit "the extended family"...

[hazelnootnut]

ACT 2 "You're... me?" "That's right, stardust!"

You know I've been drawing Loop as their Siffrin form so much that it's got me thinking. I've read and seen so many fics and artworks of Loop eventually getting back to looking like their old self, but I don't think I've seen any so far of Loop already being a mirror copy of Siffrin. So uh, yoink?

ISAT AU where the game plays out the same way (plot-wise at least) but Loop looks like Siffrin the whole time and while Siffrin is extremely perplexed that there's another him, he's still gotta accept their help because how else are they supposed to escape the loops? Good ol' Loop is here to help, helpful friendly Loop!

Siffrin is going through it still but Differently.

[verridaiya]

—Dream Blooms

"I've seen you there, before."

This fic was born from watching Sylus's Abyssal Blossom card and watching my heart break into a million pieces. It hurt, but then I realized you know who hasn't been hurt by it? Sylus.

Based on the prevailing theory/my headcannons that the Abyssal Blossom card was just a dream, brought on by MC's yearning for a normal, quiet life after the events of Beyond Cloudfall chapter 7.

Synopsis: Sylus invites himself over to take care of you while you're sick. You tell him about a pleasant dream of yours and proceed to break his heart. (Or, you dream of something you've dreamt before, and Sylus hears about it for the first time.)

Contains: Spoilers for Sylus's Beyond Cloudfall myth and the Abyssal Blossom card, Sylus x MC/reader, gender neutral MC/reader, angst/hurt (the comfort will come later), current timeline Sylus & MC

Word Count: 1.7k

start | Part 2 >

“I had a strange dream again.”

“Another one, sweetheart?”

Sylus’s voice is a soft murmur above you. You open your blurry eyes to a darkened room and a pleasantly warm body under you, wrapped around you. Your head feels as hazy as the moonlight filtering in from the cloudy night sky through the window. Half-awake and half asleep, you can still feel the sensations of your dream like phantom memories. You hum an affirmation, shaking off the vestiges of a medicine-induced sleepiness.

You’re not quite sure how you found yourself in this position: sprawled out on your couch, nestled between a warm blanket and an even warmer Sylus, breathing in the scent of him through your admittedly stuffy nose. The last thing you remember was you laying collapsed on your bed, trying to convince yourself that you’re not sick, you’re just tired from a long week at the Hunter’s Association, and to muster up the energy to find something to eat. And then, suddenly, there was Sylus, filling your doorway as he had filled every part of your life, your thoughts, and now your dreams.

You’ve been having more of those recently, ever since you absorbed the power of another Aether Core almost a year ago. Reality intertwining with illusions, the people in your life woven intricately into a tapestry of dreams. Fragments of memories, glimpses of things that could never be, or never was. Flashing scales underneath glistening waves. Zayne, in a flowing robe you’ve never seen on him before, but looked so right on him. A silent forest, illuminated by starlight. You would wake up yearning for something just out of reach, hands outstretched to capture the essence of something that slips, incorporeal, through your fingers.

This dream was gentle, though. And this time, your hands didn’t need to reach far to grasp the heart of your dreams.

“You were in it this time, Sylus.”

“Oh?” he says, sounding intrigued. “Do tell, kitten.”

You hear him place something on the coffee table—his phone, probably—his attention shifting solely to you. He carefully moves to his side, extricating himself from under you, a large hand propping his head up so he can fully face you.

The soft moonlight illuminates on his face, throwing it into relief. Silvery hair threaded with shadow, a pale complexion half shrouded in darkness, eyes like banked hearths warming you with its glow. Through the haze of your fever, you can almost envision what you saw in your dream. You lift a hand pat his soft hair, as if searching for something that wasn’t there, before trailing your fingers down the side of his face.

“You had something on your head.” No, not exactly on his head. You can’t quite remember. The you in the dream was certain that the something was more a part of him than anything else. You frown slightly. The more you strain to remember the details of it, the more awake you became, and the more it danced out of your grasp. “Something sharp and twisting. Rough. It was beautiful, though. You were beautiful.”

Sylus stares at you with wide eyes you couldn’t decipher in your current state. There’s a spark of something foreign in his eyes.

“And?” he urges on, his deep voice uncharacteristically eager to your ears. He reaches to grab the hand that was holding his face, pressing it gently to him. His thumb rubs against the back of it in small soothing motions. “Can you tell me more about this dream of yours, kitten?”

You grasp at the cotton inside your head, stuffy from sleep and sickness. It takes so much effort, to tease apart the strands and find the wisps of fading dreams. It doesn’t help that you were also fighting off the drowsiness. You try, though, to give him what he’s asking for, as he always does for you.

“We were standing in a lovely field of flowers. They were breathtaking, Sylus. Such a vivid, dazzling red. There was a black spire in the distance, I think.” The spire had stood tucked away in the backdrop of rolling hills, but it was a small detail your mind was stuck on for some reason.

Thinking about that spire again, your mind can almost conjure a clear image of your dream. A lingering feeling of déjà vu washes over you, settling heavy on your chest. You’ve dreamt this before; you feel this with every bone in your body as an unshakeable fact. You’ve seen this obsidian spire before, this sprawling flower field. You know with startling certainty that you’ve had this exact dream before. But when you try to recall when, the feeling dissipates and leaves behind only a phantom sensation and an absence in your memory you cannot comprehend.

Sylus watches as you shake away the remnants of déjà vu. Your brow furrows. You’ve come to be accustomed to his intense stares through the months you’ve known him, but this one was… strange. It was as if he was trying to look deep into the fabric of your soul, even without the use of the Aether Core in his eye. His face remains a blank and indecipherable mask, leaving you with no indication of what he’s thinking of. You wanted to know what was going on in that unfathomable mind of his.

Longing. Trepidation. Yearning, a yearning that aches and makes you want to answer its call. You become distantly aware of emotions trickling into you that weren’t your own. You didn’t realize you were resonating with Sylus until he severed it, the hand holding yours shifting to catch your wrist instead. He leans down to brush his soft lips against it before letting your hand rest gently on your stomach.

“How about you recover from your fever first before you use your evol, sweetie.” He laughs softly, the red-gold brilliance of your evols intertwined fading from your hands.

“Oh, sorry.”

His presence in your mind and by your side was so natural that you weren’t even aware of when you began resonating with him. It seemed like your body responded to your desires even while your mind lagged behind. That brief glimpse into him enabled you to decipher that emotion in his eyes, though you struggle to make sense of it.

It was hope.

“Never apologize to me. What else do you remember?” he asks quietly, before you can puzzle over it further.

You close your eyes, willing the memories of the fleeing dream forward. The golden light of a setting sun. The crisp cold of mountainous air. The feeling of being the only two creatures in the world. And, inexplicably, the feeling of home.

“We were up in the air flying, somehow, before we landed in that blossoming valley. It was unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. I felt like I was in a whole other world. When I turned around to look at you, I saw you sitting there amongst the flowers. Red, like shining rubies. Red like-” you pause, the words at the tip of your tongue. A silhouette appears in your mind’s eye, before it sinks back into the void.

“Red, like rich wine,” you finish, though you know that’s not what you had wanted to say.

When he said nothing, you continued on. “I decorated you with those flowers. We were so carefree, unworried and relaxed. It was just us, no one else, in the valley that was our playground. I think I was teasing you, or maybe you were teasing me. You said something about seeing the other side of things, something taunting. We ended up play-fighting, rolling around and sending petals up in the air.”

You smile, the warmth of the dream enveloping you.

“It felt so real.” You wanted it to be real, this lovely lush field and this gorgeous, monstrous Sylus.

Monstrous?

Startled out of your reverie, you blink open your eyes. No, there is nothing monstrous about Sylus. Not anymore, not since those first few nights that you’ve met him so long ago. Shaking your head slightly to dispel the thought, you turn your head to glance at him, realizing he hasn’t spoken in a while.

His eyes are closed, brows furrowed and drawn tightly together. You’ve seen this expression on his face before, briefly, when he struggles to heal a particularly nasty wound. His body is so tense when you reach out to him, muscles taut and rigid beneath your fingers. You’re not quite sure he’s even breathing.

“Sylus?”

At your prompting, Sylus sucks in a breath through his teeth and exhales. He opens his eyes and your breath catches. Rich garnet eyes glow in the darkness, twin wine-dark seas drowning in sorrow, regret. Agony.

It is so at odds to the sweetness of your recounted dream that alarm shot through you, temporarily driving away the sleepiness. Seeing the pain in his eyes unsettled you; it didn’t belong on his face at all. Your sluggish brain tries to make sense of what you could have said to have garnered this reaction. Did you say something wrong? Your chest tightens at the thought of hurting him with your words, somehow. You begin to prop yourself up.

Sylus stops you with one gentle hand, pushing you to lay back down. He silently regards you, the silence between you stretching into something delicate.

There are so many things you want to say, to ask and to comfort. Sylus was never one to let his emotions show as openly as they are right now. You want to ask what was wrong, take back your silly little story if all it gave him was pain, even if you didn’t understand why.

But through the jumble of your fever, all that came out of your tired mouth was, “It was just a dream, Sylus.”

He quietly watches you for a few breaths longer. Slowly, he lifts a hand to gently caresses your cheek, holding you as if you were something as fragile as a memory. Leaning down, he brushes his lips against your forehead, soft as a butterfly’s wings, as the petals of a phantom flower.

“You’re right,” he says, with a grief you cannot fathom.

“It was just a dream, sweetheart.” His voice is barely a whisper. “It can be nothing more than a dream.”

[myiliterallyhavenolifegoals]

i'm unwell!!! because in stede's eyes, ned low was right!! ned says "he [ed] only likes you because of your bumbling amateur status" and calls stede blackbeard's "pet" just like izzy did in series 1

so stede steps up as a captain, kills the man who harmed his crew, and suddenly, for once in stede's life, he isn't a joke! the gentleman pirate is taken seriously and welcomed into the pirate community!

and what happens less than 24 hours later? ed calls their night together a mistake, AND LEAVES.

yes, obviously the situation is more nuanced, and these old men are once again struggling to communicate, but i 100% understand why stede went a bit of the rails at the end of episode 7. stede's been so focused on trying to help ed, that he's completely ignored his own ongoing identity crisis and trauma, and after the incident at the academy in series 1, this meltdown was long overdue.

[veevil]

FALLOUT CHERIK AU!!

Since the fish fic is about to be finished, I started working on another cherik AU with the help of the christian minecraft server and got to smash my special interest together with my current hyperfixation!

Charles is a pre-war vault dweller who gets defrosted into the wasteland with no idea on what is going on and Erik is a mercenary, griefing his late wife and children.

Charles slowly loses his spark and faith in humanity after experiencing The Horrors and Erik finds something worth living for and learns how to love again.

The whole AU is basically just the I can fix him/I can make him worse meme.

[pythonmoth]

cw: author is mexican. mention of mexican mafia and cartels. violence. military inaccuracies. a hostage situation. reader is unprofessional and insubordinate (nothing new). price plays favorites. brief mention of a boner (one sentence), nothing explicit nor serious. primary simon x f!reader. poly tf141.

cw: 4.3k

for @outfor-v because your support has been insane and it means a lot to me. thank you 💙

First | Last | Next

It’s been a couple of days since everybody’s been back, and only a few weeks since Simon saw you for the last time at your house. He’s surprised how much better you look; full cheeks, a healthy glow on them, and your eyes alert. With you on his right, Johnny on his left, he feels like he could take over the world. 

He will start with the mission, though. It takes a few days for Kate to get to base, and as soon as they all gather to greet her, her serious face makes everyone sit down. He’s known her for a long time, and Simon’s sure she will outlive every single person in this room, including Price himself. She never takes unnecessary risks but, when she does, Kate always makes it. It doesn’t matter if the team has to rescue her at some point, it’s as if it was part of her plan all along.

Inside of Price’s office, as Kate shuts the blinds, Garrick and Price mutter to each other, legs pressed together. Bickering, as always. To this day, Simon wonders why they even  broke up, if they’re very obviously gone for each other still. “Kyle, John, be quiet. I need to give you all the information because there will be no paperwork on this, and that means no info gets written down. Pay attention.”

“Yes, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am,” Garrick calls, his posture becoming mockingly impossibly straight. Simon sighs internally. Garrick and Price are a pain in his ass, but adding Kate… well. He’s sure she has them eating from the palm of her hand.

“Don’t you ma’am me.”

“Very well, Laswell. This is unlike you, coming to us like this for a secretive mission. What is it?” Price interrupts their little banter, eyes focused on her. “What happened?”

The atmosphere in the room changes as she starts talking. Years ago, they had to deal with Hassan, and the mexican narcos. It had been bad, corrupt and tiring, so Kate doesn’t dwell much on the past, but the way she meets Price’s eyes, Simon knows she remembers very well the day she was taken. Despite being taken hostage that day, Price told them she killed one of them herself, and snapped at him for apologizing. A fierce lady.

Price’s fingers curl on his knee but he nods at her, asking Kate to continue.

“Alejandro is asking for your help. The new cartel is taking control over the immigrants who cross the border, killing those who won’t go with them, and it’s stirring up problems for the Mexican Army, and the Special Forces.” Kate stops for a moment, briefly meeting Price’s eyes again. “Because of the cartels crossfire, innocent citizens are dying. I don’t have much information on them, but Alejandro has people inside and has found information that links the leader to a few politicians, and Valeria’s old cartel as well.”

“Are you asking us to meddle in mexican politics?” Johnny questions, straightening up on the chair, his face twisting. Simon isn’t sure he’s liking this any better. “If anything goes wrong, videos of our severed heads will be rolling online, and not just from the narcos’ phones.”

“You never sent me your email, by the way.” Simon mumbles, a grin spreading under his mask when Johnny nudges his shoulder.

“No, no politics. Alejandro is requesting our help to capture the leader of the cartel, and nothing else, just like what happened with Valeria back in the day. Whatever happens after that, it’s not our business.” Kate shakes her head, crossing her arms over her chest. “No paperwork, no assistance. Just your weapons and Alejandro’s team.”

It is true that it’s not the first time this team has done things under the radar, and it probably won’t be the last either. Just like Farah, Alejandro has been there for them over the years, so not only Simon knows they would do this for them and more, but also the rest of the team, bickering forgotten as Kate explains the situation.

Capture the leader alive, assist Los Vaqueros and get the hell out of there. It’s not gonna take long, if everything goes according to plan. And so, it’s Johnny who stands up first, nodding. “What are we waiting for? Let’s catch the fucker.”

“This could be messy,” Price hums, rubbing his thumb over his chin. “Not legal at all. We have no jurisdiction, and we won’t have any protection.”

“It’s what you do, John,” Kate huffs. “What’s another war crime? These are our friends. We can’t give them an army, but a couple hands is all they’re asking for.”

“Ready when you are, Kate,” you declare, your hands steady over the table. Simon’s chest puffs a little bit with pride at the determination in your voice. It’s comforting, knowing you aren’t hesitating even though you don’t know the full situation with Alejandro and the mission back in México. He’s a friend, and that’s enough.

It’s not that they didn’t want to tell you, it was just so long ago that they couldn’t be arsed to mention it in full detail anymore. Alejandro has been in contact from time to time so you do know him well —hell, Johnny had been pissed about it for a few weeks—, but the rest of it will have to wait for now.

“What’s the name of the cartel?” Price questions, moving to light up a cigar. Simon can tell his mind is starting to spin, to plan. “Who are we dealing with?”

“Las Sombras.”

Despite being forced to wait a full week while Kate gets everything in order for them to finally travel to México and aid Alejandro, they aren’t lazy at all. With the info of a group of innocent people being held hostages by terrorists a few states away, they all move quickly. 

Simon’s ears are as sharp as his eyes are, and he doesn’t miss the tension in Price’s tone when he orders you to stay back, and provide help from base. To nobody’s surprise, your eyebrows shoot up, your lips curling in anger but you still nod, taking his orders without much obvious reluctance. You turn your back on Price, moving to grab Simon’s arm to take him away, needing a moment. You drag him to his room, no words coming from you as your fingers reach for the skull mask sitting over his desk.

The first time that happened, was the night you got here. 

He had been wearing a black mask because he knew you were coming that night, and because it was something you two discussed a while ago when he was at your home. Seeing you again made him smile, removing the mask once you were alone in his room, and the hug he received from you… heaven on earth, really.

“Where is it?” you mumbled against his neck, your lips brushing just slightly against his skin. Your breath was warm, and it was making him sleepy in your arms.

“Hm?” Simon had hummed, his fingers running along your skin, caressing and feeling. He could feel your goosebumps, and he’d never been happier. He pulled you even closer, pretending like he didn’t understand what you wanted. Delaying the conversation was the only thing he could do.

“The mask.”

“What mask?”

“Simon.”

He sighed, sitting up from where he was laying with you to dig into the drawers. The balaclava was coarse to the touch, even more so after that day, even if he had washed it until the skull started to fall off —if he tried to bite it off, that’s his business—, but nothing could erase what he did. What they all did to you.

“Why? I can buy another one. A different one.”

“No. Just… let me.” With a shaky hand, you reached out for it. You were quiet for a moment, staring at the mask, weighting it, your thumbs brushing against the fibers. It was only after ten whole minutes, which Simon did count in his mind, that you looked up at him. “Okay. Come here.”

“What? No. You’re insane. You’re doing well. I can’t, and you shouldn’t.” He protested, shaking his head in disbelief, and your wobbly smile did little to reassure him, but when you got on your knees, sitting between his legs, he just froze. He was terrified. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m fine.” Despite your reassurance, Simon kept a gentle hand on your left hip, grounding you, and grounding himself, half-prepared for a fight, or for you to freak out.

Sitting very still, Simon didn’t look away from you as you gently slid down the skull balaclava over his face. Your hands shook, body recoiling slightly, but as soon as his eyes were visible again, you tried to find them, focusing on them. It was nerve cracking, staring at you in silence, expecting you to shoot him or kick his balls —and with zero plans on avoiding it. 

When you said nothing for whole ten heartbeats of his, he just couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “You’re safe, lovie. It’s me.” For a painful moment, you were radio silent, kneeling in front of him as if your thoughts were far, far away from inside the walls of his room. “Sweetheart? You with me?”

A deep huff left his chest as you tackled him to the bed, your body shaking, refusing to look at the balaclava, but also not letting go of his neck. That first night you slept right against him, the skull mask forgotten at some point of the night, tugged off just so he could feel your skin against his cheeks.

After that, everytime he has to do something, train the recruits, scold somebody, or just go to work out, you’re the one putting the mask on and then taking it off at night. He doesn’t bother questioning it, because he knows why you find it necessary; and in all honesty, if you said it would be better if he didn’t use a mask at all anymore, he would drop it. His face is plenty scary anyways.

Now with the skull balaclava resting over his face, he lifts it just enough to kiss your forehead, hoping it eases your nerves. “Stay in touch. We’re a team, it doesn’t matter if you have to stay back this time.”

“It matters. Price is doing this on purpose.”

“He is. But take it easy, he’s already pushing it by letting you be part of the mission from here, and you know it.” Meeting your eyes, he fears you’ll get mad at him, but you only nod, biting your tongue.

Watching you say goodbye to Garrick, full lips on lips and a soft smile, makes his heart give a warm tug —and squeeze with envy too. Johnny has it worse than him, though, getting a side hug and a little pat on his cheek. Simon’s aware of the lack of intent from Johnny’s part to fix things directly, including the times the sergeant has cried in front of him and not in front of you, but he can also see the improvement between the two of you. You’re less worried, less scared of him. Of them. And Johnny seems happier.

Price’s not so lucky, however. You barely knowledge his presence, but he takes it with grace, giving you a cheeky nod, before walking away with the rest of them. He finds it amusing, the way you never hesitate to jump on their faces, call them out; even before that day, he never knew peace when it came to you. Only when you were in his arms away from the battlefield did he know what true happiness was, and when Johnny joined right next to you… his little piece of heaven.

Right in his heart, he still burns with shame, regret, and disgust for himself —it’s forever rooted in his soul. Hell, Simon’s never been good taking orders, unless they came directly from Price, but that day his instinct, his heart, everything in him, was screaming, begging him to realize it was wrong. Now, he doesn’t know what to expect. It doesn’t matter if it’s been nearly a year since then, he will never forgive himself for screwing up, for becoming the reason for you to shut down into yourself from time to time. Still, that’s for him to carry and to deal with. You’re the one struggling with it.

Their orders were pretty much easy, if he’s honest. Shoot people with guns on sight, rescue the hostages, protect them, and take them back to base. It was easy. Soap’s not one to shy away from a good fighting, and he will put a bullet through anybody’s brain to do his job with no hesitation, especially if it’s to save people, but he wasn’t expecting the twist in their mission. The minute they got the hostages out, seven of them, he kept wondering why they were so… strangely quiet. Ghost clocked on it instantly as well, but they couldn’t be held back because more people could still come, so they moved quickly.

Sergeant Garrick behind them, keeping their backs secure, and the Capt’n up front making sure it was clear for them to move the refugees out to the van, Soap and Ghost moved quickly, keeping the group safe in the middle like a flock of sheep —just as jumpy as the real thing, too. With heavy steps, hesitant looks, and a whole lot of dragging bare feet along the rough floor, they manage to advance. It was easy. Until it wasn’t.

The first bullet went through his own arm. Everybody panicked, rushing to take cover, and Ghost was first thing next to him, his masked face turned to the refugees as he ordered them to stay down. The next bullet, not even a heartbeat later, made Ghost fall on his back, his helmet steaming. Soap didn’t miss where the shot was coming from this time. Right in the middle of the flock of sheep, one of them had a shit-eating grin plastered on their face, a pistol raised.

The L.T laying on the ground, Gaz and Price moving to take the rest away, Soap raised his gun and made an organic strainer right out of the refugee. No hesitation, his instinct roaring. He only came to his senses when Ghost groaned and stood up, grabbing his arm. Soap had forgotten he got shot as well, but that didn’t matter when he could breathe. Simon was okay.

It didn’t matter as they got to the vans, the refugees telling them what happened; a whole lot more talkative now. Apparently, the man had been with them when the shooting started, and pretended to be one of them to save his ass. That’s why they were so hesitant to speak, why they moved so slowly. Didn’t want to be caught in the middle and didn’t want to get killed if they opened their mouths.

That also didn’t matter when Gaz checked on both of them. The bullet went through his arm, but he was alright for the most part, and the adrenaline didn’t let him feel it, anyway. Simon, however, was fucking annoyed. He got shot because he was careless, because he focused on Johnny instead of the mission, and now they all had to go back to the base after not asking for your help, after the Capt’n didn’t let you come, and hurt.

“She’s gon’ have our heads.” Johnny sighs, staring as the refugees sleep, snoring their fear away. According to them, they’ve been prisoners for a month, so Johnny wasn’t sure when was the last time they slept. Didn’t really want to tell them much, however. “And I’m coming back with a fucked arm.”

“She’ll rip my bloody head off,” Price huffs from behind the wheel, eyes looking forward. Johnny can tell he’s already preparing himself, and they all know it’s not gonna be pretty. “Fucking hell.”

The fact that you could’ve genuinely helped them makes him feel extremely guilty. He’s one of the reasons why you can’t come with them, and he’s here, while you’re forced to stay back. And it’s slowly becoming part of himself, is the thing; he can’t go to sleep and expect a good night, because he’s haunted by it, the guilt chasing away his happy memories and replacing them with shame and regret. Johnny’s stained. Worthless.

“Could’ve been useful here. Another pair of eyes on them. That’s why we’re always together, John.” Gaz isn’t one bit happy, arms crossed and his gaze never fully leaving Johnny.

“Bite me, Kyle. You know damn well why she couldn’t come today.” 

“Well, if you’d told her that, maybe she would’ve understood.” Gaz snaps back, the rumbling in his chest painfully obvious. Johnny and Simon share a look, choosing to stay quiet during their lovers’ spat. “If you didn’t want her to be back yet, you should’ve ignored her petition. You’re the fucking Captain.”

“Yes, I am, Sergeant. Anything else you wanna add? Another decision you wanna question?”

“... No, sir.”

“Thought so.”

At first, it goes well. Simon helps the sleepy refugees out, the lasses guide them to the choppers, and Garrick and Price aren’t talking, but they’re not fighting anymore. Johnny’s next to him, ignoring the wound in his arm, but they’re both calmly walking to the clinic to get treated quickly. This spotless place gives him flashbacks of that day. The beeping of the machines bite at his brain, his eye twitching as the guilt floods him again, and again. It’s ridiculous, really, because he’s been here multiple times, half-dead and filled with grief from his lost mates… but nothing compares to that day. 

Spending time with you made a difference. Your kindness, your understanding, and the lack of anger from your part when you were alone with him helped a lot. Wave after wave of happiness made their way into his heart again, and he could see it again. Your love. 

Inside of Price’s office and with his back to you, Simon doesn’t see you coming down the hall, but he can hear hurried steps and he just knows. Could recognize your footsteps anywhere, even in his sleep. And so they all turn, Simon’s blonde eyelashes fluttering at the sight of you. Safe. 

There’s no love in your eyes this time, however, when your gaze falls on them. Bloody, ragged, Simon’s slightly fucked helmet in his hand, Johnny’s bandaged arm and Garrick’s angry expression in full display. “What the hell happened?” you demand, your entire body shifting to face Price, who’s taking his gear off from behind his desk, pointedly not staring at you. “Johnny— why didn’t you idiots ask for help? I was right here!”

“We tried to, but—” Garrick tries, bullshiting right through his teeth. Simon clenches his jaw, meeting his dark eyes. Wrong move.

“I tried connecting with all of you, and I got nothing but radio silence back, so don’t give me that bullshit.”

“Things go wrong,” Price huffs, the defensiveness rolling off of him. He turns his back on them, shouldering off his vest. “This went wrong, but we’re all fine. Soap’s alright, too.”

“You’re all in one piece, aye, but you know what?” With a single stride you’re standing in front of Price, your left hip sending his desk flying in the other direction. Instinctively, they all shift, turning to you and taking a step closer, except for Price, who’s staring down at you with a cold expression. “You could’ve been killed. We know how to operate together, and I could’ve been useful. I can’t just sit down on my arse and let you guys go out like that!”

“You’re more useful here.”

“Doing nothing? Don’t give me that,” you snap at Price. For a moment, Simon is scared Price is about to smack you down, but he only rubs his face, looking painfully old. “You don’t want me out there? Alright, but at least make use of me from here, goddamnit! I could’ve helped. The lasses were in position, just waiting to be called in, and what do you do? You go in blind!”

“They couldn’t have helped. One of the hostages—”

“I know that, one of them told me already!” Your voice is raising, your entire body shaking badly with anger. Simon can see the repressed emotions in your expression, the way you’re letting it all out on Price. He’s never seen you this angry before; maybe only when Johnny smacked your ass that one time years ago —pretty sure he still remembers the taste of your boots—. “Not because they were there themselves. What, we can’t go now? That’s what this is about?”

“What are you even talking about?” Price’s face twitches, offense clear in it.

“I think maybe we should…” Johnny tries to meddle, taking a step towards you, but that’s another wrong move. Your head turns just a bit, your eyes never fully leaving Price, and Johnny and Garrick take a step back at the same time, looking away. Simon, however, only stares, silent. —If his pants are a little tighter now, that’s his business—.

“Us. Women. What, you fucked up with me and now you can’t trust yourself not to fuck up again? Scared you’re gonna get a new reputation for that?”

“That has nothing to do with it, that’s absurd! What’s gotten into you? Since when do you believe I think such things?” Price jabs his finger in your forehead, forcing you to take a step back. Simon sees the mistake clear as day, the anger burning deep in your eyes, the cracking of your wrist when your right hand lifts.

A hard finger jabs into Price’s chest, your curved fingernail stabbing into his chest. “Don’t treat me like an idiot. If you didn’t want me back, you should’ve said so!”

At that point, Garrick steps away, leaving them there as he removes himself from the situation. Johnny follows right after him, meeting Simon’s eyes to urge him to leave as well. In the end, he also turns on his heels, and closes the door behind him. Your loud voice and Price’s raising tone ring in the air until he’s back in his room.

The music coming from his headphones bounce from one ear to the other, resonating in his brain now that he’s in his bed. Honestly, the last time he saw anybody go off on Price like that was so, so long ago, he doesn’t even think you were there to see it. Who knows, maybe his mind is playing tricks and you were that person too.

The soft pillows help his mind drift away, not wanting to think of you probably stabbing the captain as he just lays here, but… you wouldn’t. You two argue like real father and daughter, and he knows the care and love is just as real. Simon knows you’re pissed, and he knows its valid, but he also fully understands Price, even if he wouldn’t do the same. Hell, he wouldn’t have let you come back, but he can’t make that call, after all.

Simon’s eyes fall shut, Chad Kroeger’s voice filling the void of emotions settling in his stomach. Only his thumb moving against his stomach to the rhythm of the drums gives away that he’s awake, because he barely makes noise —unless he’s snoring. He’s one loud snorer. He’s proud of it. Good lungs.

He would’ve fallen asleep, if not for the dip in the bed that makes him open his eyes. Your face is a bit puffy, your hair slightly messy and curled from the tight bun you were wearing before, black hair tie now around your wrist. Simon’s hand lifts to your cheek on pure instinct, the momentary peace barely letting him think and process the fact that you’re leaning down. 

“Do you recall how long it must have been since any room held only you and me?

And every song that sings about it, says that we can't live without it. 

Now I know just what that really means”

Your lips feel soft on his, salty, and the sliding of your warm tongue on his is so slow, so perfect that the blood rushes to his chest, leaving him breathless. Simon wasn’t expecting anything like this, not when you were so busy fighting Price just a few minutes ago, but it’s… everything.

And it’s bloody perfect. 

Simon manages to breathe through it, deep fear of you pulling away from him eats at his heart, his brain screaming at him to hold you against him, to never let you leave, but his hands can only cup your cheek, hold your forearm. He’s on cloud nine, his heart pounding so forcefully against his chest that he’s half afraid he’ll break his ribcage.

But nothing, absolutely nothing matters when your arms wrap around his neck, both of you shifting until you’re on your back on his bed, headphones forgotten on the floor as he can only look at you. You’re messy, and there are tear streaks on your cheeks, but he can’t think of any day you’ve looked more beautiful than today.

“You could’ve died.”

That makes Simon take a shaky breath. He couldn’t care less if he died right now, if he got to hold you in his arms just a moment longer. Not planning on dying, he only nods his head softly, not wanting to remind you that that is literally your jobs. “I know.” 

“And I wasn’t there.”

“I’m back. And you’re here.”

“I should’ve been there. It’s stupid that I’m just…” You trail off, your fingers curling on his nape, fingernails brushing on his skin. Simon lifts an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue, knowing you’re not done yet. After a moment, your arms tighten around his neck, fingers lost in his hair and then your lips are on his again.

Simon wouldn’t mind dying like this.

-ˋˏ✄——————————————————

todo lo escrito anteriormente es ficción y de ninguna forma intenta aludir a algún tipo de organización de la vida real. es ficción y entretenimiento. ☝️🤓

buy me a coffee!

well! we've come so far. we have... six chapters left so don't be so happy yet. but hey, progress!! so exciting.

we're a little over 1k now, you guys. i can't thank you enough~ hope i can keep making fics we all enjoy. special shotout to @sheepispink because I wouldn't be here without her amazing sergeant reader series (and her friendship). best thing ever, forever thankful!

also, I hope it didnt come off as Laswell being into Gaz and Price 💔 she's just v cool!

the whole thing w the mexican mafia... ;) surely nothing bad will happen and nothing in this chapter is foreshadowing for anything!

taglist: @euphoricn @lilg101010 @enfppuff @carolchaotic @silas-fanfic-favs @nina-from-317 @an-ever-angry-bi @kittygonap @adventurerabby @defronix @iambuttwodaysold @blackhawkfanatic @malevolentghoul @thriving-n-jiving @literallegendicon @echo9821 @angel-bugz @ssc7514 @clickbait-official @hades--baby @blackhawkfanatic @sirbonesly @saki---chan @skeletonsucker @nnsissys @tessakate @honestlymassivetrash @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @rayrayyio @diseasedclitoris @alex1011sdzfgh @thebumbqueen @hyunjaebaby @jillvalentinesrealwife @sodavrr @kneelforloki @vioxsoo @l4vstrr @leon-thot-kennedy @t3a-bag @dotmistbird @littlezarp @eclipsedcherry @codeseven @babydoll-143 @viennakarma @exitingmusic @lockofspades

[naffeclipse]

O' Medusa

Gorgon!Eclipse x Reader

The wrath of the divine hunts for your blood and flesh. You flee into the darkness, carrying a bitter wound. A goddess blesses you with a gift and a protector, and a minor deity guides you to your new refuge: a long abandoned temple with a mysterious figure dwelling inside. Your prayers are answered by a chorus of snakes.

Word Count: ~10,900 Warnings: Blood, violence, injury, fear, anxiety, and nightmares

A/N: Hi, hello! I'm so very eager to introduce my new fic! I love the inherent tragedy of lots of Greek Mythology and while this is heavily inspired by the culture/period, it will not be entirely one-to-one with actual Greek Mythology lore. I play around with established FNAF characters and insert them into the story as I see fit. Very few will use their actual names so I apologize if that's disconcerting. However, I hope you have fun figuring out who is who!

The subject matter within this fic will contain darker themes, and I am warning you now to consider the tags carefully before reading.

[mischievous-thunder]

Wade: If I were an octopus, I'd have slapped 8 people at once.

Logan: if I were an octopus, I'd just select one person and slap them with 8 times the force.

Wade: *Stares at Logan with adoration and sheer excitement*

[seokminfilm]

cutie 🧸 lee seokmin

🧸 pairing, lee seokmin x reader

🧸 warnings, non-idol au, very short, established relationship, boyfriend seokmin, seokmin calls reader lovie (new seokmin pet name unlocked??), skinship (face touching & hair playing), lots of kisses and giggles, whiny seokmin (the crowd cries and screams)

🧸 summary, if you had to make a list of the cutest things, your touch-starved, whiny boyfriend would be number one on that list.

🧸 author's note, missing seokmin hours are so bad right now so i need to write something 😭 hopefully this fic will ease me back into writing for seokmin cause I've been having writer's block for him lately and it's not fun 💔 praying that i can finally write dawn's seokmin college au fic this weekend!!

🧸 now playing, sherbet lobby (nicopatty, bxnji)

🧸 word count, 521 | for @kstrucknet

you find yourself lounging on the couch on a lazy saturday afternoon, home before your boyfriend as you wait for his arrival. he had gone to lunch with some of his college friends and was on his way home as he had just texted you about 15 minutes ago.

the sound of keys jingling the front door's lock pulls your attention away from your phone, and you smile as the door cracks open, revealing your brown-eyed boyfriend in the cutest sweater you think you've ever seen him wear.

"welcome home, seokkie." you smile softly, throwing your phone somewhere on the couch as you stand up, approaching your boyfriend.

"hi lovie," seokmin's usual sparkling eyes are slightly tired, and he makes his way over to you after dropping his leftover food on the countertop, body falling on top of you as his head lands in your lap. he's still upbeat, his smile beaming as you kiss his forehead, but he seems slower and ready to nap.

"how was lunch? you look sleepy," you tease, tapping the end of seokmin's sharp nose as he giggles. his smile lines appear when he chuckles, and you kiss the dimple on his cheek, fingers already combing through his hair as he sighs in pleasure.

"it was good, really yummy. i missed you so bad though─needed you so bad, lovie," seokmin mumbles, large hand on your bare thigh as he nuzzles his face into your legs. you giggle at his warm breath on your skin, hands still running through his styled hair.

"did you now?" you ask teasingly, and seokmin nods, a little whine escaping his lips as he kisses your bare thighs. giggling, you softly take seokmin's chin in your hand, turning him to look up at you as you trace his jawline.

seokmin's quickly falling into whatever slow spell you're putting on him, blinking becoming slower as he smiles up at you softly.

"you're such a cutie," you brush seokmin's bangs back from his face, and seokmin shakes his head, sighing as his warm cheek tickles your bare skin. his cheeks are slowly turning a light red, and even the tips of his ears perk up, shyness written all over his face as he giggles nervously, covering his face.

"stop, lovie." seokmin's low voice has a whine to it, and you're already on a teasing streak, unable to stop. your hands are all over seokmin's features, tracing his nose, eyebrows, and lips as if you're trying to memorize his beautiful features.

"sorry, minnie. i'll leave you alone," you nod, and seokmin shuts his eyes, peeking out of one a few seconds later as he clears his throat.

"you don't actually have to stop." seokmin mumbles, and you kiss his lips again, softly breathing against him as you pull away, a warm smile on your face as you continue to card your fingers through his dark hair.

"god, you're so, so cute, minnie. i don't know how you do it," you whisper, and seokmin chuckles lowly, finally falling quiet and letting you do your thing, treating him with care and affection the rest of the afternoon.

[keferon]

Getting lost (part 2/?)!!

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

The humans were really weird today, they had treated him to a meal in addition to the frozen fish he got every day, and he had done nothing! His pool was closed to the public, which only happened when he had a medical appointment and he hated them. The feeling of apprehension clouded his thoughts, it steamed in his belly, resonated in his heart before intruding into his flesh and bones, filling his being with a tugging, a curious desire to search, to understand. With this thick cloud blocking his little world of thoughts and the many staff members circling around his waters, he only wanted one thing: answers.

He would have asked, he COULD have asked, but humans didn't like that. He often tried to talk to them, but the more words came out of his mouth, when his language went beyond simple things like "eat" and "hello", their gaze withered, in the same way that an overwatered flower would have done. The truth brushed the veil of their thoughts before being quickly rejected for coos of joy and excitement at the new words that the orca had learned. And they couldn't really hear him anyway, people he recognized as veterinarians thanks to their green outfits were standing behind the glass of his indoor aquarium and not on the platform they normally used above the water. It felt more like a check-up than a real intervention and he thanked all the deities he knew for that! But no verbal interaction for him.

That still didn't explain why his part of the aquarium was closed. The keepers liked to do their check-ups in public, and honestly it, reassured him not to be alone during them. Being alone made him feel empty, there was nothing to do, nothing to say....just him and himself. He loathed when his body became numb from inactivity, when even his emotions mixed in the melancholy of his thoughts to become nothing but noise without purpose or words. He knew that the more the days passed, the more the little world he tried to keep in a corner of his head crumbled and that one day it would end up collapsing. That day, he will have gotten lost deep enough to never get out again, and there are days when he wonders if he would do better to swim faster to the bottom, to stop the internal bomb that was sleeping inside him, to let the ticking of the clock stop for good and to finally be at peace.

Little taps on the surface brought him out of thoughts he didn't want to have, that he tried as best he could to hide. It was his signal, maybe everything wasn't completely different today? Without hesitation he gave a simple tail swipe that propelled him without any real force towards the air. It was much too hot for his taste, one of the big disadvantages of summer, which made him think that they hadn't provided him with any enrichment with ice recently, maybe they didn't have enough for the whole park? His gaze fell on his regular keeper, Brice, who gave him a gentle pat on the top of his head between his ears.

"Hi buddy"

He cooed before throwing him a fish from a basin placed next to him. Jazz caught it on the fly, creating waves under his weight that soaked the keeper from head to toe, making him laugh. He liked to make people laugh, he was good at it, and he knew that the more he did it, the more humans would come and the less alone he would be. While eating his meal (they were really generous today), he saw Brice talking to the veterinarians who had been behind the window a few moments earlier but also to other people he didn't recognize, inspectors perhaps? In any case, their conversation was clear, even if the humans, as usual, didn't suspect that he was listening.

"Are we sure that the procedure is possible?

- One hundred percent, Jazz is completely docile and has no wounds that could be infected by a mystery disease from the other.

- The new mer is clearly not docile, he has been trying to escape since he woke up. I recommend a gentle approach, a quick first contact so that they assimilate each other."

The orca's ears perked up and his food froze in his throat. A new mer? Here?? He seemed to pause in his rapid descent into the heart of his mind, a pause in the chaos as the numbers of the bomb stopped decreasing, all to listen, to confirm the growing feeling in his chest. Hope? Fear? Stress or just pure denial that something like this could happen? In his head, a new melody began to write itself.

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

-🦇🐧

Part 2 is less poetic, I didn't have the strenght for it🥲 hope you still like it!

OOOOOOOOOAAAHHHHH I LOVE IT I LOVE IT I LOVE IT SO MUCH DKLDNFKELNDHFKF

[science-lings]

God, I love it when people who clearly have personal experience or expert knowledge on certain things write obscure AUs that incorporate those things so hyperspecifically that I feel like I'm learning something.

I love nurses who write hospital AUs that have accurate medical knowledge just thrown in there because they went to medical school and when people who clearly had a phase where they obsessed over a certain time period write an AU set in that time period or location it's just so fun.

Tell me about the 1950s Chicago culture and history and how the characters are interracial and how that affects their life, I love when the money is accurately converted and the personal histories of the characters are thoughtfully woven to incorporate the new setting they're put in, I love it when people care so much about making something and use their own expertise to aide them.

[gennyrthewriter]

After TWO YEARS, the sequel to The Backwater is finally out!

Check out These Other Coasts on Amazon!

(Or, as always, hit me up for a PDF. It's MY book I'll distribute it how I WANT!)

If you like colonial-era inspired low-ish fantasy with political intrigue, moral ambiguity, and a whole cast of queer characters, give it a chance!

[hemi-demi]

Daily reminder that if you're enjoying some fanfic, and you want to see more of that person's work, that comments mean so, so much more than kudos and bookmarks ever can!

They can be long, heart wrenching love letters to the details and nuances of their writing. Can be pulling your favorite quotes from chapters and making little comments, or – when in doubt – just bark at people. Barking is fun

However you decide, know that even just a bunch of ❤️❤️❤️ can mean the difference between fanwriters and artists just giving up entirely. Fandom is a conversation, so get to yapping!