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checkeredflagggs · 13 days ago

Text

+1s

Pairing: logan sargeant x reader

summary: When a member of Logan’s team gets married in Vegas, he invites the new wife and her bff to travel with him as his Williams guests. He didn’t know being a +1 would also see him in love

a/n:this took so much longer than I thought it would…oops 🤷🏻‍♀️

a/n2: made up some names for Williams workers — sorry if you’re actually real

a/n3: this is set in 2023 and I switched Austin and Vegas in the racing calendar

a/n4: sorry this was later than I said — the heat was brutal

Masterlist

Private Messages, Logan and Jon

Private Messages, Logan and Jon (2 hours later)

Private Messages, Wendy and y/n

Private Messages, Wendy and y/n (4 hours later)

Private Messages, Logan and y/n

f1gossip

user1: Vegas just literally became my favorite track

↳user2: where else are we gonna get content like this??

↳user1: right???

user3: bets on who it is?

↳user4: level mode extreme because most of them were partying together…

↳user5: ok time to put on my crazy hat and deep dive — I need to know which driver was crazy enough to get Vegas married

↳user4: ok but no one said it was a driver? Like they specifically said f1 employee which makes me think it wasn’t a driver

↳user5: ohhhh good point good point

↳user3: ok but i need it to be a driver???

user6: I think it’s gonna be a redbull employee

↳user7: reasoning?

↳user6: they have nothing to worry about

↳user7: I can see it

↳user8: i think it’s gonna be a Ferrari employee

↳user9: plot twist it’s both

↳user10: that would be fucking hilarious

user11: other gossip pages are apparently reporting that Logan was spotted leaving the party early

↳user12: DID LOGAN GET MARRIED?!?

↳user13: I can’t believe wtf is a kilometer is married…

↳user14: tbh not the driver I would have bet on but I can see it

↳user13: same

Bluesky

user15: 😂😂😂😂

user16: the tweet format to live in infamy

oscarpiastri: really?

↳logansargeant: shouldn’t have been so funny if you didn’t want us to copy you

↳oscarpiastri: 😒😑

user17: oh my god we really thought that Logan got married

↳logansargeant: really appreciate the faith

↳user17: of course!

↳logansargeant: 😑😑

alex_albon: I had faith in you!

↳logansargeant: thank you Alex

↳lilymhe: he didn’t — he was texting me his theories and you were near the top of the list

↳logansargeant: 👎🏻👎🏻👎🏻

↳user18: oh my god this is the best ever

Private Messages, Logan/Jon/Wendy and y/n

wendy_travel

liked by travel_with_yn, jon_pr, logansargeant, and 827,193 others

tagged: jon_pr

wendy_travel: honeymoon in Mexico

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user19: married?!? Girl what

↳user20: oh my god your the girl!

↳user21: what girl??

↳user20: the f1gossip page girl! There was a rumor someone in f1 got married in Vegas last week and this is the wife!

↳user21: oh my god that’s so cute!

jon_pr: paradise with you

↳wendy_travel: always when I’m with you

↳travel_with_yn: cheesy

travel_with_yn

liked by logansargeant, user, user, and 3,824,293 others

tagged: channel, summer_fridays, google

travel_with_yn: traveling in style with my trusted companions! The best to travel with, the best to look good, and the best to find my way!

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user22: oh my god you always look so good!

↳travel_with_yn: thanks in large part to my summer fridays berry lip gloss!

logansargeant: glad you could come

↳travel_with_yn: thanks for asking!

↳logansargeant: now that you’ve met some of the grid — do we still have the same vibes?

↳travel_with_yn: You? No. The rest? Mostly

oscarpiastri: it was nice to meet you two

↳travel_with_yn: you too!

↳oscarpiastri: now if you could give me my hat back?

↳travel_with_yn: sorry I need it more

↳logansargeant: trash it — I’ll give you a better one liked by travel_with_yn, oscarpiastri

alex_albon: always nice to meet new fans!

↳travel_with_yn: I don’t know if I’d go that far yet…

↳alex_albon: but you were in my garage all weekend?

↳travel_with_yn: cause I was flirting with Lily?

↳lilymhe: loml 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

user23: best Williams guest!

↳user24: it was so fun seeing you on the big screen!

↳travel_with_yn: they definitely got my good side!

↳user25: impossible for you to have a bad one!

Private Messages, Logan and y/n

f1gossip

user26: they look so happy most of the time though…

user27: if you go on YouTube, there’s actual footage of that argument…it’s bad

↳user28: oh my god really?

↳user27: it really is. It goes on for like 20/30 minutes

↳user28: yikes…

user29: girl dump his ass

user30: this is why Vegas weddings never work out

↳user31: really?

↳user32: well spontaneous weddings

user33: i wanna know what rumors are swirling around to get to the gossip page

↳user34: right??? Cause like what’s happening that we can’t see?

Private Messages, Logan and Jon

Private Messages, Wendy and y/n

Private Messages, Logan and y/n

williamsracing

liked by travel_with_yn, logansargeant, and 1,829,293 others

tagged: travel_with_yn

williamsracing: Brazil here we come! And thanks for all the traveling tips y/n!

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user35: and looking good doing it!

user36: I love Brazil

travel_with_yn: you guys certainly know how to treat a girl right, of course I’ll offer some tips

↳williamsracing: anything for one of our favorite guests

↳user37: ok what do I need to do to get this treatment?

↳user38: idk but I’m laughing that it isn’t the wife of one of their pr people that’s getting the red carpet treatment

↳user37: omg I didn’t even notice. I wonder what Wendy is thinking about it…

↳user39: shes probably too busy fighting with her husband to notice

alex_albon: you guys never post me like this

↳travel_with_yn: skill issue

↳alex_albon: I didn’t sign up to be bullied!

↳logansargeant: it’s a service she offers for free

user50: you guys thought we wouldn’t notice! But we did!

↳user51: ummmm notice what?

↳user50: that Jon and Wendy (the Vegas couple) spent a lot of the weekend arguing with each other

Private Messages, Wendy and y/n

Private Messages, Logan and y/n

f1gossip

liked by user, user, user, and 682,384 others

f1gossip: Logan on a date? The American driver was seen at a local Austin Japanese restaurant — with an empty but occupied seat next to him

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user52: that was supposed to be me!

↳user53: or me…

user54: ok are we thinking date date or friend date?

↳user55: I desperately want it to be a date date because I need relationship Logan…

↳user56: on the other hand I need it to be a friend date so I still have a chance!

user57: ok but conspiracy theory time — I think its gonna be y/n!

↳user58: the travel influencer that’s been at the Williams garage lately?

↳user57: ok hear me out first — we know they’ve been spending a lot of time together recently because of Jon and Wendy (Vegas couple who’s their besties)

↳user57: and I’d imagine they’re getting the front row seat to the implosion of their marriage — and having been there, done that — you get close to people also going through it

↳user57: and if you go back through the pictures and videos of Austin and Brazil — they spend a lot of time together in the background

↳user58: …ok you got me

↳user57: just you wait and see

user59: wtf is a kilometer looks so good here!

↳user60: that’s what I was thinking!!

Private Messages, Wendy and y/n

williamsracing

liked by travel_with_yn, oscarpiastri, alex_albon, and 1,213,274 others

tagged: logansargeant

williamsracing: Logan points here in Austin!! We repeat — Logan points!

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user61: this is everything I’ve ever wanted

↳user62: OUR AMERICAN DID IT!

oscarpiastri: congratulations man

↳logansargeant: thanks!

user63: LOGAN POINTS LOGAN POINTS!!

alex_albon: show ‘em how it’s done!

↳logansargeant: you know it!

user64: caw caw mofos!!! 🦅🦅

travel_with_yn: it was a genuine pleasure to watch you race today

↳logansargeant: you must be my lucky charm!

↳user57: interesting interesting 📝

user65: WOOHOO!!

Private Messages, Logan and y/n

Private Messages, Wendy and y/n

logansargeant

liked by travel_with_yn, oscarpiastri, georgerussell63 and 772,923 others

tagged: williamsracing, alex_albon

logansargeant: as the season comes to a close, I just want to thank everyone at williamsracing for the amazing chance to drive for you. It was a rocky start but we’ll definitely come back stronger next year! With hopefully less excitement at Vegas 😂

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alex_albon: it was a great time having you as a teammate this year!

↳logansargeant: it was definitely great being teammates!

user66: I’ve only had this American for a season but if something happened to him etc etc

oscarpiastri: first year done, more to come!

↳logansargeant: can’t wait for them!

user67: ok are we all skipping over the last picture or???

↳user68: no no we are not! Logan Sargeant come explain yourself!

↳user57: if I may??

↳user69: you may not!

↳user57: it’s definitely y/n!

travel_with_yn: it was certainly a pleasure traveling with you these last few weeks!

↳logansargeant: excellent

Private Messages, Logan/Wendy/Jon and y/n

travel_with_yn

liked by wendy_travel, logansargeant, user, and 829,439 others

travel_with_yn: no traveling necessary when I’m with you

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user70: a soft launch?!?

↳user71: not on my bingo card for the year..

↳user70: but I love it!

user57: I’m telling you guys!

↳user72: alright there grandma…

logansargeant: 🩵

↳user73: oh my god!!

logansargeant has posted 3 stories

[back with benny][ Vegas here we come][forever with you yn_sargeant]

user74 replied BENNY!!

user75 replied Benny Benny Benny!!

user76 replied what are you and Benny doing together?!?

travel_with_yn replied oh you look so handsome…

↳logansargeant oh I’m blushing ☺️

oscarpiastri replied are you really going to do it?

↳logansargeant yes

↳oscarpiastri crazy man but good luck

alex_albon replied you’re getting married and you didn’t even invite me???

↳logansargeant 😂sorry but it is a bit of a spur of the moment decision — we’ll have an actual ceremony soon

↳alex_albon good! I’d like to see you and yn again

↳logansargeant …she says she’s excited to see Lily again

↳alex_albon 🙄🙄

user77 replied MARRIAGE?!?

jon_pr replied are you sure?

↳logansargeant I’ve never been more sure in my life

↳jon_pr well at least it’s not a drunk one

↳logansargeant 😂

user78 replied Alexa play that should be me

yn_sargeant replied oh my lovely husband — here’s to forever

↳logansargeant thankfully 😊😊

georgerussell63 replied congratulations 🎉

↳logansargeant thanks man! Be on the look out for an invitation — we’ll be having a real ceremony soonish

wendy_travel replied treat her well

↳logansargeant I will

user57 replied I KNEW IT!!

Taglist

@daniskywalkersolo @thenerdysimp @quinquinquincy @lecfosimaxbull @gr3yhues @armystay89 @simplylovelysworld @mimisweetz @angelluv16 @hamiltonforwdc @alexxavicry @suns3treading @ymrereads @monzipan @stuffyownswrld @kuolonsyoja @ky14-1 @devilacot @justheretoreadthxxs @minrayven @albonoracers @hc-dutch @somerandomf1fan @purplephantomwolf @shadowreader07 @spilled-coffee-cup @galaxygurlll l @anamiad00msday @freyathehuntress @widow-cevans @1-of-my-many-obsessions @charlesgirl16 @ihaveitprinteddout @deena-beena-weena @lilyofthevalley-09 @nightrose-18 @kodeelyn @star73807-blog @avengers-assemble123456 @howling-wolf97 @boke-hinata-boke @hannahmotors10 @mountainshuman @daisydaze111 @evie-119 @shadowreader07 @r0nnsblog @1800-love-me @edgyficuselastica @everydayimagineer

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ms-demeanor · 1 year ago

Text

making my own post because nobody needs my bullshit on their post:

OP:

Reblog 1:

Reblog 2:

My response:

The IRA blogs were here and they were active and they were quite popular; their posting patterns did not match normal tumblr users (i was followed by lagonegirl and followed back only to be put off by the account reblogging the same five or ten posts every hour for a day before selecting another five or ten posts to reblog hourly the next day - it was clear engagement bait).

Tumblr has never been as transparent about these accounts as both Twitter and Facebook were, but several of the accounts had shared names across platforms and you can find a significant amount of data that was released by both facebook (ex: ads purchased by the IRA accounts) and twitter (over three million tweets from IRA accounts). Academic researchers have published papers on the data released from facebook and twitter. Several papers. So many papers. Soooooo many papers. We have a LOT of direct evidence that you can explore for yourself that there were hundreds (possibly thousands) of IRA accounts that were created on Facebook and Twitter. Of those accounts, some shared usernames across platforms, and of those accounts, a few had tumblr accounts that posted the same content on twitter and tumblr.

To quote a buzzfeed news article from the time:

The Russian-run Tumblr accounts used the same, or very similar, usernames as the account names contained on a list of confirmed IRA accounts Twitter submitted to congressional investigators. In some cases, the Tumblr and Twitter account has the same profile image or linked to each other in their bios. Some IRA Tumblrs and Twitter accounts also cross-promoted content between platforms, further linking them together.

Current tumblr user @ alwaysbewoke (who I don't want to tag because I'm sure he's got better things to do) is interviewed in that article and talks about following one of the blogs identified by tumblr as an IRA blog that had a matching account on twitter identified as an IRA account but unfollowing when the left-leaning blog supposedly run by a black creator started rooting for trump in the election.

Dr. Jonathan Albright is heavily quoted in the article; the data review he collaborated on is one of the only reviews of this subject that includes data from Tumblr and Reddit.

One of the claims that I've seen is that tumblr just deleted funny black people, but these were blogs with thousands of followers on tumblr who never recreated, never popped up on another social media site, never started a reddit account after getting banned; nobody ever showed up saying "hey this is 4mysquad, I got banned on tumblr and twitter, follow me to pillowfort". These very popular blogs got deleted and, as far as I know, nobody ever popped up claiming to be a person who was deleted - and it's not like tumblr users haven't figured out how to evade bans.

What you are doing when you make posts saying that the IRA accounts on tumblr never existed is *absolving tumblr of guilt for their utter lack of transparency.*

Tumblr is not the only tech company that has tried to fly under the radar as its larger counterparts face regular scrutiny in Congress and in the press. Earlier this month, Reddit revealed it too had deleted hundreds of accounts with ties to the Internet Research Agency. A WIRED investigation found more than a thousand links to Russian propaganda websites are still live on Reddit, and unearthed two suspicious accounts that Reddit immediately shut down.

So should you believe what Tumblr says? No, because Tumblr has been functionally fucking silent on this issue and the information about this subject aside from the list of blogs has come from the hard work of data scientists, journalists, and researchers.

(For the record; some of those bot accounts that were recorded by Dr. Albright also had Google+ accounts in 2017 - there is every possibility that they had myspace accounts).

Now, the reason that I'm popping onto this post as an annoyed anarchist is that I was tracking a similar group of blogs for a while and was discussing them and I stopped precisely because of the galaxy-brained liberals who are now trying to dunk on communists for criticizing electoralism. One of the people who was following my project was one of the ones who started calling out the "joe biden kills dogs" posts as disinfo and I realized they were using some of the guidelines I'd written up to "identify" misinformation and that is very a rock fucking stupid approach to what was clearly a leftist making jokes and was horrified and realized there was no way that I could continue documenting what I was documenting without someone attempting to call actual leftists russian bots.

I've seen the post that OP is referencing [it's one where someone makes a very obvious joke about the democrat presidential ticket and people jump on to call them a bot and then someone tries to do the "AI tell me a story" thing and OP is just like "I don't want to :(", proving that they are in fact a person and not an AI] and have deeply enjoyed the humor of watching liberals a) not understand a very, VERY obvious joke and b) become the unwitting butt of a joke they were trying to make, but also I am so exhausted by watching normie dems call leftists AI bots after years of watching normie dems call real live actual leftists who hold actual political views that real people actually have, like prison abolition, russian bots.

But I am also so fucking tired of left conspiracism and how stupid it sounds when leftists dismiss a preponderance of evidence that is easily accessible and publicly available for analysis as "lol so you just trust everything tumblr tells you?"

No, dipshit, learn to click a fucking link or twelve.

#because i have to clarify before somebody calls *me* a bot: i vote as harm reduction #I've voted in every presidential election since 2004 #i voted dem in 2016 and 2020 even though i loathed the candidates for a number of reasons #so don't blue no matter who me #and maybe after the election try doing some jail support

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gremlin-girly · 3 months ago

Text

Chocaholics Anonymous

For @buck-star 's Easter Challenge 🐣🐰

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Trope: Friends to lovers

Prompt: 🐰 Choclate (way toooooooooooo much)

Word count: ?

Tags/Warnings: None. Just really goofy fluff

Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through AI. All of my work is 18+ so read at your own risk.

Summary: You notice that your chocolate stash is depleting rapidly and begin a note exchange with your chocolate thief.

Dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

A/N: Also 350+ followers?? Hi you guys!! ☺️

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist | Navigation

Your chocolate stash was a chocoholic's dream. Hidden in the back of the dustiest, least used kitchen cupboard was a fake backing; with no pipes running through it to make sure no one accidentally stumbled upon your stash.

Steve and Thor were cretins when it came to chocolate and - probably due to their size and training regimens - could eat your stash in one sitting. However, you'd chewed them out so bad you thought they would burst into tears, and then promptly devised your super secret stash cupboard to ensure it never happened again.

Which was why you were surprised to find that, even though you'd definitely replaced your fake backing when you last used it, your stash had most definitely depleted.

You couldn't remember eating the bars that were missing. Even if you had somehow managed to sleep walk to your cupboard, the lack of evidence in wrappers and chocolate smears was concerning.

You didn't want to signal to the other avengers that you had a new secret stash, or that you knew one of them was a thief, so you opted to leave a note printed from the team's computer. With a team full of spies, geniuses and magic users, you didn't need the thief to know who you were from your handwriting.

Placing the note clearly upon the chocolate pile you re-fix the fake backing, the words slowly fading from view.

I know who you are. Count your days chocolate thief (<.<)

Bucky was surprised to find a note left on top of the supposedly abandoned chocolate stash he'd stumbled upon. He had - incorrectly - assumed that the chocolate stash had been long forgotten about and that the goldmine of sweet, cocoa-y goodness was his and his alone. Knowing that he was in fact a thief, made him feel only slightly guilty as he reached for another chocolate bar, deciding that he would leave a note of his own and replace what he'd taken.

Clearly, whoever had left the note and created this hidden stash wanted to remain anonymous. However, he wondered who on earth on the team it could be.

You read out the newest note aloud in the quiet of your room, trying to put together a mental list of suspects as you skim the words.

"Dear Chocolate Fairy," you begin, already frowning. "I'm sorry for eating your chocolate. Great. At least there's an apology."

You sigh. An apology meant it couldn't have been Tony; he'd never apologise for something like that. Maybe buy you stock in Cadbury but never apologise apologise.

"To make it up to you, I'll buy your favourite to replace what I stole. Just leave me a note of your chocolate of choice."

You nod approvingly but keep your frown as you type up your new note into a word document. Who on earth was your Anonymous Chocolate Thief?

A week later, you were no closer to finding the identity of your Chocolate Thief.

Steve and Clint were on a mission when the last note appeared, Thor was off world and when you'd subtly asked Bruce if he'd like any chocolate from the store he'd told you he preferred savoury snacks and asked if you'd pick up some Pringles instead.

On your weekly coffee meet with Natasha, you ask her about her chocolate preferences, only earning you a sigh.

"This again?" She tuts. "You're a chocaholic. Besides, with Steve and Thor gone you have nothing to worry about and you don't keep chocolate in the tower anymore. What's bothering you?"

You look sheepishly into your hot chocolate and try to come up with a good excuse.

"Nothing." You sip at your chocolate-y concoction. You couldn't tell Nat about your chocolate issue because she'd find out who it was immediately and truth be told you were enjoying your game of Whodunnit. "Anyways, tell me about that last mission you were on..."

"Man, this is too much chocolate. Even for you." Sam had rummaged through some of Bucky's grocery bags to find that at least two of them were filled with chocolate bars. "What are you gonna do with all this?"

Bucky eyes him suspiciously before snatching the bar he was holding out of his hand. "None of your business."

Sam throws up his hands in defeat before sneaking another bar into his pocket. "Do I need to let Steve know in case this is a... Thing?"

Bucky frowns over at Sam, picking up the grocery bags in his left hand. "A Thing?"

"Yeah. A Thing." Sam frowns back, folding his arms over his chest. "You're hoarding chocolate like it's gold so unless you're plotting something, I don't see how you're gonna eat that much."

Bucky purses his lips in consideration before sighing, realising Sam was correct and that he was acting stranger than usual. "I...you're gonna have to trust me Sam, this isn't for me."

"Right."

"I swear."

"Yeah." Sam shakes his head. "Whatever man, if you get stuck in a chocolate coma I'm not helping you out of it."

Bucky rolls his eyes and is about to pad off to his room to wait until everyone is asleep to access the secret stash but halts when Sam chirps behind him.

"You should ask Y/N if she wants any of your bars."

"What? Why?" Bucky turns back to Sam with a curious look.

"She's a chocaholic to the max." Sam chuckles and gives Bucky a knowing smirk. "Besides, it might gain you some points in her favour don't you think?"

Bucky spins around on his heel to try and hide the warmth gracing his cheeks but Sam had already spotted it and snorts, calling after him.

"And try smiling more!"

The following night, you almost burst into laughter when you open up the false backing. The stash is filled to the brim with your favourite chocolate that you feel sick just looking at it. Attached to the very top is a note that reads "Sorry :(".

A small twinge of guilt twists in your stomach and you feel a little disappointed that your Chocolate Thief is no more. You'll never know their identity - and you wonder if your mysterious Chocolate Thief will visit your dreams as a handsome man who looks suspiciously like one Bucky Barnes.

You sigh picking up a bar. There's so much chocolate stuffed inside it could take you a year to eat through it all. You startle when you hear the approach of footsteps, and begin hurriedly shoving chocolate bars back into the cupboard, smacking your head as you jump off the ground.

"Hi." You say, trying not to look too frazzled as Bucky appears.

"Hey." He says and for a moment you both stare at eachother in the dark of the kitchen.

"What are you doing up so late?" You stall, kicking a stray bar across the kitchen floor.

"Uh..." Bucky panics and then wiggles a piece of paper he's holding. "Report."

"Couldn't it wait till the morning?" You ask, starting to smile.

"Couldn't sleep." Bucky finishes lamely before smiling shyly. "You?"

"Same." You lie but if staying up meant eating chocolate and speaking with Bucky, you'd gladly pay the price of no sleep. "Want a cocoa?"

Bucky snorts. "Sam said you were a chocaholic."

You shrug trying to play it off but man, you really did have a reputation.

"I'm thinking of starting a club." You say playfully, heading to the cupboard for a mug. "Chocaholics Anonymous. What do you think?"

Your grin widens when you hear Bucky's laughter, heart fluttering when you catch a playful gleam in his blue eyes.

"I think you'd be the only member." Bucky says, watching you make your chocolate drink with a hint of jealousy.

"I could get Steve and Thor involved." You say mock-thoughtfully.

"Do you even have a favourite chocolate if you're a chocaholic?" Bucky asks curiously.

"Oh yeah." You say nonchalantly, adding heaped teaspoons of cocoa mix to your mug, uttering your favourite bar without a second thought. "But there's different brands who use different amounts of cocoa to milk solids and blah blah blah."

You turn and fix Bucky with another smile. "What about you?"

Bucky opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water. He can feel heat crawling all over his face and a smile itching to break free; you were the Chocolate Fairy. It was your stash he'd broken into.

No wonder you'd been so touchy about your chocolate.

"I don't have a favourite." Bucky says. "I take what I can get my hands on."

You falter at his words for a moment before grabbing the milk from the fridge. "Yuh huh. I know the type."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Bucky teases and you giggle as you put your cocoa in the microwave.

"Nothing."

"It didn't sound like nothing."

"Bucky, come on -"

"Sounds like you were insinuating I was some sort of Chocolate Thief."

You spin around to face him pointing wildly. Bucky points back accusingly.

"You're the Chocolate Thief!" You gasp.

"You're the Chocolate Fairy!" Bucky exclaims back.

A moment passes before you both dissolve into a fit of giggles, interrupted only by the ding of the microwave.

"You bought wayyy too much chocolate, Buck." You snicker, grabbing your mug. "But I'll happily share it with you."

"Sam did say I went overboard but I have a better idea." You raise an eyebrow at Bucky, who gives you a cheeky smile. "We choose some snacks and a movie, melt the chocolate and gorge ourselves into a chocolate coma."

You nod excitedly, your stomach swooping with joy. "It's a date, Thief."

Taglist

Add yourself here

@irishhappiness , @awkwardgiraffe726 , @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers , @dugiioh , @cieraboobear , @railmesebstan , @kei943 @norseloki26 , @sebastians-love @valenzie , @xamapolax , @lonelyghosts-stuff , @winchestert101 @read-just-cant-stop @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @looking1016 @blackhawkfanatic @almostglitterybear

#gremlin girly writes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #sebastian stan characters #bucky barnes mcu #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #mcu bucky barnes #mcu bucky barnes x reader

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chimera-dreams · 1 month ago

Text

This Tiny Thing Called Entropy

As rain patters at the walls of the enclosed space you find safety and solace within, a knock echoes on your door. Upon opening it, you find the face of a familiar man, who's come to ask for your help.

Task Force 141 Ensemble x reader

tags: tags and warnings to be added by chapter | violence, reader has a nickname/callsign, slow burn, weird mix between modern and future, dystopian, androids, eventual smut, see full list on (Ao3) (registered users)

wc: 6.3k

Chap 1 | chap 2 | chap 3 | chap 4 | chap 5

You had mixed feelings about your workshop.

On one hand, it was a space wholly your own. The walls were decorated with entire ranges of tools, each drawer and cabinet always had at least two pencils inside them (because you seemed to be constantly losing them when you needed one most, and got sick of looking for one). The tables and benches were covered with various objects, the floor littered with scraps from projects you devoted yourself to.

Everything you had, you sourced yourself. Whether easily or painstakingly, every single item filling any available expanse belonged to you. Bits and bobs you worked your ass off to get your hands on, supplies that made your life immensely easier, whatever it was, it was yours.

Nobody was allowed into what amounted to your sanctuary of sorts. You kept your secrets tucked away here, hidden in plain sight, a purposefully messy space to keep your own paranoia in check. Not that you’d ever let anybody see it all to begin with, but on the off chance someone did happen to chance a peek, all they would see was a hobbyist’s devoted disaster zone and nothing more.

The area was alive, the same way you were, and different all the same. Ticking toys sat on shelves, both worn and new, awake and asleep. Clockwork contraptions that could fit in the palm of your hand, carved wooden figurines, trinkets – your workshop was a time capsule of sorts, a hodgepodge of a person’s fascinatingly old interests.

You had favorites, the ones you hated with all your soul and wouldn’t trade for the world, the ones you held begrudging respect for.

Most important to you was the little music box you had.

It was hidden more than everything else already was. This place could get burned to the ground and it would mean nothing to you as long as the music box was safe, unharmed. It was a gift from someone long gone, now. Someone you missed dearly.

There was a tiny safe you personally installed under the floorboards, air and watertight, a preservationist’s dream for the object they were most greedy for. Most desperate to protect. That is where you kept the music box.

This was your home; you treated it as such, and loved it as much.

On the other hand, this was where you saw the most pain. This was where you spent countless days and nights banging together new parts, carving wood, stressing over bills and the prices of materials, waiting to be hired for your next gig. Not many were hiring mercenaries at this time of year. It didn’t help that your prices were fairly high, compared to the next person, but that’s only because you worked hard to build a reliable reputation. You got shit done, and you got it done cleanly.

You prided yourself on your work. Not just the toys you fidgeted with, microscopic details taken apart and put back together with painstaking caution and heedfulness, but the things you did for whoever happened to be employing you. It was what you had to do to survive, and you weren’t about to half-ass your own life. Not after all you’d gone through, been through, and would have to endure.

Compared to the ordered disarray of your home, you were clean and quick with jobs. You got in, nabbed what you needed, snipped loose ties, and got out. The wage you charged was well deserved, earned through years of assiduous effort and exhaustive toil. You had a solid reputation for good reason, obtained through blood, sweat, and tears – rarely your own, of course. You’d gotten better at spilling less of your own, never leaving a trace that you were ever present.

Unfortunately, it was looking like you’d have to lower your service fees. You were in a bit of a pinch, having to choose between necessities to make ends meet.

Electricity, gas…can live without food for a bit…maybe water, too. Need electricity, though. Can live without heating…

Rain pitter-pattered against the window in the other room as you tinkered with a small toy in your hands, something to entertain yourself with. A bit of company.

The worst of the storm had already passed, leaving behind soothing relief that washed the world of its sin. As much as you would have loved a window in your workshop to ponder the weather and get some natural light into the room, it’d unfortunately bring too much attention to your…pastimes. The things you did weren’t favorable to all, whether innocent or not. In their eyes, it was all the same, all done for the same purpose.

In a world like this one, you had to be vigilant and careful of who you trusted.

The less people who knew about you, the better.

So, you kept yourself and all you knew secret.

A couple more twists of your screwdriver was all it took for the little clockwork bird in your palm to come to life. Its wings twitched, stuttering at first, struggling to grind open and closed, too sleepy to wake. Its beak clicked, its tiny legs shuddered, and then, it took a breath.

Beady eyes found yours, and you grinned down at the creature, watching it flutter its wings before settling comfortably in the cup of your hand.

The wee thing must have belonged to a child, a once well-loved toy that was left to rust on the street. You spotted it tucked into the crook between a storefront and the cracked cement sidewalk, and took it in a split-second decision. It took a fair amount of disassembling and scrubbing to get all its components cleaned up and functioning again, but it was worth it in the end. Now, you had a companion to sit by you when you worked late nights.

Rising from your seat, you swept your hand around you, giving it a provisional tour of your workspace. It wasn’t much, really, but it’s the one thing you could distinctly call home.

“You’re lucky I found you,” you said, showing off the number of boxes containing various clockwork pieces. Gears, nuts, hinges, chains, whatever you could possibly need to fix something old, make something new. “I had everything I needed to get you all better. Couldn’t let you go to waste.”

It hopped, looking over all your tools and equipment judgmentally, like its tiny head could comprehend anything, then looked up at you, appraising.

Your lips curled upwards. “Not a thought behind those eyes, huh?”

You were both startled by the sound of a fist knocking against your front door. Firm, assertive, confident. The bird – a chickadee, you believed; you chose to name her Chicken on a whim – flew up from your hand and zipped out of your workshop, wings beating as fast as they could to carry her up to the space between the cupboards in the kitchen and the ceiling.

Heart pounding in your chest and sinking low, you slowly slinked out of the room, walking on the tips of your toes. You slid your inner wrist across a hidden panel on the wall inside of it as you went, triggering a mechanism that whirred quietly. A pocket door closed shut behind you, sealing until it was flush with the wall and completely invisible, hiding your secrets. To anyone who didn’t know, they’d simply believe that no room existed behind that particular wall to begin with.

You weren’t expecting any guests. Nobody had messaged you regarding work, you lived in a low-contact, low-population area, and never gave your address out. Most likely, it was someone you knew, but you always had to be cautious. Anybody could come stalking up to your home, weasel their way through the gaps of your teeth, choke you from the inside out until you turned blue. You had to be careful, because any mistake could get you in deep shit.

Any mistake could spell your doom.

Permanently.

You stalked across the floor, wanting to give the illusion that nobody was home unless you proved you could allow entry to whoever was seeking refuge within your walls. Options for if they weren’t friendly flashed in your mind; the blade on the small table beside the door, the pistol in its drawer, the fire escape. Worst case scenario, you could either fight, or climb out the window in your bathroom.

Leaning against the door ever so gently, you stood higher on your toes to peek out the peephole, adjusting until you could see who was on the other side, and almost melted in relief. Safe.

Letting a cheeky smirk tilt your lips, you undid the range of locks on your door and pried it open, taking in the familiar face on the other side. You hadn’t realized how much you missed the man until you were face-to-face again. What was that saying – distance makes the heart grow fonder?

“Well, I’ll be,” you crooned, saccharine sweet. “If it isn’t one Mr. John Price.”

“Good to see you, too, doll,” he responded lazily, tipping his head in greeting, his voice as rough and drawling as you remembered. He still wore that silly boonie hat of his, still had that odd excuse of a beard, and still looked at you with those knowing, icy orbs. He grunted out a small ‘thanks’ when you stepped aside to let him in, taking no offense at your habit of opening the door only enough for him to fit through before it was closed behind him once more. Locked tight. Just in case.

Raindrops clung to his shoulders and the brim of his hat, dotting them like silver crystals, gems held together by surface tension, not yet ready to burst and seep into the fibers of his woolen jacket.

You motioned towards the tiny, two-seater table you had situated beside the end of the kitchen counter and moved to fill your kettle with water and plant it on the stove. Behind you, a chair scraped out from under the table, and John groaned lowly as he esconced into it, joints cracking.

“Sure you aren’t ready to retire yet, old man?” You teased, dropping sugar cubes into one of the two mugs you pulled from the cupboard above you. A tea bag went into each one – black tea, and butterfly pea tea. A rare taste of color in such a bleak, copper world. You knew he wasn’t particular to it, though.

“Maybe, I should,” he said. He sounded tired, worn down, taking your jest a bit too seriously for your liking.

Troubled, you looked over your shoulder, and found him staring at the wood grain beneath his clutched hands, unseeing. Distracted and distant – nothing like the man you knew. Granted, it’d been a while since you last met up, but you were confident enough to say that this behavior was very unlike him.

Sensing he needed some time to gather his thoughts, you kept busy with pouring the boiled water into the mugs, adding a spot of cream into both, and bringing them over to the table. Black tea for him, sweetened butterfly pea tea for you. Same as it had always been between you.

Your new friend must have decided John was safe, if you were treating him as a companion. She hopped down from the cabinets and flew over to him, landing on his shoulder.

That broke him out of his shaky trance.

He turned his head to eye her curiously, and she tilted hers in return, beady pupils taking in his features; scraggly, rugged, and something distinctly him.

“New project?” He voiced, drawing his mug towards himself.

“Found her on the street a few blocks from here. Figured it’d be alright to patch her up.”

“She looks brilliant. Haven’t lost your touch, have you?”

Warmth spread through your chest, and not just from the tea you sipped down.

Silence with him was comfortable, but he was restless, needing to fill the quiet; you could sense it from your seat. Unusual.

“How are you holding up?” He queried.

You smiled placatingly. “All’s in working order. Don’t worry ‘bout me, Cap. How about you? How’re your boys?”

He sighed, weary and crushed by the unimaginable weight of responsibility on his shoulders.

“Could be better,” the man admitted. His vulnerability unsettled you.

The edge of your ceramic cup clinked dully on the table. “Your job starting to catch up with you?”

“Something like that.”

The quiet dragged on a beat too long for your liking. You’d seen him in all sorts of states before, but dejected was not one of them. It made you uneasy, restive. Nervous, which was never good.

John Price was many things. Strong, certainly, anybody could see that. A capable leader, older and wiser than his visible age would leave you to believe. Smart, thoughtful, he planned everything in advance and never did things on a whim. His visit to you was deliberate, organized. Why?

“Heard a silo blew up a couple miles outside the city. That you?” You propped your chin up on the heel of your hand, fingers curled against your cheek, filling the empty air between you with something.

A muscle in his jaw fluttered. “Failed mission. Got bad intel. They had the whole place rigged. By the time we cleared the building, it was too late.”

Rage flickered to life beneath your ribs, your nose wrinkling along the bridge. The joints of your knuckles clicked, nails digging into your palm.

Gangsters, packs, cliques, whatever you wanted to call them, they were a pestilence. Rotten, parasitic cretins that leeched off the backs of the poor, taking the little money and land they owned. If you could, you’d burn them yourself, strip them of their flesh, their dignity, their pride, reveal the poison that spoiled the gums lining their necrotizing teeth and corroded their innards into melted puddles of decaying goop; once organs, now unrecognizable viscera.

It was people like them that would execute men who weren’t able to cough up protection money from their starved gullets and take their wives and daughters.

It was people like them that triggered the downfall of technology, all because they felt inferior to a different form of being, too slow to keep up with the quickening times.

They missed their train, and decided to blow out the entire railroad in the name of unjust revenge.

“Damn savages,” you grit out. “They’re trying to scare us out of the city.”

It was a war that never ended. There was always at least one power-hungry group that attempted to gain stance by eradicating communities, usually those of the lower class. They believed owning more property gave them more control, but all it did was harm the innocent and aid the powerful, who hated those they viewed as lesser. All it did was show off their insecurities, the knowledge that they were utterly, completely, entirely useless. Wastes of breath, of space.

Oh, how you hated them. They were the reason you were here, playing the part of faceless aide to those who offered the right price and hired for the right reason. Whether directly or indirectly, it made no difference to you.

“That’s what we’re tryin’ to stop,” John said.

Chicken chirped idly, hopping across the broad expanse of his shoulder.

You observed her, subconsciously fidgeting with the handle of your cup. Your finger rubbed at the chip imprinted on the material after you’d dropped it some ageless time ago, a habit, wired twiddling.

Small talk wasn’t your strong suit, neither was patience. It was time to address the dead elephant in the room.

“Why did you come here, John?”

“...Callin’ in a favor,” he confessed, hands holding his tea like a lifeline, absorbing its warmth until his knuckles paled to the bone. “I’ll pay you triple for your services, as well. Up front.”

Fuck.

Triple was a lot. You needed the money desperately, and that would be more than enough and then some to last you at least half a year if you were prodigal, a year if you were frugal.

More importantly, though, John Price was an old friend to you. You both owed a lot to each other, and a man such as him wasn’t exceptionally keen on calling for aid; so, if he was consulting you, you knew it was deeply serious, and felt compelled to support him.

Exhaling, you mulled over his offer. “Must be dire, if you want a favor.”

“We need as many hands as we can get.”

“Is Kate aware you’re hiring…let’s say, assistance?”

He huffed sardonically, the corner of his lip twitching upwards. “She was the one that sent me here.”

You snorted. “Of course. Men are never good at knowing when to ask for help.”

“Well aware, unfortunately.”

The captain paid no mind to the toy chickadee that had taken to pecking at his beard. Pointless, really, but you couldn’t blame her. She didn’t know any better. She didn’t know she was nothing but a toy in the opinion of most.

Something you could relate to.

“What’s the job?”

He subtly looked around your small flat, ever-vigilant of his surroundings, even in your hideout. You didn't judge him. While you had made sure there were no forms of surveillance, checking your space frequently, the walls always had ears for those nosy enough.

“Not safe to talk here,” he decided. “Got a place not far from here. Will you come with me?”

You considered what you had to do. Cleaning up your workshop (that’s been on the checklist since forever. You were confident you’d get to it, someday), settling on which bills you were going to pay, wallowing in the anxiety of your spiraling thoughts, rewatching your favorite show for the nth time until you passed out on the couch again…

“Sure, why not.”

John waited patiently while you poured out the tea you hardly drank down the drain and filled the cups with water, stuffed a backpack with a few necessities. Kindly, he looked away when you hesitated in front of your workshop entrance, allowing you the privacy of grabbing a few belongings from there. All that time, short minutes that they were, Chicken perched atop the table, watching you scurry around.

You threw on a jacket afterwards, grabbed her, stuffed her into your pocket, and spent a couple minutes meticulously twisting every lock on your door and pushing against it to ensure it held. Paranoia and old habits were hard things to shake – not that you had any interest in doing so. Letting your guard down was the fastest way to getting yourself ripped to shreds.

The rain had slowed into a drizzle, the kind that fogged glasses and stuck to hair, but didn’t soak the clothes. Chicken remained tucked away regardless, your little stowaway, curled in your hand.

The neighborhood you’d taken to was eerily silent, the lack of noise only interrupted by the flecks of water that landed on worn, moth-eaten awnings and overfilled trash bins. It wasn’t an ideal choice, it kind of sucked, actually, which is why you chose it. It was an ugly thing, though not outright dangerous, and scared away potential straying eyes. Everyone minded their business, for the most part.

More importantly, it meant that you were safe, in a backwards sort of way.

Less people meant less risk of being found out. Your neighborhood held no interest for the greedy.

You let him guide the way down twisting streets and through narrow alleyways, keeping pace by sheer force of will alone (fuck him and his long-ass strides), until the spaces between businesses and housing grew further and further apart.

Cracks in cement sidewalks made way for flora – grass, flowers, spurge euphorbia. Fragile, pintsized life, seen as so wholly meaningless to most. Unnoticeable, unnoteworthy.

You saw them, anyway. You paid attention to the yellow-green leaves with dried tips that housed a poisonous, milky lifeblood. You took note of the few bees that found their way to this sad part of town, feeding on weak, pitiful blooms of miniscule white and gold. Sometimes, you stopped to observe, to track a dewdrop of water as it raced its way down a stem, or decorate the delicate petals of roses that survived in the rough, somehow.

You’d thought to smell them from time to time, to give in to the idiom, but the smell of roses only made you feel sick in the base of your throat. Flowers weren’t your favorite. Pretty to look at, nothing more. The thought of cutting them from their source of vitality for the sole purpose of letting them wilt in your homestead and flood the space with their decaying scent made you morose. It was a low form of flattery. You preferred them alive and thriving, blessing the world as much as they could.

That way, you could admire from a distance, draw inspiration from their brilliant colors and intricate weaving, and not be suffocated by their overpowering presence.

You were a witness to this world as much as you were a conscious actuality within it.

You preferred to keep it that way, when possible.

No words passed between you, save for the scuffle of soles on solid ground. You doubted he walked the whole way to your flat, he wasn’t soaked to the muscle from the rain, but walking back made sense. It was easier to cover where you were going by twisting and turning every which way.

John seemed satisfied by the time he trotted down a set of stairs that led to a cellar door beneath a store in a mixed use building. A front, presumably, a farce to keep attention away. Respecting that, you kept your sights on the back of his head as he punched in a keycode into the door. A lock hummed audibly, then clicked, allowing him to push open the door.

He jerked his head towards it and you slipped in past him, waiting patiently for him to step inside, too, and close the entrance, sealing you inside the makeshift safehouse.

It was lit up brightly, initially causing you to squint in discomfort before you adjusted. A table, some chairs, a kitchenette, what looked to be a simple bathroom off to the side. Blank, cement walls, a painfully sterile yet somehow mangy feel. All the basic necessities that a safehouse should have.

Which, yes, included two other guys and a few guns set on the table, alongside scattered pieces of paper and various other objects you didn’t bother paying too much attention to.

You stared at the two men, who had stopped whatever it was they were doing (one looked to have been cleaning a gun while the other was…sketching?), and they stared right back, not necessarily hostile, but certainly alert.

John stepped up beside you and planted a firm hand on your shoulder, reassuring. He always was far more perceptive than he let on.

“Boys, this is the mercenary that’ll be joining us for the foreseeable future. Kate and I can vouch for her,” he introduced you, then went from left to right, pointing out each man as he went. “Kyle Garrick and John MacTavish, my sergeants.”

The former nodded his head in greeting. placing the gun down to give you his full attention. Kyle Garrick was the picture of masculine beauty. Plush, slightly rosy, full lips were complimented by neatly trimmed and maintained facial hair along the line of his jaw and upper lip. His dark skin looked smooth and clean, well-nourished; you imagined it might have felt like firm pottery clay. Beneath long, thick lashes were a pair of glossy orbs, a surprising shade of hazel that suited him perfectly.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he said, polite as can be.

MacTavish, on the other hand, wolf-whistled, shameless in the way he looked you up and down. “Aren’t ye a bonnie thing?”

The first thing you clocked was his accent, distinctly Scottish, maybe from somewhere in the Highlands. The next was that he had a rough sort of handsomeness to him, with high cheekbones, a sharply angled jaw, straight brows, and a strong chin. Cerulean orbs took you in, glinting with mischief and interest alike, such a striking splash of ocean capri that it caught you off guard. Finally, you noticed his mohawk, and you had to hold back a snort.

It was boyish, yet you couldn’t imagine any other style on him, despite having known him for all of ten seconds.

“Johnny,” a voice came from across the room, heavy on the warning tone, and you squeaked, startled out of your skin.

You looked up at the man you hadn’t noticed before, balking at his sheer bulk and, more importantly, how he managed to hide said bulk so well, like a ghost. He easily breached over 6 feet tall and donned a balaclava painted in the image of a skull, dark and brooding from where he was leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his, frankly, greatly oversized chest. It almost made you feel self conscious.

You resisted the urge to squeeze your own tits to compare.

It was his eyes that creeped you out the most, though.

Chestnut irises bored into you, appearing nearly pitch black from the way his brows shaded his sockets, except for the sliver of amber at the very bottom, ringed by inked lines, a stunning tattoo. It was like he was peering straight through you, carving into your being, flaying your chest open to bare your raw lungs and heart to him.

Price chuckled at your reaction, and you shot him a glare. “And, that would be Ghost, my lieutenant.”

Oh. You hit the nail right on the head with that one.

“Och, c’mon, LT,” Johnny whined. Honest to god, whined. “Jus’ sayin’ hallo tae the lass. Ye dinnae mind, do ye, hen?”

You pulled your lips back and shrugged. You weren’t opposed to compliments. “Not a bit.”

A stellar, blindingly white grin split across his face, cheeks pushing his aquamarine orbs into pretty little crescents. Somehow, it made your stomach flutter. “Knew you wouldnae.”

Kyle sighed, albeit fondly. “Ignore him, Tav’s an incorrigible flirt.”

“Am no’!”

“You’ll bat your lashes at any girl you see.”

Pouting, Johnny folded his arms over his chest. “Tha’s only ‘cos ye dinnae even have tae try. Ye’re such a pretty boy tha’ all ye have tae do is smile an’ the skirts come flyin’ off. Isnae fair.”

Taking the route of ignoring the brooding man, Kyle smiled disarmingly at you (oh, Johnny was right, that smile could win him millions). “So, you’re a mercenary?”

“Yep,” you confirmed, popping the ‘p’. MacTavish’s indignant outrage at being brushed off amused you greatly.

Only for Ghost to scare the fuck out of you a second time by speaking up again, reminding you of his existence. His voice was heavy, gruff, laced with a thick Manchester accent. It fit the image he cultivated, if it was worth making your heart shoot out of your ass. “What’s your experience?”

He’s vetting you.

Best thing you could do was entertain him. Building trust was all about answering questions when asked.

“Mostly infiltration, data gathering, tracking folks down via digital footprint, that kind of stuff,” you said.

His eyes narrowed microscopically. You picked up on the detail, and knew he was trying to pick apart your answer. He wanted more information, proof you were an ally, someone that could be relied on.

Someone who was capable of getting her hands dirty.

“She’s worked with Laswell before,” John tacked on.

He wasn’t wrong, you and Kate Laswell were familiar with each other, and had partnered up on a couple occasions. Mutually beneficial, of course. You gave her eyes on the ground, got your hands on slippery intel, and she sent you rare and difficult to find parts, items that money couldn’t buy, not easily. With her, it wasn’t about the cash – she did still pay her fair share, mind you – but a deeper sense of sympathy, of understanding.

She knew what it was like for you, to live in this world, this hellscape that did everything it could to tear you down. She knew, so she took care of you in little ways when she could. You never said no. You couldn’t afford to, regardless of how much you wanted to bristle and proclaim total indepence.

Sadly, it just didn’t work like that.

You’ve had time to come to terms with it. The fact that you couldn’t exist solely on your own terms, that you needed people, as few as you could get away with.

Which ended up being two: John Price and Kate Laswell.

You had every intention of keeping it that way, no matter how much time you were going to spend working with this motley crew, how close you’d have to stand beside them.

It’s fine. You had plenty of familiarity with keeping people at arm’s length.

“What kind o’ data?” Johnny questioned, having turned a chair around to sit in it backwards, beefy forearms (wow) propped up on the backrest.

“Money wires, shady activity, locations at given dates and times. Honestly, most of it is pretty boring and mundane. I don’t go out on the field super often.”

“An’, when ye do?”

You hesitated, shifting your weight from one leg to the other. You hated the attention, hated how it made you break out into a nervous sweat, antsy and jittery. It made you look suspicious, especially with a crowd like this. The limelight was never meant for you, and you respected that wholeheartedly.

“I do what I have to do to finish a job,” you eventually muttered, less than satisfactory, but at least it was something.

It appeased three of the four men present. John by fact that he already knew what your job entailed, had worked with you before, and Johnny and Kyle for reasons beyond you.

Ghost?

Earning his trust would be difficult, if possible at all. Something that had to be forged in battle, in the heat, drenched in blood next to one another.

You’ll never earn their full trust, a voice whispered in your head. You’ll always be a lying bastard, and nobody likes a lying bastard.

If you won’t let them in, what makes you think they’ll let you in?

Because, your life depended on it.

That was always your justification, and it worked well for you every time you had to use it. Every day of your life was lived on the edge, constantly on your toes. You were cogent in keeping everyone three paces ahead of you, maintaining distance.

For your sake, and theirs.

It’s just temporary, anyway, you mused. I’ll get this job done, and we’ll all go our separate ways.

That was the plan you had set up for yourself. You were good at honoring plans. It was practically coded into you, an instinctive habit to heed a set path from point A to point B. Get the job done, get out, get paid. Well, that last one was going to happen first, if John was to be believed about paying you up front, but the concept remained the same.

The only trust you needed was confidence that they’d cover your back in the field, and you’d cover theirs.

You knew John had yours and, if the praise you’d heard from him about his boys was to be believed, they would have yours by proxy, too.

They’re good men, those mutts. Maybe not good people, but none of us really are at the end of the day, huh? Not in this line of work. Least of all an old rag like me. We get our hands dirty so the world can stay clean.

So, in return, you’d have theirs. It was simultaneously the least and most you could do.

For the sake of keeping the world clean.

Each man tensed when a squawk sounded from your jacket pocket, and you watched as Chicken climbed her way out, determined to escape her warm, fluffy prison. Without a lick of hesitation, she jumped up and immediately flew over to Kyle, circling his head a few times before she dropped onto his shoulder and promptly began nuzzling into his neck.

“Uhh…” He was frozen in place, taken aback.

You smirked, bemused that your partner-in-crime’s loyalty lied in who she considered prettiest. “Looks like she likes you.”

Johnny cooed, radiating golden retriever energy, invisible tail wagging as he checked out the clockwork contraption. “Who’s this wee thing?”

“That’s Chicken. Found her and fixed her up. Seems she’s whipped for Garrick over here.”

“Ye named ‘er ‘Chicken’?”

“It’s because she’s a chickadee. Couldn’t think of anything more fitting.”

Kyle laughed softly, raising a finger to lightly brush against her belly. “Hello, Chicky. You’re a sweet thing, aren’t you?”

“She’s a little dumb,” you shrugged. “Curious creature. I think that’s how she got lost the first time, having flown off from her owner. Ended up in a ditch for me to find.”

John rubbed a hand over his chin. “She was pecking at my beard earlier.”

“I do believe she was trying to preen you.”

“Preen me?”

“That,” you cocked your head to the side, “or find bugs to eat.”

Kyle and Johnny burst into laughter at their captain’s perturbed expression, to which Chicken joined in with little chirps of her own.

Velvet and warm, that’s how it felt, seeing how the boys interacted with one another. Playful jabs and ribbing, continued cackles, Johnny’s harmless attempts to snatch the bird away from Kyle. It was painfully obvious how much they cared for each other. To be able to act like boys, the brothers-in-arms that they were, was a rare and precious thing. If nothing else, you hoped you could come away from this experience with the memory of happiness, however small it may be.

“What about her original owner?” Kyle asked as they calmed down, admiring the small chickadee’s bronze sheen.

The smile you wore fell away, replaced by a deep, harsh seriousness.

“If people are going to treat her like she’s nothing more than a toy, then they won’t miss her when she’s gone,” you grit out slowly.

“Seems like it’s an important topic to you,” he murmured. Gently repositioning Chicken in his hold, he stretched out his hand to you, offering her back – much to Chicken’s displeasure. The angry series of squawks let you know exactly how she felt about leaving her Prince Charming “Here.”

You shook your head. “Keep her. She likes you more than me, anyway. Just make sure to take good care of her, or I’ll hunt you down and turn you into a clock.”

He snorted, but accepted the gift, lifting his other hand to scritch at Chicken’s tiny little forehead. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The puffed chickadee appeared more than delighted to learn Kyle would be keeping her, leaning into his touch and chirping up a mechanical storm. You laughed under your breath, relieved to know he’d treat her well. You could see it in the way he cradled her, in how he pet her with only one digit. They were smitten at first sight, who were you to take that away from them?

“If she ever starts getting faulty or breaks, let me know, and I’ll repair her again.”

“I will,” he promised.

It brought you joy, knowing how much they loved each other already. A small fragment of light born from a new love in a dull, muted, dark world. If you could only do one thing, it would be this; adding as many spots of color to each and every day as you could. There was cheer to be found in even the weest of lifeforms, if one knew where to look. Sometimes, all they needed was a guiding hand.

If that was all you could be in this world, you’d happily take up the mantle.

You felt John fill the empty space to your left, unhurriedly, purposeful. Effortlessly, he pulled you into a different place, a different existence, present yet far away from the others.

“Do they know?” You spoke in a muted tone, a conversation meant only for you and the captain.

John hummed his dissent. “I didn't tell them.”

You weren’t able to turn away from the sight of Kyle and Johnny playing with the former’s new companion and partner in (legal) (ish) crime. Greedy, that’s what you were. Greedy for any scrap of mirth you could find, whether yours or someone else’s “Won't that come back to bite you in the ass? What with trust and all.”

He gazed at you for a long, drawn out moment of time. Then, his hand eclipsed your upper back, comforting and reassuring in its weight, in the warmth that seeped through your clothing.

“I'd rather deal with a few angry soldiers to protect you. I know my boys, they're loyal, they don’t hate your kind, nor would they turn you in. I just don't want them to treat you differently. You're one of us, now.”

How true were his words? He knew his team better than anybody else, you knew that, but even the most open of people kept secrets. Was there really no judgement to be had in this circle, or was it a matter of distance?

From afar, caring was difficult, but once brought together, prejudices came to light.

So, how long could precarious balance last?

Your attention shifted from the pair of sergeants to the geist that lingered in the shadows, and a chill ran down the length of your back when you saw him, looming as he always had. It wasn’t his size, nor the way the light seemed to avoid him, no.

It was the fact that he was already staring at you.

banners by saradika-graphics ♥

lemme know if there's any formatting issues or if I missed anything <3

#This Tiny Thing Called Entropy #task force 141 x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader #gaz x reader #price x reader #john mactavish x reader #simon riley x reader #kyle garrick x reader #john price x reader #chimera writes

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prokopetz · 11 months ago

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A question that's come up a few times regarding the revised draft of Eat God is how to come up with Expressions to go with your Forms. Some folks have gotten the idea that Expressions are meant to narrow the scope of your Forms by putting prescriptive boundaries on the circumstances under which they can be used, when in fact it's the opposite – they're meant to broaden the circumstances under which your Traits can be tagged for bonus dice by linking each one to a dimension of your character's personality; tagging a lot of Forms on tests relating to mental and social pursuits is going to be tough, but their Expressions give you added flexibility.

As a user on the Penguin King Games Discord aptly put it, Expressions reflect "[...] the lived experience of moving in the world in this particular muppet body". The current draft doesn't contain much by way of example, however (mostly owing to the Forms list not yet being finalised), so I thought I might offer a few examples here in case anyone would find that helpful. Here are some fairly prosaic examples of the sorts of Expressions one might attach to various Forms:

Bottomless Belly

Indulgent – You encourage people to try new experiences, culinary or otherwise.

Refined – That you can eat literally anything does not oblige you to be indiscriminate; perish forbid!

Firm Flesh

Patient – You've got all the time in the world.

Stubborn – You're hard-headed in more ways than one.

Hundred-Handed

Self-reliant – Who needs a helping hand when you've so many of your own?

Absent-minded – Sometimes the left hand really doesn't know what the right hand is doing.

Primordial Power (Fire)

Hot-blooded – Your feelings burn as hot as your flesh.

Fatalist – The flame that burns brightest burns briefest, and oh, you've burned so very bright.

Prismatic Pelt

Forthright – There's no sense being coy about your feelings when you literally wear them on your sleeve.

Unassuming – You prefer to fade into the background, both literally and metaphorically.

Superior Sense (Hearing and Touch)

Busybody – Oh, you know it's really none of your business, but you couldn't help but overhear...

Paranoid – Can anybody else hear that? How can they not hear that?

(You might notice that many of these pairs of examples adopt precisely opposite interpretations of the underlying Form – which is, of course, the whole point. The wordplay element of many of them is also encouraged, but by no means not mandatory.)

If anyone would like to try their hand at putting together some of their own examples, whether involving these Forms or any of the thirty-ish others in the game's current draft that I haven't covered here, please, feel free – I'd love to get other people's perspectives on how best to make use of this feature of the game's rules, and more worked examples is always better than fewer.

(Note: this brainstorming topic has been cross-posted to the Penguin King Games Discord if you're more comfortable posting over there.)

#gaming #tabletop roleplaying #tabletop rpgs #eat god #game design #food mention

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 10 months ago

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𝐖𝐈𝐏 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄

rules — list the names/titles of docs in your WIP folder + open your inbox to have people ask about them!

@storiesoflilies thank you for the tag lily 🥺 this was so much fun to put together !!! i have way too many wips to put them all here, but i tried to narrow it down to the ones i’ve at least started working on … also didn’t include any drabbles, just fics !!

please feel free to ask about any of them, it’d make my day <333 most of these have been haunting me for…. a while lmao

true love is possible only in the next world

sorcerer!satoru x new hire!reader ; canon au, slowburn, satoru gojo is bad at feelings.

our need grows teeth

bunny!gojo x wolf!reader ; hybrid au, predator/prey dynamics, academic rivals.

i would have told you i was lonely too.

teacher!suguru x curse user!reader ; role reversal au, hurt/comfort, exes to lovers

come, come over here to me, to the place where the fox sleeps

kitsune!geto x reader ; (mild) dark content, imbalanced power dynamic, intense devotion.

the day before yesterday, i saw a rabbit

suguru x reader ; timeloop au, angst, obsession.

i’ll make a house inside of you, i’ll go in through the mouth

wolf/hunter!suguru x little red riding hood!reader ; fairy tale au, (mild) dark content, horror elements, forced captivity (yan!sugu).

be still my foolish heart (don’t ruin this on me)

childhood friend!suguru x reader ; university au, jealousy & pining, fluff.

give a heart to me and flowers for you

cult leader!geto x preschool teacher!reader ; sickening amounts of fluff.

first, consider the hairpin turn

best friend’s brother!kenjaku x reader ; teasing, tension, fractured narrative.

i slithered here from eden just to sit outside your door

tactician!kenjaku x monarch!reader ; historical royalty au, secret relationship, blind loyalty

i couldn’t get the boy to kill me, but i wore his jacket for the longest time

naoya x male!reader ; childhood friends, angst, violently homoerotic tension

no pressure tags; @mieiri @satoruxx @stellamancer @nappingmoon @kissxcore @kisstoru 🌷🌷🌷

#all of these are very precious to me !!!!#…. though it’ll take me a while to write them #:’3 #wanted to add some more but this is already plenty ;;#tag game ✩

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tsukimefuku · 1 year ago

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✎ᝰ. jujutsu partners au masterlist

mdni | canon divergence | multigenre | nanami x reader x higuruma

cross posting: on ao3 here.

ᝰ summary: ten years after a mission gone bad in which gojo and nanami saved your life, you go — against your will — to work at jujutsu high as a sorcerer. you just never hoped this would elicit working alongside partners, and getting too close to them might turn out messy. this is a sequence of one-shots set in the same canon divergent alternate universe, in which Reader is a sorcerer with a considerably complicated relationship with Jujutsu High.

ᝰ important info: they're all written and posted in a non-linear fashion. To keep some organized way of reading them all, the fics are listed in chronological order below. Writing in this is kind of experimental, so writing style might differ from one story to another.

ᝰ a/n: blue for Nanami focused stories | orange for Higuruma focused stories | both for both | stories with other characters have no particular color.

+ Disclaimers

- CONTAINS NSFW CONTENT. Do not proceed unless 18+! - Contains angst, fluff, and slow burn. - There will be more multi chapter short stories. - The one-shots are listed in chronological order. - I write flawed characters — and when I say flawed, I mean FLAWED. They can (and sometimes will) be idiots, assholes, mess up, make mistakes and make up. This is an important one, please don't ignore it. - I’ve decided this will be an actual triangle (fight me)

+ One-shots, short-stories and drabbles (in chronological order of events)

Stories below will be tagged as follows:

To be loved is to be changed (light/implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛😂 The day you arrived at Jujutsu High and encountered friends from the past.

These silly little memories (light/implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛😂 You reminisce about the past while chatting with Ijichi and Yuuji.

In my shoes (light/implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 💥💔💛 You get severely injured while on one of your first missions with Nanami.

Tea for your thoughts (light/implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛 Soft drabble where you receive tea waking up after a terrible night.

Valentine's Day and dark chocolate (light/implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛 You bought a box of chocolates you don't really like.

Would you let me die? (light/implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛💔💋 You and Nanami have a significant conversation, and you request something of him.

Driving lesson (Platonic Ijichi & OC/Reader) 💛😂 You asked Ijichi for some driving lessons.

Wardrobe malfunction (Light Nanami x OC/Reader) 😂 Your cursed technique isn't exactly clothing-friendly, and when you find yourself in a less than ideal situation, you only had one person you could ask for help.

Nanamin (light Nanami x OC/Reader) 😂 You ask Nanami why people keep calling him “Nanamin”.

Photo, motto! (Yuuji, Nobara and Megumi chaotic trio, light/implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 😂💛 Yuuji, Nobara and Megumi are shocked to learn you have no social media accounts, and decide to change that. However, things don't go as planned.

About witches and villages that hate sorcerers (light/implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 💔💥 What happens when your communication gets cut off during a mission in a village, and everyone knew you went there in the wrong state of mind?

Kikufuku picnic gratitude (Platonic Gojo x OC/Reader) 💛 Your friend Satoru Gojo just had some intense news and needs company.

The search for the man in the black suit (Higuruma & OC/Reader)💥 You were assigned to find and capture Higuruma Hiromi, a curse user sentenced to death by Jujutsu higher ups. You're just not sure if he really deserves to die.

Suspended death row (0%)

Toxic endeavors (Higuruma & OC/Reader)💥💔 You and Higuruma are on your third mission together, and you save him from getting injured, putting yourself in harm's way as you do so.

Team fighting (light Higuruma x OC/Reader) 💛😂 You decided to train team fighting with Higuruma in an unorthodox way.

Short story: Right, wrong and the in-between (Nanami, OC/Reader, Higuruma) 💛💔💥 You and Higuruma were assigned to investigate the disappearance of women around Shinjuku. This led to a dicey situation regarding what place Jujutsu sorcerers occupy in this world and what is their role to play when non-sorcerers get involved. Chapters: Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Epilogue

Crooked gardening (light/implied Higuruma x OC/Reader) 💛 Higuruma keeps thinking about something you have done for him, and takes a walk to clear his mind.

Kindness and sunflowers (light/implied Higuruma x OC/Reader) 💛😂💋 You get a drunk Higuruma safely home.

Short story: Colleagues in arms 💥 Nanami and Higuruma are dispatched to exorcize a curse together, having to conciliate their personal issues in order to get the job done. Chapters: Single chapter

Where does your mind drift? (light Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛💔💋 After you and Nanami get stranded trying to get back to Tokyo, you both end up having a chat about your feelings.

The event, Part 1 (explicit! Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛💋🌶️ after struggling for so long with the feelings you had for nanami, your colleague and closest friend, you finally decide to put an end to your misery and confess to him. little did you know there was no misery left for you to wallow in that night — none at all.

PRIV FOR REWRITE -The event, Part 2 (Nanami x OC/Reader) 💔💋 The aftermath of The Event, Part 1. Nanami needs to have a serious talk with you.

The man who played with fire (explicit! Higuruma x OC/Reader) 💛💋🌶️ After some drinks by yourself and getting frustrated with someone, you stupidly knock on Higuruma's door to test a theory.

The morning after is still last night (Higuruma x OC/Reader) 💛💋 After last night, you and Higuruma share a brief pillow talk.

What if (Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛💔💋 What if the world was more forgiving, and you and Nanami never became jujutsu sorcerers?

Short story: Lover's Pass (Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛💔💥💋 You and Nanami were sent to investigate cursed activity linked to disappearances in the Lover's Pass. Meanwhile, you both still have to deal with the fallout that happened after the last time you were together. Chapters: Single chapter

Bartender confessions (Nanami x OC/Reader) 💔 Nanami is trying to drink himself into oblivion to get his mind off of you.

Tactics (explicit! Higuruma x OC/Reader) 💛💋🌶️ You and Higuruma finally go on your first not-date when you decide to give him an answer.

Human resources, tasukete! (Gojo / Shoko / Ijichi. Fluff Higuruma x OC/Reader, just crack, honestly) 💛💔😂 You're concerned and decide to ask your friends about Jujutsu High's HR policies regarding romantic relationships.

It takes one to know one (Higuruma x OC/Reader) 💛💋 You and Higuruma decide to make a promise to each other.

Tie me up (explicit! Higuruma x OC/Reader) 😂💋🌶️ After failing to make a romantic dinner, you're very upset. Hiromi volunteers to “help you out” with that frustration.

Tea and coffee (Higuruma x OC/Reader, implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 💔💛😂 - You had a sleepless night and needs some caffeine to keep yourself from falling asleep before the day has even begun, so Nanami and Hiromi lend a helping hand.

Short story: Old regrets and guilt ridden pasts 💔💛💋🌶️ After you enter Hiromi's domain and he meets an acquaintance from the past, you both see yourselves confronting ancient ghosts and old regrets. Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (10%)

Bread for breakfast (Higuruma x OC/Reader, implied past Nanami x OC/Reader) 💔 - Hiromi decides to walk down to a bakery he likes and have breakfast before heading to Morioka, and ends up bumping into Nanami.

Fixing broken things (implied/soft Nanami x OC/Reader) 💔💛 - After you realize that everything you were taking care of just wound up crooked anyway, you're pissed and needs a helping hand in order to not let the anger get the better of you.

Forgiveness is a collective resource (platonic Gojo & OC/Reader) 💔💛 - As you're telling Gojo about your most recent fallout, he ends up telling you in return the last question Geto posed him before leaving.

The letter (Higuruma x OC/Reader)

💔 - Reader writes a letter to an absentee.

Books and dinner (coming soon…) 40%

Unwell (implied/soft Nanami x OC/Reader)

💔💛 - you had a terrible day, but at least, you’ve got a helping hand.

Bar discoveries (coming soon…) 0%

No more patience behind the wheels (platonic Ijichi & OC/Reader)

💛😂 - your friend ijichi has become the unwilling listener to all your woes, and it is definitely taking a toll on him, so he decided to take the matters into his own hands and try to solve your communication problems for you.

Eulogy for the love remained (coming soon...) 30%

How do you say it? (soon) 0%

Bad dream (nanami x OC/reader) 💛 - after a bad night filled with nightmares, nanami is glad to see you never left his apartment.

In-office nap time (soon) 0%

The scars we carry (soon) 0%

Something’s off (soon) 0%

…

The ship of Theseus 0%

+ About and P.A.Q. (Possibly Asked Questions)

Q: How did this come to be? This came into my mind as I was thinking about my Jujutsu Kaisen Original Character, Shiori Yamada. She is from my JJK Canon Compliant fanfic, Sand and Snow. I thought: what if she came to Jujutsu High years after the events of Sand and Snow? And that's where it started.

Q: What's the difference between the short stories and the one-shots? Mostly, I usually have a long or dedicated main plot in my short stories, whereas in the one-shots, what is written is much more focused on an excerpt of the characters' interactions.

Q: what is the best way to read this? I wrote it in a way that basically all one-shots can be read as stand-alone pieces (same for each short story). Just read in the chronological order of events, as listed above.

Q: is it the same f!reader in all of these stories? Yes, it is The reader is based off of my Original Character, Shiori. I didn’t intend to make her a staple, but just liked the character too much to let it slide. I’ll eventually make a reference sheet with her story (as soon as I finish Sand and Snow, to avoid spoilers).

+ Relevant updates + Notes

other updates can be checked on the reblog section

Playlist (a.k.a. stuff I listen to when writing these): ♪ Want me too - Mons Vi / ♪ Heart's a Mess - Gotye / ♪ It's gonna rain - Bonnie Pink / ♪ I love you so - The Walters / ♪ Ichigo Batake de Tsukamaete - Sunny Day Service / ♪ Setsuna - Sunny Day Service / ♪ For Emma - Bon Iver / ♪ Break - alex_g_offline / ♪ My love, mine all mine - Mitski / ♪ Babooshka - Kate Bush / ♪ One last kiss - Hikaru Utada / ♪ Tactics - The Yellow Monkey / ♪ Mr. Deja Vu - Naja / ♪ Stuck on the puzzle - Arctic Monkeys / ♪ We’re all eating each other - Julie Ivy / ♪ Head Over Feet - Alanis Morissette (HiguReader specific) / ♪ Nothing in my way - Keane (NanaReader specific) / ♪ I bet on losing dogs - Mitski / ♪ Chamber of reflection - Your Anxiety Buddy (cover) / ♪ Sunny - Yorushika / ♪ Sayonara Bye Bye - Matsuko Mawatari / ♪ Misery - Maroon 5 / ♪ First love/Late spring - Mitski / ♪ Heart skipped a beat - The XX

ׂ╰┈➤ You can listen to the full playlist here (on YouTube).

Update + Mar 26, 2024

I just decided to list all one-shots and short-stories together. Seemed more simple and efficient.

Update + Mar. 23, 2024

There are some things I want to put here because as an anxious writer, I like when other writers do this.

1. this is my COPIUM from the trauma I have endured during JJK (thanks Gege), so no matter what, THERE WILL BE A HAPPY ENDING for all characters. I just like the bumpy road, makes the happiness at the end feel worthwhile.

2. I decided to one-shot the ending. However, the long fic based off of this universe will probably have a slightly different and bigger one. There are many things (protagonist’s power journey, lore, her backstory, actual big plot that I have planned, etc) that I really want to write on the long fic, and didn’t find a way of doing so in these one-shots and short stories.

3. I don’t know if you’ve seen it, but I began cross posting these on AO3. The link is on the top.

4. The Big Sad™ and The Big Feels™ are about to get started. I’ll just finish up some one-shots first and then proceed with them. There will be angst, but a lot of fluff too.

Commentary

Random thoughts and fun facts from the author that absolutely no one asked for but I wanted to write anyway

Themes are... guilt, forgiveness, grief, and life after loss, I guess? Idk, I like writing characters interacting and growing with each other, so I just give them their trauma and let them work through it.

I first got inspired to write HiguReader when I listened to “Loser, Baby” from Hazbin Hotel. They’re both so over Jujutsu High’s shit and vibe on that shared contempt that I just loved the concept of it.

I was terrified writing my first smut piece (The Man who Played with Fire), and I’m astonished at how well it was received. You guys are the best, seriously.

I got inspired by some very talented authors on this site to write non-explicit sex scenes, and will try doing it in two or three one-shots, where there is sex involved, but I don’t think smut would fit very well.

Writing smut as a demisexual person is an entire experience, let’s just say that.

From the very beginning, I just found it impossible in my heart to ship or even hint at shipping OC/Reader and Gojo. Also, as a NM person who doesn’t appreciate rigid hierarchy of romantic x platonic relationships, I wanted to write more on becoming friends with Gojo. However, from what I could see when writing these fics and shorts, this will end up mostly in the long fic.

I STRUGGLE with headers so damn much. I don’t like using fanart (shy to ask for permission), and finding good fitting anime frames/manga panels is usually a little difficult without becoming too repetitive. I’ll just try my best making headers for the AU stories moving forward.

I like writing strong, capable, willful female characters who are secure of themselves and have got some rizz iykwim. Dainty female characters are really not my thing when it comes to writing.

Writing in 2nd person is still a challenge for me. I was used to writing in 1st person in a Lispectoresque style when I wrote ten years ago.

#jujutsu kaisen higuruma #higuruma x reader #jjk higuruma #jjk hiromi #hiromi x reader #higuruma hiromi #jjk imagines #jjk drabbles #jjk x you #jjk #jujutsu nanami #nanami kento #jjk nanami #jjk fanfic #nanami x reader #nanami x you #jujutsu kaisen #fuku writes #jujutsu partners au

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writefightblog · 19 days ago

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Welcome To Writefight!

A while back, I made a post musing about how artfight looks so cool, how much I wished there was a version of that for writers, and to my surprise, people actually told me they were interested! I thought the post wouldn't gain any traction, but instead, I found some like-minded users, and so...here we are! Writefight!

Okay, that's not much of an intro, but shhh

Like artfight, it started on July 1 (time zone doesn't matter), but it will go until August 31 due to me starting things on such short notice (sorry!). Participants will "attack" each other during that time by writing one-shots about each other's characters. You can involve as many characters as you want, or just focus on one.

Now, in artfight, the players are separated into two teams, and the teams attack each other; here, though, I was thinking we could just do a free-for-all where anyone can attack anyone, since this is a small group.

After receiving an attack, you can counter the attack by writing a one-shot about the attacker's characters, or you can pay it forward by attacking someone else.

In artfight, the attacks are scored with points, and the team with the most points at the end wins, but I'm not sure how we would do that here, so I figure we can just all attack and have fun and all be winners :D

First, though, post refs! Unlike artfight, these don't need to be visual, but images of the characters certainly can be in there. What we need are descriptions of the character's personality, mannerisms, backstory, role, relationships with other characters from the same story/canon you also have refs for, that sort of thing. If your characters are from a story up on the internet, link it! Snippets are also great! It would also be a good idea to talk at least a bit about the setting the characters are in, so I'd recommend grouping character refs by story/world/concept/whatever you're cooking. And if you can’t find a way to turn your vibes into words, just a link to the story is fine; you don’t need big detailed descriptions of each character! Just do whatever you’re comfortable with.

As in artfight, we should all also list any things we'd be uncomfortable with in terms of receiving attacks. For example, you might not want anyone to attack you with something gory or nsfw, or involving certain subjects. Or perhaps there's a certain character you wouldn't want to be involved in certain scenarios. We're small writers, and we want to be considerate, so let's make sure to put that in the refs as well.

Some other notes:

There's no limit on the amount of characters you can have refs for, though I'd recommend organizing them by either putting them all in one post or having one post per story/setting.

No minimum or maximum wordcount for attacks. We all write in different ways, and they're all valid :D

This probably goes without saying, but, y'know, be nice, follow standard internet etiquette, all that stuff.

By "characters", I'm going by artfight's general rules: original characters from original stories/concepts, original fanfic characters, and AU versions of canon characters.

Now, to put all the writefight stuff in one place, tag your refs and attacks and such with #writefight, and @ this blog, and I'll reblog them all.

(In terms of attacks, they can be posted wholly here on tumblr, or you can just post them on a writing site -- ao3, for example -- and link to them, or do both! Also, be sure to @ the participant you're attacking.)

A list of refs can be found here. I'll keep updating it as more ref posts come in!

Similarly, a list of attack links will go here.

I'm excited! Let's all have fun together and celebrate writing :D

#writefight #pinned post #writers #creative writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr

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theresattrpgforthat · 9 months ago

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Do you know of a ttrpg where travel is the main focus? Like I tried one ring and travel felt like a mini game rather than a key feature

THEME: Travel (Part 2)

Hello friend, so I’m firstly going to link you to this Travel Recommendation Post I put together in June of last year. (It’s a lot of posts and I didn’t tag it very well! Working on remedying that.)

Rig Rats, by kyusenbo.

The year is 30XX, and climate disasters and human negligence have brought the world to its knees. Only large, corporation-run cities remain, surrounded by large, climate-controlled domes. However, in order for these corpo cities to send and receive goods and services between each other, we need Rig Rats. These are ragtag teams of big rig operations rogues, needed to run rigs on the desert roads, to ensure that these deliveries make it on time through radar attacks, bad weather, and poor road conditions.

Rig Rats takes prime inspiration from Mad Max, and while the game itself is just two jpeg images with a list of rules and a few scribbles, just by reading it I think it can deliver that kind of high-octane experience. Each of your characters has a role on the rig, such as Driver, Mechanic, or Lookout. You get to decide what you’re carrying, and why your cargo makes things complicated.

Each session is a single trip from one city to another, so it makes the game great for one-shots, and the number of obstacles that can come up make your trip truly harrowing. Will the rig break down? Will you run into rival bandits that want your cargo? What about environmental hazards, like minefields or electrical storms? What if a singular guy in a really modded-out car shows up and kicks the shit out of you because he wants your gasoline?

Anyways, you should check out Rig Rats.

Gone Too Far, by The Badger’s Den.

Gone Too Far is a GM-less rules-lite narrative game about travelling to distant planets. It can be played as a solo journaling game or as a collaborative roleplaying game for up to three players.

Far in the future, mining & scientific corporations send scouts to distant places to find suitable expansion locations or useful resources. They use a risky teleportation technology that is high risk / high reward, as there is a chance the user will go out of range for a return journey.

You (and your friends if playing together) play as one of these scouts going to lost places and mineral-rich planets.

While much of this game is exploration-focused, the danger of travelling too far is central to the premise. You are voyaging to new and wondrous places with heavily experimental and limited technology; the possibility that you don’t make it back makes the portal roll incredibly important to the game, even though it only happens at the end of a player’s trip. You play this game over and over series of rounds; the player experience can be rather siloed from other people at the table, unless you choose to use an optional aid mechanic. As a result, I think Gone Too Far might work rather well as a solo or duet game, and is a great option to consider if you like themes of travelling through space.

Ferryfolk, by cthos

Another day, another fare, another series of mysterious islands to traverse. You are a Ferryfolk, though there are those who call you by an older name: Psychopomp. Your job is to guide lost souls down the river Styx and see them to their final destination unharmed and hopefully having learned a life lesson or two.

Only the weirdest and most difficult cases draw multiple Ferryfolk to a single boat, and you've been selected for the job! Travel from island to island facing the Fare's fears and memories and guide them to be a better person before they reach their Destination.

As a 24XX game, Ferryfolk is rather rules light, with everything you need to play in just 5 pages. It carries elements I typically associate with the OSR (roll-tables, high amounts of danger, upgrades in the form of gear), as well as elements I typically associate with story games. The primary piece that feels story-like is rooted in the cargo your characters are ferrying across the River Styx: people.

Your passengers have personal problems that they’re wrestling with, and part of your journey must include visiting various islands, which contain memories that the passenger must work through if they are to overcome their personal fears. These passengers have a fear track, and risk becoming lost should they run into the wrong kind of hazard.

The fact that your boat has a distinguishing ability that gives it a unique advantage, as well as potential companions that can make your journey easier, makes this game both solo-friendly and suitable for a small campaign. If you liked the video game Spiritfarer, I think you might like Ferryfolk.

Courier, by Sleepy Sasquatch.

Courier is a solo-RPG where you take control of a Courier—someone who travels the Wasteland delivering and trading cargo in exchange for REP, the currency of this post-apocalyptic future. As you explore the world around you, locations and factions are revealed and recorded on your map. Choose to take jobs for factions and build reputation to access new benefits all while becoming better at your job and earning new character perks.

You will continue to take on quests delivering, recovering, or scouting the map for one of the many factions populating the Wasteland. Every choice you make as a Courier will reflect how these factions view you and open new opportunities and bonuses as your standing increases, or decreases through a fame and infamy system. Choices will have you siding with a few select factions by the end of your game and seeing the world change for it.

If you are a big fan of Death Stranding, I think you might like Courier. The game is all about exploring a wasteland and delivering items from one location to another. The game involves revealing hexes and tiles, so moving in a certain direction on the map can have really big consequences.A really large chunk of the game is focused on exploration, and that includes creating routes and shortcuts between locations: basically, improving your map to make future quests easier to complete. New locations give you both obstacles and opportunities, with both hazards and interesting scavenge that might be useful in keeping you alive.

The designer for Courier also has an updated version of this game called Courier - Repacked Edition, which they are very proud of - however I don’t own a copy of that game so I don’t know what exactly has been changed in the second version.

MythRider, by Natalie Jones.

When the great fires died and the distant reaches of civilisation were plunged into darkness, Riders were called upon to chart the dark. Explore the uncharted wilderness of a supernaturally huge forest, call forth legends into the world and bend magic through the wings of dragonflies.

Mythrider is a rules-light fantasy roleplaying game using the Wild Words engine to tell stories about knightly heroes and their giant insect steeds.

Like Wildsea, which uses the same system, MythRider has a whole type of scene dedicated to travel. Typical of a Wild Words game, you have a danger track that fills every time you run into trouble or move too fast, and a distance track to indicate how far you have to go before you reach your destination.

Games like this aren’t incredibly granular when it comes to any specific mechanic; many parts of the story can be abstracted out, including a montage that you can partake in whenever your crew has downtime at a settlement. This abstraction means that you can draw out the moments that mean the most to you, especially travel.

The setting for Mythrider is fantastical, with a really iconic set-piece of gigantic dragonflies and other insects that you can ride. I think these unique setting pieces make the game a compelling sell to any interested game group.

Wilding Road, by Resident Gorgon Games

Aldea was once a far flung colony of Earth. The people lived easy, carefree lives in a society fueled by clean, renewable energy and maintained by a benevolent AI known as the Overseer. Until the Collapse.

Something went horribly wrong with the gate in orbit, causing it to shatter and bring ruin to the world below. The lucky ones were able to escape and build a life on Aldea’s moon, Duru. Those left behind struggled to survive and what remained of the Overseer and Aldea’s infrastructure fought to return the planet to the garden it had once been.

Caravaners make a living by traveling between these pockets of society and civility. But, the road makes for a hard life. Even with beasts and bandits, the Overseer is constantly on the look out for those that would disturb its work of returning Aldea to what it deems as perfect. So, Rigs must walk the line of being able to travel but go unnoticed by the world around them, lest they be discovered and draw ire.

Wild Words games are typically great about travel: in this case, you also have the added difficulty of moving from point A to point B without getting noticed by something big and powerful.Your characters have a rig, which you use to cross the weird wilderness. You have a threat track, which is marked whenever the Rig runs into trouble, and eventually will likely introduce a hazard of some kind. You also have resources, in the form of both cargo that you are carrying and scrap you might discover, which can make the journey easier.

The designer for this game is doing a lot of work with this engine, making Realm, a fantasy game about exploring a world of spirits and wonder. If you like the ideas presented in Wildsea, you might want to check out these games!

Aquanautica, by Old Grog

Aquanautica is a subaquatic sci-fi setting inspired by the Aquazone Lego sets from the ‘90s. It takes place on Tethys-95, an oceanic, alien world filled with mystery and adventure. It was designed for use with tabletop roleplaying games but is system-agnostic and therefore doesn’t require any specific game system to play.

Aquanautica is a hex crawl setting that has a very colourful and useful map. This map has icons to represent different locations and environment types, as well as a colour reference to represent how deep you are at any given hex. The game comes with some dangers: running out of power or oxygen can bring your journey to a pretty definite end, and it will also make your navigation incredibly important: how far or deep can you go before you need to turn back?

The game has a lot of tools to help generate the setting and make it feel alive: there’s a roll table for encounters, some factions that will be trying to lay claim to parts of the setting, and a creature generator. There’s also a cave system generation process, which includes tunnels and additional dangers of getting lost and racing against the to find the exit.

This isn’t a game in itself - it’s an adventure setting for another game. I think a game like Mothership, Into the Odd, or perhaps a Tunnel Goons hack would be appropriate systems for Aquanautica.

Other Recommendation Posts To Check Out

My Isolation and Desperation post which had some funky recommendations for a person looking to craft a spooky road-trip.

My Pacific Drive Recommendation Post.

My Exploration recommendation post.

#travel #travel games #tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #game recommendations #dnd #asks

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prettyboykatsuki-moved · 2 years ago

Note

“Their bodies fitting together like they always were intended to become one.” - with my pookie…u already know him…pretty please…

✮ tags ; gn + afab!reader (use of word cunt), dry-humping (my dearly beloved), purple prose about astarions general neediness, smut is very light but there so 18+

✮ a/n ; sorry about this tumblr user nanamimizz. dont yell at me

The tightness in Astarion's chest takes permanent residency. Love is, decidedly, not for him.

He lets his eyes wash over your expression in the moonlight. Your own are blown wide, tinged with embarrassment about the state of affairs. Astarion would prefer to tease you about this. Make an off-handed comment about such a thing, the kind that leaves you pouting and huffing. You like when he does this, calls to your own bids for connection. Makes you feel desired. The kind of thing that gives him an edge over you.

But he can't, at least not tonight. His own expression would betray him instantly he knows, because it has been a long time since he's seen you. He's glad to have saved the world, glad to have been at risk of a parasitic infection. He met you during that.

But your likeness becoming the cities strength takes more of a toll on him than he cares to admits. Sometimes he won't see you for a tenday, and you can only return to each other briefly. In moments like those, it's difficult for Astarion to think clearly. He allows himself to wash away in your attention. To lay in it quietly, without taking.

He is strangely afraid of his desires. It's something that's easy to forget, somehow. Odd, since Astarion knows so clearly what he does not want. Wanting is a different affair. Desire is something so heavy he cannot shoulder it on his own, despite thinking he understood his so well.

Astarion cannot put any specifics to the intangible desires. He wants you somehow. In some way that makes his own body feel hot despite running so cold.

It's not lust. Just want. No more than want. A want to take.

A want so intense, he can't muster up the words to cause you fluster or strife. Even as a student of deception, the desire to be entangled with you is so great the words do not make it out.

Your hand reaches for his shoulder, squeezes thoroughly as you lay underneath him. The firelight warms you, casts a gold to your skin that makes his breath hitch.

"You're staring an awful lot," You say, a characteristic coquettish quality in your voice that Astarion only really likes on you "Is something the matter?"

"It's been a long while, my dear." He replies, raking his eyes over you. Eyes wide and... beautiful and perhaps easy "I wondered if you'd abandon me,"

"Please don't say such a terrible thing," You scoff, frowning "As if I could do something like that."

Right. As if you could.

"Is something on your mind?," You ask, noticing his distance "I'm more than happy to just lay with you."

"And leave you high and dry? Surely you don't think so little of me, darling?" He proclaims, dramatic and overstated. He masks his fondness, waits till your giggling with your eyes closed to smile "It's fine. Really."

You mumble something of him being sure. He tries not to let it bury him, instead opting to shift you until your legs are more open. Until he can press himself against your clothed sex, his own cock pressed. Hard and desperate against the warm, wet outline of your cunt. You squeak, nearly try to shuffle away.

But Astarion holds your hips, lets himself rut into you. He sinks into the desire, into his own want - sucking air between the sharp space between his teeth as you moan so desperately from the friction. That friction alone could bring you to orgasm makes his head feel light

. Over and over, until you're whining so beautifully. Like you need him.

Maybe Astarion can list one of his desires. He likes when you need him, at least half as much as he needs you.

"Like I told you so valiantly," His breath is shorter as he wraps your legs around his waist, lets his teeth brush against your neck "It's fine. I'm more interested in this."

You whine, your eyes fluttering open - mouth widened like you'll drool from so little. Terribly sensitive to the touch, Astarion can't help but push his hips up into you again. Desire to make you needy, make you feel pleasure that he knows he is able to provide. He can give you this much.

Your bodies fit together so perfectly. Limbs entangled and twined together between long, panting breaths. Like they were also so perfectly intended to lock with each other, become one in a way he damn near finds righteous.

You look up at him with a look so dazed he laughs in how sorry he feels. His hand grips around your waist, face buried into your shoulder.

"Don't fret, my love," He hums, soft "I can't wait much longer than this, either."

#astarion x reader #bg3 x reader #writing tag #im(prompt)u game

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rhey-007 · 2 years ago

Text

The Mystery of Love

Fernando Alonso family fluff

|| P6 of Fernando Alonso x goth mommy!reader

• | social media au

Summary: You and your family spend your first Christmas with new daddy.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, family fluff, female reader, Christmas

A/N: Enjoy another part of The Mystery of Love and another Christmas fic! 🥰🎄

If you'd like to be added to the tag list let me know! ☺

Masterlist

✧༺🎄༻✧

TWITTER

USER

HAVE YOU SEEN THIS AND THE PARTY PHOTOS???? THEY LOOK SO GOOD TOGETHER KZGSKDBHDHEHBDHXNF

•user1: when will they finally announce they're together????

→ •user2: hopefully soon or I'm gonna blow up

•user3: they are made for each other 😭🫠

•user4: I love how Nando's style has changed since he met Y/N, maybe you can't see it here cause he's wearing a plain suit ofc but overall if you look at the newest and older photos there is a BIG difference

→ •user5: right??? I've noticed it too!

→ •user6: he looks so hot 🥵

→ •user5: *they look so hot

•user7: the caption 😂

→ •user8: funny and true xD

INSTAGRAM

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, f1, astonmartinf1 and 12,567 others

tagged: fernandoalo_oficial, f1, astonmartinf1

•y/n._.l/n: relax time after the F1 Christmas party 🥰🎄

•aussiegrit: it was a pleasure to finally meet you! Fernando is so lucky! 😍

→ •y/n._.l/n: it was a great pleasure to meet you too Markie!!! 💞

•astonmartinf1: thank you for your appearance :)) you two rocked the carpet! 😎

→ •y/n._.l/n: aww thank you 🥰🤭

→ •fernandoalo_oficial: of course we did 💁‍♀️💅

•susie_wolff: you looked gorgeous! 🤩

→ •y/n._.l/n: you did too dear! 😘💞

•user9: mother and father have SLAYED, they deserve the relax

→ •user10: they always slay 👑

INSTAGRAM

liked by aussiegrit, susie_wolff and 34, 890 others

tagged: fernandoalo_oficial, kl.au_s

•y/n._.l/n: Santa Claus is here! 🥰

•aussiegrit: where his elf at? 🤨🧐

→ •fernandoalo_oficial: Klaus said it's embarrassing :((

→ •aussiegrit: then you could've called me! :0 >:(

→ •user11: imagine grumpy Klaus dressed as an elf xD

→ •user12: and Benny as a reindeer! 🦌

→ •user13: that would've looked so cute! :((

→ •user14: petition for •y/n._.l/n to put Benny in a reindeer costume!

•sebastianvettel: I hope our presents arrived! 🤓🎄🎉

→ •fernandoalo_oficial: of course they did! Benny loves his bee onesie! How did you liked ours?

→ •sebastianvettel: amazing as always! 😝😁💖

•user15: the pic we needed but don't deserve 😩

→ •user16: didn't thought Santa could be so hot 🥵

INSTAGRAM

liked by y/n._.l/n, kl.au_s and 563,234 others

tagged: y/n._.l/n, kl.au_s

•fernandoalo_oficial: two great guys and their beautiful mommy = my whole world 🥰😘💞

•user17: IS THIS THE OFICIAL ANNOUNCEMENT???

•user18: STOP WITH THE SOFT/HARD LAUNCHING AND ANNOUNCE IT ALREADY❗❗❗

•lance_stroll: Merry Christmas for the fam! 🥳🥰🎄

→ •y/n._.l/n: thank you honey! Merry Christmas for your too! 😘

•jensonbutton: Man! You are sooo lucky! 😎😝

→ •fernandoalo_oficial: of course I am! 💪

•user19: I want them to adopt me so much 😭😩

→ •logansargeant: me too 😢

→ •y/n._.l/n: you already are pookie 😇🥰

→ •logansargeant: 🤩😍💞

→ •user20: mother is mothering once again 💃💅

→ •user20.1: soon she's gonna adopt the whole grid xD

→ •user20: didn't she already tho? 🤔

INSTAGRAM

liked by astonmartinf1, fernandoalo_oficial, kl.au_s and 156,356 others

tagged: fernandoalo_oficial, kl.au_s

•y/n._.l/n: the 3 most important man in my life dressed so nicely 😍 (for once...)

•user21: AAAAA THAT NANDO PIC JSDGENHFRJHR

→ •user22: live laugh love nando pics take by Y/N 🥵💖

→ •user23: she defo takes best photos of him!

•maxverstappen: Fernando finally looking like the gentleman he is! (Only to Y/N and kids but still 😂)

→ •fernandoalo_oficial: thanks mate! (Not true)

→ •maxverstappen: no problem! (True true)

•susie_wolff: boys looking exceptionally good! 😍

→ •fernandoalo_oficial: of course we do 😚🤭

→ •y/n._.l/n: at least once a year 🙄 ekhem •kl.au_s ekhem

→ •kl.au_s: ey! It's not true >:(

INSTAGRAM

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, sebastianvettel and 237,956 others

tagged: kl.au_s, fernandoalo_oficial

•y/n._.l/n: Merry Christmas everybody! 🌟🎄🥟

•lilyzneimer: ahh! Beautiful photos! Mami is a professional photographer 😍

→ •y/n._.l/n: thanks baby! 💖

•lilymhe: it looks so cozy and warm... wish we could join you 😢

→ •y/n._.l/n: you're always welcome!

→ •user24: sooner or later all the drivers will come to Fernando's villa or Y/N's mansion and just start living there being a silly little family 😂

→ •user25: that would've been so cute omg 🥺💖

•fernandoalo_oficial: amazing time always spent in your company! 🥰🥵

→ •user26: 👁👄👁 Fernando... What. Is. That. Emoji...

→ •lance_stroll: sorry for grandpa, his finger slipped

→ •fernandoalo_oficial: ey! I told you not to call me grandpa! >:(

→ •lance_stroll: sorry pops 🤭💚

→ •user27: Lance calling Fernando grandpa will never not be funny 😂

INSTAGRAM

liked by kl.au_s, fernandoalo_oficial and 29i, 267 others

tagged: kl.au_s, fernandoalo_oficial

•y/n._.l/n: meine Jungs 🥰🤩 (my boys)

•user28: I love how Klaus is finally at peace with Fernando!

→ •user29: I wonder what happened 🤔

→ •user30: I bet Nando bought him something expensive lol

→ •user29: and I just think he grew up and realized Fernando is the best man for his mom 😇

•user31: AAAAAH LITTLE BENNY AND NANDO PLAYING HOCKEY NSBYXJWNFJR I can't 😭💞

→ •user32: we need an hour long video of them playing or just skating 😭🤚

•user33: love how Klaus fell asleep on Fernando

•user34: OMG FERNANDO AND BENNY HUGGING 🥲🥰😍

•kellypiquet: so cute! 🤩 Penelope would love to learn skating but Max can't either and I'm busy 😥

→ •y/n._.l/n: we can take them with us next time! It's not a problem! ☺

→ •user35: smdhuendbdjzy future content 🤩

→ •user36: I want to see Nando try learning Max how to ice skate and Verstappen constantly falling XD comedy gold 👌

✧༺🎄༻✧

Tag list: @morgan-getty @lichterfee @ashy-kit

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empressofthewind · 8 months ago

Note

Hey there, Meronia fan! Do you mind if I ask for Meronia fics recs? And, do you have any fav ships (from any fandom) that the dynamics remind you of Mello/Near?

You can't imagine, how excited I am to find your blog. Let's just say in my older anime/manga group who love Death Note mostly ship Lawlight & Matt/Mello, anti Meronia and are Near haters. So when I said I love Meronia, some blocked me and said I was the weird one. So, I never said it again. But now, after I got out from that group I feel better. Then finding your blog with amazing Mello and Near's metas, I'm so happy! Thanks for your blog...

Thank you very much!!! I'm so happy to hear this :-) in my experience most people on Tumblr are pretty normal about Meronia, and it's SO easy to block/filter users who aren't.

Unfortunately re: ships with similar dynamics, I can't think of any off the top of my head, but I'll put this post in the ship tag; I'm sure someone else will have an answer!! In terms of fic recs, I've actually set up my bookmarks page on AO3 to function like a rec list. I have 36 fics there each with a little blurb and I'm constantly updating it, so hopefully a decent amount that you haven't read! I'll pick 10 of them to link here for easy access (ordered by rating in case you can't/don't want to read the mature ones):

the roof by @lightningblade | 3692 words | Rated T

This is a college AU focused on the development of Mello and Near's relationship through a series of encounters on a rooftop. The writing is GORGEOUS, the progression is masterfully done, and it removes the element of the rivalry without removing the core of what makes Meronia such a great ship! There's also a companion piece up as of yesterday which I'm still recovering from (very very positive).

Dear Mello by @tzviaariella | 4158 words | Rated T

This fic is written during the canon timeline through a series of emails. It's an AU where Mello survives, originally written for the 2023 Meronia Zine but also posted on AO3 (which is what I've linked here). The format is really creative and I'm OBSESSED with the way Mello and Near's dynamic is written. The petty back-and-forth is very entertaining and in-character, and there's a certain familiarity and fondness underlying it that I adore. There are also a few artworks throughout which is a nice treat!!

How to Get Any Guy to Fall in Love with You by Sick_head_Sweet_heart | 7025 words | Rated T

This one has such a late-2000s fandom classic feel to it that I'm surprised it's only a few years old??? It's set at Wammy's House, in which Matt gives Near advice on how to make Mello fall in love with him. The dynamic is insanely cute and I'm obsessed with the way Matt and Near's friendship is characterised here. Them scheming together is something I need more of in fics!!

The Mihael Factor by spiritcrimson | 16 chapters | Rated T

One of the longest completed works I've ever read for Meronia and I have been DYING to find something like this ever since. It's a talent agent x singer AU, and it's literally everything I could have asked for in a longfic. A unique idea, compelling progression and a fun antagonistic dynamic that blossoms into a really sweet romance. It's a slowburn but it doesn't drag on at all, and the ending is SO well worth the wait.

3 + 1 by @squidish | 2423 words | Rated T

x + 1 fics are a favourite trope of mine, as is the general concept of Mello and Near behaving inappropriately in the workplace, and this one combines both of those perfectly. The premise is 3 times Mello and Near got walked in on by one of the SPK members, and 1 time they were caught by the whole group. The writing is SO delightful and there are several lines in this that are permanently lodged in my brain. I find humour in writing immensely difficult to pull off so I'm always in awe of authors who can integrate it naturally, and squidish's writing is a great example of that! (Worth noting that this one is slightly more mature than the other T-rated fics here, so I've put it closer to the M & E section; however the smut scenes are not explicit)

it's friday, i'm in love by @neallo | 2676 words | Rated M

You could read literally anything by neallo and it's guaranteed to be good, but to keep this list short, I've included one angsty fic and one lighthearted fic so you can pick the vibe. This one is more lighthearted, and it depicts a very tender moment in which Mello shows up at Near's door drunk and dances with him in the kitchen. This is a prequel to a bigger AU focusing on a casual relationship between them, but it also holds up as a standalone fic! It's unbearably sweet and there are many lines in there that made me audibly laugh.

Speculation on Demisexual Sex Drive by SayHiDestery | 4069 words | Rated M

The smut scene in this fic is so intimate and perfect, I'm melting just thinking about it. It's an established relationship fic in which Near has PTSD and has certain struggles with intimacy, and Mello guides him through it. It's quite slow-paced and takes its time to linger on the small details, which I absolutely adore, and the writing itself is vivid and beautiful. It also features demisexual Near!!

Winning the Game by clearmain | 4134 words | Rated E

This one is a PWP set mid-canon, immediately after the raid on the SPK. I'm a huge sucker for bold & bratty Near and that's EXACTLY what this fic serves. The way this introduces elements of rivalry and competition into their relationship is excellent and makes this fic feel faithful to their canon dynamic. It's a compelling push-pull with an open but hopeful ending that very succinctly captures the complexities of their relationship.

A Certain Hush by BlueberryAsh | 5434 words | Rated E

One of the first fanfics I read for Meronia and I'm not exaggerating when I say it changed my life. This fic has had SUCH a massive influence on the way I view and write the ship. It's a little glimpse into Mello and Near's relationship immediately after getting together. It's really cute and sweet in a way that feels authentic to the characters, and I'm incredibly impressed by the way it manages to give just enough backstory for their relationship to make sense without getting caught up in the details. Genuinely a masterpiece!

i want to hold you (hostage) by @neallo | 4 chapters | Rated E

The aforementioned angsty neallo fic! This one is an exes AU set during the canon timeline, and it is, as you can imagine, a very fraught dynamic done SO incredibly well. The tension is absolutely delicious and there are earnest moments littered throughout that are guaranteed to have you tearing up. Brilliant setup, brilliant writing, brilliant dynamic; just an absolutely stellar fic on all counts!!

#asks #fics #meronia #long post #rec list

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imgoingtofreakoutnow · 2 years ago

Text

hold me as the night goes by

Summary: Rolan finds you crying in the Ramazith's Tower and tries to comfort you

Pairing: Rolan x Tav

Words: 1.1k

Warnings: depiction of what might be a panic/anxiety attack, hurt/comfort, tiny bit of fluff

A/N: This is entirely self-indulgent, I just needed a hug from Rolan. Sorry for any possible grammatical mistakes ;P

Tagging: @tripleyeeet @elfinbloodbag @fictionobsession @adequate-superstar @sapphiccloud (if you don't want to be tagged, let me know <3)

\_/

As Rolan's wandering through the Ramazith’s Tower, in his slow but steady cataloguing of each and every book that fills the many shelves of the building, he hears a muffled sound coming from a nearby corner.

Cal and Lia both went out a while before to do a couple chores for Rolan – not imperative ones, a mere pretest to keep them away so that they wouldn’t bother him during the cataloguing. This excludes his two noisy siblings from the list of possible intruders. It can’t be a visitor either: he showed the last one out himself, and there isn't anyone foolish enough to roam the trapped halls by themselves.

Rolan silently closes the book he's checking and puts it back on the shelf, with the notebook where he’s annotating title, author and year of the various volumes. He moves towards the sound, an incantation rolling quietly on his tongue as he prepares himself to face a possible thief – and given the main contents of the tower, possibly a magic-user one.

When he finally cuts the corner, Rolan lets his hands fall to his side when he sees you, the light emanating from his palms disappearing as he places them on his hips.

"I'm glad you're enjoying the volumes," he sighs, not noticing the way you jump and moving closer to you, "but I'd rather you'd ask before taking them off the shelves. Some of these are very-"

His words die in his mouth when he notices you're not holding a book in your hands or anything that belongs to the tower. Just a creased handkerchief that you're gripping onto as if your life depended on it. Then his eyes move to your face.

For a moment, it's like he’s back in Lorroakan's study and the fists of his former master are hitting him again, cutting his breath in half and tearing his skin like sharp daggers. However, the longer he looks at your face, torn apart by streaks of tears and an unknown pain, the worse it feels. Invisible claws wrap tightly around his heart and dig deeply inside the beating muscle, like a knife through butter.

"What's wrong?"

"I-"

Your mouth flutters open but nothing else comes out. It only prompts more tears to run down your cheeks and for you to frantically wipe them away.

Rolan steps forward and raises his hand. He stops it before it moves to your cheek, instead placing it gently on your arm. Despite the misadventures you've shared together, you two still barely know each other. He has no right to touch you like that, it doesn’t matter if his desire might say differently.

"Did somebody hurt you?" he asks again, to which you shake your head, eyelids sewn together as you hold back a sob. "Then please, tell me how I can help."

You scoff, taking a useless breath as the sting in your eyes grows with the heaviness in your chest.

"I wish I knew," you utter in a pained chuckle, tears still hanging at the corner of your eyes. "But it hurts… and I don't even know why."

Your head falls as you cover your face, your palms pressing into your eyes to stop the tears and sadness that keeps building and building, as if it’s about to split you open.

Why can't you just be happy? You're alive, you're close to finding a cure for the tadpole, and yet why does everything hurt so much for seemingly no reason? Why can't you breathe? Why can’t you feel anything other than that despair that’s slowly eating you alive?

Why can't you just die already?

Your mind is completely lost, in the middle of a storm with no end in sight. All you want is for the world to stop spinning around you, for quietness.

Then you feel something. You focus on that, on the warmth that passes through your sleeves and the firm squeeze on your arm – the one thing keeping you from drifting away.

You lean into it – into him – and before you know it, your forehead hits Rolan's chest as your body is shaken by sobs.

Rolan stands frozen, unsure what to do as your hands claw to his robes. He's not used to physical touch; even with Cal and Lia, he still tenses when they pull him into a hug. This is no different.

But he can't ignore the pull he feels towards you, nor the tears that are still falling down your cheeks.

His arms wrap around you, tentatively pulling you in. You make no resistance, sinking into his touch as his hands rub along your back before finding its way to the nape of your neck.

As his fingers gently caress your skin and short hair, your muscles slowly relax. Pressed against his chest, your breathing steadies and your lungs start working once again. The sadness is still there, gripping onto you like lice – just as annoying to get rid off – but the tears are slowly running out as you feel Rolan resting his chin on your head.

You open your mouth to say something but no words come to your tongue. You simply lean into him even more, listening to his slow heartbeat until the blood in your veins starts pumping in unison to his own.

“Is this… helping?”

You nod against his chest, somehow getting even closer to him. “You can let me go now, if you want.”

Rolan pulls back and you already miss his warmth. The comforting sound of his beating heart, mirroring yours. He doesn’t move too far, stopping just a few inches away from you, but after the previous closeness it feels like you’re miles apart. His hand still rests on the back of your neck while his eyes stare into yours with grave seriousness. And a hint of fear.

“Do you want me to?”

His golden irises dart away for a moment as the whisper leaves his mouth. Taking in a trembling breath, you suddenly realise what that closeness means. To him, to you, to the frail relationship you’ve built during the past weeks. Perhaps it’s not smart to endanger the connection with one of your strongest allies, however you can’t ignore the peace you felt when he was holding you, just moments before. A peace that’s still running through you as his fingers caress softly your skin

You shake your head, your fingers digging in his tunic and moving closer to him once more. Rolan pulls you back into his hug, not one second of hesitation, and you both revel in the newfound closeness.

“I’ll be here whenever you need me,” he speaks softly, his lips pressing gently on your head. “You’ll never have to worry about that.”

Closing your eyes, a small smile pulls your mouth. It might still not be enough to feel completely better, but it's a start.

#rolan x tav #rolan x reader #rolan bg3 #bg3 rolan #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fic #annie writes

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chimera-dreams · 13 days ago

Text

This Tiny Thing Called Entropy

Chap 4

Task Force 141 x fem!reader

wc: 4.6k

Read full tag list on Ao3 here (registered users)

CW: mentions of human trafficking

Chap 1 | chap 2 | chap 3 | chap 4 | chap 5

Tepid sunlight kisses the exposed lines of your skin, rays of flavescent, watery honey shining against a capri backdrop. It collects in the wells of your silk chemise, highlights the crests of valleys created by the position you’d chosen: your knees side swept, your palm supporting your weight upon tendrils of spongy grass.

A breeze brushes over your cheeks and lifts the ends of your hair, teasing the end of your clothing, the material light and comfortable, flowy and pliant. The hem hikes up near to your hip, yet you never feel underdressed. The opaque fabric merely lays on your person, neither form-fitting nor oversized.

Made for you, conscientious fingers weaving every stitch, painstakingly sewing the lace figures of salvia and camellias; the loving grace rose petal pink, the sharp clash of rosary pea, all nestled in the downy snow of the cloth holding the vibrantly dyed thread together.

You laze about in a halcyon garden stuffed to the brim with a lush, never ending expanse of frondescence. Snapdragons, sweet blue lupine, delphinium, lilies, and so many more you haven’t had the chance to learn, though you appreciate their beauty and fragrance nonetheless. They decorate well-tended bushes and shrubs, lay against the flat faces of a gazebo that overlooks a pond, whose waterfall trickles clemently.

It’s a veritable Eden, a paradise specially crafted for you. Someplace where you can safely get some fresh air, enjoy a spattering of nature. You like watching the koi fish dance and twirl in the pond, or sleep on a particularly comfortable patch of grass by the gazebo, knowing the walls enclosing the space keep you protected. No harm can befall you here.

A couple of trees provide ample shade, were you feeling overburdened by the radiance of morning. Someone would have to drag you away from it, though. The thought of leaving the calidity of the sun makes you shiver preemptively.

So, you stay, content to sunbathe like a particularly smug cat.

There’s a swish of air, a vibration of movement, that rustles to your right. You pry your sleepy eyes open, entirely languid and congenial.

A woman huffs as she straightens out her legs in front of her, bare feet tipping inwards until her big toes steeple. Like you, she wears a slack chemise, though hers is embroidered with chrysanthemum and yellow amaryllis. It stretches along the length of her waist, curling from the curve of her hip to the base of her ribcage. You imagine yours looks quite similar; branching flora that reach for the stars, yearning to love as much as they are loved.

Her head drops to your shoulder and she releases a fulsome sigh, the noise bringing a sly smile to your lips that curls them at the corners.

“Tired?” You coo.

She huffs through her nose. “So many pictures.”

“I thought the shoot was taking a while.”

“No kidding,” she grunts. “They put me in so many poses, had me change a hundred times. I feel drained.”

You nudge her side. “Nothing a little sun can’t fix, hmm?”

Her lashes flutter and she side-eyes you. “You’re lucky, little sunflower. All you need is a splash of light and you’re raring to go. The rest of us have to take naps in our rooms to regain energy.”

Your eyes roll playfully. “That’s not true. I like naps, too, you know.”

“You’re the only one I know that naps out here. Doesn’t it get cold?”

You shake your head, hair bouncing. Deft fingers tuck them behind the shell of your ear. “Only if I come outside too late in the day.”

She makes a noise, longsuffering and weary. “You’re so lucky, getting mornings off. You get to sleep in, lounge in the garden. They totally dote on you. Such a spoiled flower, huh?”

“Mary,” you chastise. “That’s not true. It’s just because I’m the newest.”

Mary blows a wisp of her golden-blonde hair out of her face, then raises her brow at you. Syrupy eyes peer into yours, glimmering hues of acajou and chamoisee that you’ve always considered utterly enchanting. It’s not something you can wholly put into words, not a thing to describe, but a feeling.

Looking into them brings you a sense of peace, familiarity, and respite. It’s like a great, big hug, emollient and adoring.

To you, Mary was like an older sister, the person you trust the most, the one you know you can lean on for support. Someone to bicker and play with, your best friend. She’s the one that teaches you what you know, the one who lifts you up, guides you when you feel unsure, afraid to take a wrong step. Every day, she’s there for you, and you can’t possibly be more grateful.

You take care of each other – you, and the rest of the girls here.

Your heads shoot up when you hear your name called, and both of you look over your shoulders. Standing near the entrance of the garden is Natasha. A stern woman, albeit not unkind. Impatient at times, she likes things to be on schedule.

Which means, she isn’t the biggest fan of you, what with your tendency to sleep the day away. Something to be fixed, in her opinion, you’re sure.

“Come along,” she summons.

Mary helps you to your feet, aiding in brushing off any debris from the back of your chemise.

“Go on,” she encourages you. “Behave, yeah?”

You pout. “I always behave.”

“I’m sure Natasha would beg to differ.”

“That’s mean.”

Mary laughs aloud, rubbing between your shoulder blades. “Sorry, I’m sorry. Go quickly, she’s getting angry.”

Obediently, you skip away from Mary, catching up with Natasha, who began to walk away.

“What’s on the agenda?” You ask her. “More practicing?”

Her head shakes as she peers down at the tablet you swear has been surgically attached to her hand. “No, you’re getting a checkup today.”

“Oh,” you blink. Unexpected. Not your favorite thing, but it’s not the worst. “I thought my previous results were good?”

“They were…acceptable,” she offers tersely. “This is a long-term study, however. We must ensure your results are consistent over a prolonged period of time. Remember that, I don’t like repeating myself.”

“Okay,” you assent cheerily. “I will remember.”

“Good,” she praises. You think she does, anyway. It makes your chest puff up with pride.

The halls of the facility are sleek and white, shiny, clean. Scrubbed down and almost sterile, if not for the constant flow of personnel to and fro. They fill the area, always hard at work, making sure everything flows smoothly from day to day. You greet some as you pass, smiling and waving, unlike Natasha, who makes no indication of seeing anyone that moves around her. The way she subtly avoids contact tells you she is aware of them, at least.

She guides you down a familiar path, all the way to the east wing of the facility. You’ve been down here plenty of times before, the walk is always the same, never takes a minute more or less than each previous visit. You find that you like the stability, the reliability of the trek. It gives you time to prepare, knowing what comes next.

Natasha pushes a door open, blank and unmarked except for the number plate on the wall – 0475 – with the flat of her palm, her custom nails reflecting the bright overheads.

“In you go,” she instructs.

And, like the good subject you are, you go in.

⊰⸺⋗⩫⋖⸺⊱

The mission weighed on you, even now, hours after you’d left the scene.

John was behind the wheel again, driving your lot to their designated military base, taking you on as their guest. The only sound came from the vehicle’s kicking engine and the wheels as they turned over the road.

You sat between Kyle and Johnny, neither of them bickering for once. Everyone was too caught up in their own minds, processing what you’d witnessed. A debrief was on the horizon, on which the sun hung heavy and cold, but it was far from your awareness. Felt far. Impossibly so.

As if existing within a sedentary bubble, you replayed the events of the day on loop. Kyle putting in your earpiece, reclining on the bench with him, updating Jumping Spider’s program, dropping it, losing connection. You recalled breaking in, the nauseating odor, the gleam of metal bars. Bodies stacked on bodies, cages lined up like shelves, lockers. Purple hands, a shot kneecap, lifelessly dilated pupils, impercipient.

Blinding lights that flashed in the late morning hour, the lengthy process of victims being freed, tended to.

By the time you’d been nestled back into the van, retrieved your belongings from the group’s temporary safehouse, and began your trek to your destination, the sun had traveled at least four hours past high noon. You were worn and dreary, much left to do, to go over.

Jumping Spider resided in your palms, right laid atop your left. Deactivated, its objective complete. Your backpack leaned against your leg, perhaps too light for your upcoming indefinite stay at the military base. John told you that all you’d need would be provided for, from clothing to a personal cot, and personally guaranteed that access to unlimited electronic components would be available to you.

Your pride, and need to keep everything about yourself secret, prevented you from speaking of the anxiety that flickered in your chest. You considered requesting being allowed to return home, but you felt an obligation to see this through.

Plus, it was too late. You were already an hour and a half into the ride.

“Almost there,” John announced – for your sake exclusively, you were aware. The rest of the men already knew exactly where they were and how long it’d take to arrive. “Solid back there, Maven?”

Startling slightly, you stammered back. “Yeah. Solid.”

“Good,” he spoke for the sake of saying something. “Hang tight. We’ll debrief, then get you set up.”

“Sure,” you mumbled. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

He left it at that, a momentary break in the suffocating silence of your companions, a thinning of the air that was too thick to breathe.

You hardly paid any regard to the slowing of the van, to Price pulling out his identification badge to show the gate guard, to the gate rising and allowing passage. It all happened in the background for you, something you were distantly aware of. It only mattered when he pulled to a full stop and killed the engine.

Like waking bees, the men rose, shaking off their stiff wings as they milled about.

Ghost was the first one out, sliding free as soon as his captain hit the parking brake. Kyle went next, opening one of the double doors while Johnny got the other, both busy with prepping for the upcoming debrief. Then went John, who grunted like the old man he was, leaving you for last.

You slung your backpack over your shoulder and approached the open back of the van, where he stalled for your sake. He outstretched a hand, and you took it without hesitation, thanking him under your breath as you got out with his aid. His fingers squeezed yours comfortingly, then he released your hand, allowing it to drop back to your side.

“How’re you feeling, love?” He inquired.

“I’m alright,” you said, shifting your weight between your feet.

“You can sit out the debriefing, if you need.”

You waved your hand placatingly. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about it, Cap. I’m stronger than that.”

He smiled, visibly relieved. “I know you are. Thank you, your input and recollection of events will be invaluable.”

“Captain,” Soap called. “We’re ready for debrief.”

John nodded, and jerked his head in the direction of a nearby building. “Come on,” he told you, “I’ll show you the way.”

The base was surprisingly lively as you walked, soldiers and superiors marching across open terrain, grit and gravel crunching underfoot. In the distance, you spotted a range of recruits training, overseered by a woman with her arms crossed, hair cropped short, shouting orders at men who were about two push-ups away from passing out cold. There was one a few yards away who was doubled over, dry heaving.

Ruthless.

The building blasted you with frigid air as you stepped into it, adjusting to the change in lighting and environment. The buzz of a rattling heater echoed in your head, and you smacked your right temple with the heel of your palm until the incessant ringing in your ear ceased.

“Tinnitus?” Johnny voiced.

“Yeah, somethin’ like that,” you said, smiling placidly.

He nodded in understanding. “Ah get that. Gets real bad sometimes, ‘specially in winter, ye ken?”

“Winter?”

“Aye. Change in pressure or some shite, couldnae tell ye. Ah’m nae built fer the cold.”

You raised a brow. “Aren’t you from Scotland? It does snow over there, doesn’t it?”

He adamantly shook his head. “Naw, this is different. Ever been to America? Utah? Brr,” he shuddered exaggeratedly, “absolute cock-shrinkin’ weather, ah tell ye.”

You snorted. “That’s oddly specific.”

“Ah been, up in the mountains, durin’ an op. Never felt colder in me life, a nightmare. Ah couldnae feel my fingers for a week after defrostin’ ‘em.”

“You’ve jus’ got too li’l blubber on ya, Johnny,” Ghost groused. “Should be more like Gaz.”

Kyle tilted his head to the side. “Calling me fat, sir?”

“No,” the lieutenant huffed, lightly smacking Kyle upside the head. “Don’t go puttin’ words in my mouth, sergeant.”

Price chose to chip in. “He just means you’re surprisingly resilient to different temperatures, Garrick.”

“Really?” You prodded.

Johnny elbowed your side jocularly. “Man’s a beast on skis. Can ye believe he never touched a pair before that winter trip?”

“That so?” You sang, sidling up to Kyle, who gave you a sheepish grin.

“They’re overselling it,” he claimed, waving a hand loosely.

“Went righ’ o’er a ramp, flyin’ through the sky like a wee doo,” Johnny continued, unperturbed. “Should send ‘im to the Olympics, eh, Cap?”

Price grumbled as he stopped in front of a door, uninteresting and unassuming as the rest amidst a series of matching sets lining the hall, paint streaks visible on its aged surface. “Don’t go getting ideas, MacTavish. Not keen on giving up my best men anytime soon.”

He twisted the knob and pushed inwards, stepping through the entrance, a pathway to a different mindset. Palpable, it washed over you as each man stepped through. Johnny urged you ahead of him, acting gentlemanly, mouthing ‘ladies first,’ against the shell of your ear. Didn’t matter to him that you were second to last to enter the room.

Didn’t matter to the burst of shivers that raced to your limbs, either, apparently.

Inside was simple. A round table, five chairs tucked into it, a blank wall behind the head seat.

But, what caught your eye was the projector hanging from the ceiling.

Cased in a shiny, white material, it remained unused as of yet, sleek, almost new. You’d think so, if you hadn’t known any better. However, you recognized the object, its construction. The shine of its frontal lens, the thin slits on its underside that could extend into a tripod.

It pointed at the table, angled from its position near the back of the room, and you stopped dead in your tracks to openly gawk at it.

“You have old technology?” You asked, blinking, starry-eyed.

John looked at you, then followed your line of sight upwards. “Ah, the projector. It’s left over from before the tech collapse.”

“That’s incredible,” you breathed out, moving to stand directly below it. “It still works?”

He grunted, flicking a light switch to dim the room. “It does.”

Completely awed, you got the absolute pleasure of seeing it flicker to life. It stuttered, then cast a beam of light onto the center of the table, a spotlight of teal and magenta. With no image to project, it was blank, but that didn’t last long.

Your captain retrieved a laptop from some sort of hidden slot under the table, planting it on the wood. He powered it up, and his fingers tapped rapidly across the keyboard as he worked his magic. A bit shamefully, you had to admit that it surprised you the old man could operate any sort of tech that quickly. You always imagined him as the type to squint at a phone and hold it a mile away to try and parse what was on the screen.

The projector whirred, and a figure formed in a flare of mechanics. You recognized it instantly – a miniature version of the building you had infiltrated now resided in three dimensions, its edges fuzzy. Around it, each man took their spots on the chairs, and you automatically copied them with the remaining free position, absolutely mesmerized.

You hadn’t seen any properly old electronics in, fuck, ages. Most of it had been wiped out in the technological collapse some three or so decades ago. What remained was scraps, junkyards stuffed with water-damaged parts that were borderline useless, broken beyond repair. Anything that wasn’t either got confiscated, or repurposed into a harmless form.

To see one in a good state, operating optimally, was like finding gold amidst a desert of ash.

You startled minutely from John clearing his throat, your head snapping in his direction. His fingers splayed over the table as he leaned forward, that austere expression befitting only of a captain falling over him.

“Let’s go over what happened right before you entered the building,” he motioned towards you. “Maven, if you will?”

“Me?” You pointed at yourself. Upon getting no response, you awkwardly swallowed and straightened your spine. “Ah– uh, I released Jumping Spider as we – Gaz and I, I mean – passed the alley. It deployed successfully, and located its target. But, after attaching to him, it began having difficulties maintaining a stable connection with me. My phone.”

Christ, talking in a serious environment was fucking hard. You felt incredibly far out of place, a fish slapped in the middle of an opera stage and commanded to sing.

Yet, he bobbed his head like you hadn’t just made a fool of yourself in front of battle-hardened soldiers who’d done this all a hundred times over. Why the captain wanted you to speak instead of Gaz made your head swirl if you thought about it too much.

“Go on.”

You twisted your fingers together in your lap, pointedly staring only at Price, ignoring how you could feel every other pair of eyes burning into the skin of your face. “Um, right. So, I…”

A warm palm grasped your thigh, causing you to jolt and look to your left. Gaz rubbed his thumb along the outside of your knee, a reassuring gesture. Inexplicably, it worked, calming your jittering nerves.

“We infiltrated. I cracked a biolock, and we went in,” you said, your voice regaining steadiness. “It was…dark inside. Really dark. No lights on, barely any coming through the blocked windows. Also smelled horrible.”

Recalling the events felt like wading through hardening amber, the image clear, but the effort to reach it achingly difficult. You remembered how it went down, yet your fingers struggled to pierce through the viscous sap to bring it forth. Unwitting, but needed.

“We cleared the main room on the first floor, and were about to enter one of the closed rooms, when I spotted– spotted, uh…cages. With people in them.”

Writing masses, dry skin and drier throats, empty stomachs, emptied of nutrition, gulping down air for sustenance. Dull eyes, bodies pressed against the bars of their tiny prisons, heavily padlocked. A cold wrist beneath your fingers, flesh tacky with drying sweat, a missing pulse, taken by a fever. By suffering. Loneliness. A unique form of anguish that was both shared and isolated.

Gaz took over swiftly, sensing you’d reached your limit. Unlike you, he was firm and confident from the outset, familiar with the proceedings. “After clearing the room with the cages, Maven and I checked on the captives. All were alive, in poor condition, save for one, who had passed likely shortly before we arrived. Maven, then, pointed out a trapdoor that hid a subterranean tunnel leading far outside the building. Inside it, we encountered two traffickers carrying a girl. We engaged in a short firefight, with one suspect disarmed and the other incapacitated. I quickly secured them while Maven removed the girl’s restraints and checked on her condition. Three minutes later, Ghost arrived to aid us.”

You blinked, coming back to yourself, rerouted from the piles of helpless, hopeless victims. Despite being present, and listening to Ghost’s gravelly version of events, his perspective, you were somewhere else mentally, unmoored. You heard mentions of jamming devices, highly sensitive signal blockers. Burner phones, soundproof walls, various drugs designed to keep the human body alive on the bare minimum.

Adrenaline, anesthetics, antibiotics; needles and narcotics and neurotoxins, it all meshed and milled together into a muddled mess of cognizant awareness. Discussions of improved intel gathering, plans to interrogate the traffickers that were apprehended for more information, a determination to bust the ring, everyone knowing it was deeper than a one-off, shoddy location. A bigger system. A larger problem.

“Maven.”

You met John’s adamant gaze, the terse pinch between his brows a contrast to the softness of his powder blues. “Yes, sir?”

“Should you choose to stay with us, to see this through, you’ll have full access to any and all materials we have with regards to improving our equipment to aid in operations. Are you amenable to that?”

“Oh– uh, yes. Sir. That’s fine.”

“Good,” he confirmed. His nostrils flared as he breathed out, pushing off the table. “Dismissed. Boys, you have PT. Ghost, need you filling out paperwork. Maven, come with me.”

That’s it? That’s debrief? Done?

Bewildered, you stood up, copying the others. John rounded the table, approaching you with a mellowed hum. “Lost you for a bit there. You alright?”

You rubbed the back of your neck, keeping in step with him as you exited the room, barely noticing the chatter of the men left behind to go about their work. “Yeah…think I’m just tired. Today was a lot.”

He nodded in understanding. The halls around you split and converged and bent periodically, a maze of off-white paint and occasionally buzzing overheads, navigation an uneasy dance of left and right turns. It only ended when he opened a door and ushered you outside, where fresh air sank into your pores, cooling and relieving.

“I’ll take you to the barracks so you can get some rest,” he informed you, and did exactly that.

The walk was relatively short, a crossing from one building to the neighboring one, albeit a smaller one. Realization struck you the moment you stepped into its warmer interior. Where you believed you’d be taken to some public hut stuffed with other soldiers, you instead learned that Price really meant it when he said he wanted you to rest. These barracks were, quite obviously, private. 141-usage only.

The relief that came was insurmountable.

The first room you ambled into was one meant for recreation. Relaxation.

A worn, brown cloth couch occupied the center zone of the left half of the room, its fibers pushed down by years of bodies taking residence upon them, scraggly and well-loved. Across from it, a flat-screen was mounted to the wall, a low coffee table positioned between them, glass bracketed by deep wood. Homey. Cozy.

The other half bore a kitchen, simplistic, bearing all that was needed. Narrow fridge, counter, sink, stove, and (most importantly, of course) a shiny kettle, glistening silver and ready for use. A variety of unlit indicators lining the slim window told you that it had various settings, capable of maintaining the absolute perfect temperature for whatever drink you were to make, be it specialty tea or grossly watered-down instant coffee.

You got the sense that none of the men here gave a particular fuck about ‘optimal temperature’. You could practically hear John grouse that boiled water is boiled water, fuck does it matter if it’s two degrees hotter?

A hallway split the room at its center, rooms spaced evenly along either side. The one your guide stopped in front of resided near the back, second to last.

“This one will be yours,” he said as he turned the handle and walked in, motioning for you to join him with the quirk of two fingers. “I’ll give you a proper tour later. It’s not much, but you’ve got an en suite. My office is next to your room, Si– Ghost’s is across from mine. You need anything, door’s always open, alright?”

Si. You wondered if that was Ghost’s actual name, a fragment of it. Curious as you were, you knew when you rein in your nosiness. You’d find out in time, if it was wanted.

If you were wanted.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, the words scraping loose from the base of your sternum, sediment pooled over your diaphragm. “Seriously, John. I’m…grateful.”

He smiled at you, a twitchy thing, and scratched at the underside of his chin. “I try to do right by my men. That includes you, now. We take care of our own, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you let out.

He closed the distance between you, his forehead knocking lightly against yours in a pacifying motion. “Get some rest, love. I’ll come get you later when it’s time for supper.”

Your eyes fluttered shut and you breathed him in; lingering musk, waxy soap, the cigar smoke that had become part of him, the faintest touch of beard oil. Everything that was quintessentially him, condensed to a form that you’d recognize anywhere, things that decidedly belonged to him and him alone.

He pulled away, and the action brought you more lament than you’d ever willingly admit aloud.

Saying not a word more, he turned and left your room, closing the door behind him with a wispy click.

And then, you were alone.

You took the opportunity to examine your quarters. The space was small, but not overtly suffocating. Empty, utilitarian.

You couldn’t help but feel that the space was waiting to be filled by something.

Someone.

A twin bed had been pushed up against the far right corner, pristine sheets folded at the foot, a fluffed, down pillow atop them. You considered asking John for a blanket, but were unsure of military protocol when it came to linens. Maybe, Soap would help you smuggle something in. He seemed to be the type who’d eagerly do so.

A desk was positioned in the middle, under a window whose sheer curtains were partially closed. To the left, a dresser bearing six drawers. Next to that, a door leading to the en suite. The tiled room was dark, tight. Shower, sink, toilet, and nothing more. Designed for function and efficiency, not comfort, though having an en suite was already far more than you anticipated. For all intents and purposes, you could consider this luxury.

Still, the first thing that came to mind was…default.

Untouched. Unlived. Like it really was waiting to be used.

You sat down on the edge of the bed and peered out the window, your view being that of an empty courtyard. The less busy side of base, you figured. You hoped that meant there wouldn’t be too much noise as a whole.

You’d have to ask Soap for help to get blackout curtains, though. Or, at the very least, something opaque. You didn’t like to complain, or take things for granted. All you had, you were thankful for, but privacy was something you weren’t willing to scrounge on, especially given your condition.

“One step at a time,” you reminded yourself, and laid back on the mattress. You’d take it all one step at a time.

For now, a nap sounded delightful.

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