#THE PRICE OF LIKING TO BE ORGANIZED IS THAT I DO THIS STUPID SHIT WHEN I REALLY DON'T GOTTA

[rockybloo]

I'm working on retagging asks so when people click on a character's name, they see just my content of the character and not a dozen responses to an ask about them and...it's very wild to look at my Tumblr archive and see how drastic of a change the amount of asks I received after I created Glitter and Guilt is.

Like-before I made the story, I was lucky to get 3 asks in a month but afterwards there is a literal flood. Like rows upon rows upon rows of asks in just one month. Which is nice on the interaction and the "oh hey people are perceiving my characters" sense!

...but...

when it comes to me going through each month individually to retag stuff...

o h b o y

[scary-grace]

(secret) santa, baby - a shigaraki x f!reader fic

Shigaraki doesn't want to participate in the office's Secret Santa exchange, but when Toga promises to make it easy on him, he gives in. But making it easy for him makes it a lot harder for you -- you're the one who got his list. Office AU, no quirks. For the first day of 12 Days of Christmas event in the X Reader Lovers community, prompt: Wish List! Divider by @ wcnderlnds

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi part vii part viii part ix

part i (wish list)

Tomura stares down at the blank piece of paper. It’s not totally blank. It’s – sparkly, just like the green and red pen with a pompom on it that Toga stuck in his hand. There’s a pattern around the edges, also green and red, of leaves and berries, and right at the top of the page, in curly letters, it says WISH LIST. Tomura doesn’t have a clue. He doesn’t even want to do this. He’s only doing it because Toga’s making him.

She’s staring at him right now. “Go away,” Tomura says. “I’m not writing it with an audience.”

“See, but if I leave you alone, you won’t write it at all,” Toga says, smiling. “It’s a Secret Santa, Tomura-kun. It won’t be any fun if you don’t write a good list.”

“It’s not going to be fun anyway, because I don’t want to do it.” Tomura shoves the piece of stationary back towards Toga. “Find somebody else.”

“Nope! Remember last year? You didn’t do it, and then you were mad all twelve days because everybody got gifts but you,” Toga says. She pushes the paper back towards Tomura. “Come on. It’s easy. Just put things on your list – not too expensive – and somebody who gets your list will leave them for you! Doesn’t that sound fun?”

“No,” Tomura says. Toga scowls at him. “I have to go shopping for somebody, too.”

Coming up with a gift list is bad enough. Waiting around to see if he’ll get presents – or even one present – from whoever got stuck with him is worse. But Tomura watched all of last year, saw all the effort everybody else put into their presents. Special hiding places, special wrapping paper. Last year Dabi got into an arms race with his younger brother and started leaving actual riddles for the person he was giving gifts to. Tomura’s not going to do any of that shit. Whoever he gets is going to be disappointed.

“I’m not doing extra shopping,” he says to Toga. “I’m out.”

“I’m organizing this year,” Toga says. So? “What if I get you somebody with a really easy list? Somebody normal who’s not going to ask for anything weird and who’s not going to get mad if you don’t set up a scavenger hunt.”

Tomura thinks about his friends, then his coworkers. “There’s absolutely nobody like that who works here.”

“Yes there are. You just don’t know about them, because they don’t do anything to annoy you,” Toga says. Her smile starts looking a little sharp around the edges. “Write the list.”

The sooner Tomura writes it, the sooner this will stop happening. He picks up the pen, sets it against the piece of paper, and hits an instant snag. “I don’t want anything.”

“Yes, you do,” Toga says. Tomura thinks about it, then writes something. Toga grabs the pen out of his hand and crosses it out. “No. It has to be a gift. Something you wouldn’t buy for yourself. Something nice.”

“For under ¥4000?” If Tomura wants something, he usually just buys it. “This is stupid.”

 “If you don’t have specific things you want, just write down things you like,” Spinner suggests on his way past with a stack of copies. “Like say – video games, dogs, candy, energy drinks –”

“I’m not letting him put energy drinks on his Secret Santa wish list,” Toga says. Spinner shrugs and keeps walking. “That’s not a bad idea, Tomura-kun. Write the kind of things you like, and then your Secret Santa can find things like that for the right price.”

Fine. Tomura gets the pen back from Toga and writes: video games, dogs, candy – “More specific,” Toga instructs. Tomura scowls and adds parentheticals. “See, that’s perfect! Was that so hard?”

“Yes.” Tomura lets Toga have the list, then takes it back again a second later. “I need to add something.”

It’s only a sentence, and Toga reads it out loud, looking all kinds of skeptical. “I hate the cold, so I don’t want any let-it-snow shit. Wow, Tomura.”

“You said to be specific,” Tomura says. “Are we done?”

“Yes!” Toga folds Tomura’s list into a quick origami heart, then tucks it into her pocket. “This will be fun! You’ll see. You won’t regret it.”

She leaves without the stupid Christmas pen. Tomura tosses it after her and flops forward on his desk, regretting it already.

part 2 ->

[callofdudes]

ive been in the mood for some angst, some good ol' hurt/comfort or even hurt/no comfort. how would the 141 react to finding out their s/o has been kidnapped? their reactions to finding the ransom note, and how they would get their beloved back?

I wrote headcanons for this.... And then I wasn't happy with it, but I liked the headcanons enough to not want to get rid of them so I apologize if it's a mess. It's been a really emotional and draining couple days for me. But I wanted to get something out even if this was all I could produce.

Price 🥃

Don't mess with him. You mess with him or his family and he'll rock your shit. He is brutal and I know we all like to pretend he's the loving father figure he is 100% of the time but truth is this man is ruthless.

It doesn't matter who he has to kill to get you back he will. Whatever or whoever stands in his way between him and you is gonna get got.

This is pretty much true for all of the guys. But Price is that, I've been married for like 11 years don't fuck with my family.

When Price finds the note he's rightfully furious, he's scared, but overall he's furious that they would dare to put their hands on you. To take you away and then threaten him with your demise, of worse.

Giving Price exactly 48 hours to hand over the money whatever organization wanted it wasn't a smart option. In fact, none of this was smart. The note mentioned what would become of you if the instructions were not followed.

He tucked the note in his pocket and without hesitation he dialed the phone number that was on the paper. He remained calm, as he did with any enemy.

"If you think of hurting them, I will not hesitate to kill you." Said in a low voice. The kind that remains calm but you can tell he means every word coming out of his mouth.

"We won't have to hurt them if you give us what we want." The soldier on the other line sneered.

John was absolutely terrified inside. He knew how to handle this situation with civilians and his own teammates but this was you. You. What If they killed him or he didn't get there in time??

He didn't hesitate before doing a deep dive on the organization as far as the eye could see. The idiot stupid enough to leave his phone number got their 20 second call tracked and he didn't need to have the location before he was up and out.

He'd either bring a team or go alone but knowing Price he'd probably go alone. Brutal killing. Brutal killing.

I mean all the normal military stuff but with some extra aggression. Affectionate dad mode has turned into 'Slaughter everything that ever moved with extra violence husband mode.'

He searches every room and he doesn't stop until he knows their dead. He'd leave a few lost soldiers in favor of getting to you. While he would kill them all his main priority is finding you and making sure you're ok.

Lots of kisses and reassurance when he finds you alive and ok. If you're unharmed he probably untie you from your holding place and pull you in tightly, kissing you and hugging you, telling you he's here. He's here and it's ok. Nothing, nothing will ever hurt you. Not on his watch.

"I've got you love, I've got you." He kisses your forehead, then your lips. "I'm here darling, you're ok, you're safe."

You fall into his arms, crying and grabbing onto him tightly. "I thought they were going to killed me- John!"

Price holds you tightly, kissing the side of your head. "Oh love I'd never let that happen, I would never let that happen you hear me??" You still cry, grabbing onto him even as he picks you up, holding you in his arms as if he would protect you from the whole world. And he would. Nothing would ever hurt you.

If you are injured then all those dead men out there?? Oh yeah, he's going to shoot all of them again just for good measure. If you are hurt any leniency he had for soldiers still hiding around the place is gone. Will blow up the facility. To pieces. Fucking bye!

You whimpered, looking up at him, blood trickling down your forehead into your eye and matted in your hair. "John...." Price cut your bindings and pulled you into his arms.

"They hurt you... Which one of them hurt you!?"

You grabbed onto him, shaking and crying as he wraps his arms around you. "I'll kill them all. I'll kill them for what they've done. They won't lay another hand on you." He growls, holding you close.

He gets you home and doesn't leave your side, but you don't mind the cuddles and how he stays up later than usual that night keeping his eye on you that he falls asleep next to you on the couch.

If you come back injured he tends to your wounds, lays you down in bed and stays awake with your head on his chest, stroking his hand through your hair and over your scalp, feeling your warmth and comfort in knowing you came out ok.

"How are you feeling?"

"Still shaken up." You whisper, nuzzled up against his chest, laying under his chin. "You?"

"Just glad you're alive. So so glad you're alive." He hugs you tightly, kissing your head. "I love you." You snuggle up, tears rolling down your cheeks. "I know you'll always be to my rescue John."

"Always, I won't ever let someone hurt you like that. Never."

Gaz 🧢

Gaz can do ok with confrontation. Even though he doesn't like it, he usually lets his gun do all his talking for him. The barrel to their face and they usually shut up pretty quickly.

Gaz definitely leaves the intimidation up to his weapons. But when you're kidnapped and taken hostage? Fuck that. Fuck all of that. You are feeling the full force fury of one Kyle Garrick and you don't want that.

The fuck around and find out type.

A little better at regulating his emotions when he finds the note. When he reads it his face is full of rage if you look into his eyes. The scowl forming is palpable to his rage. Crumpling the note up in his hand before dropping it to the ground.

He doesn't hesitate to grab his gun, his hat and his car keys. Someone is gonna get their ass beat.

It's on the way that he gets a call from the people who have kidnapped you, giving him a verbal warning of the damage you would suffer in the next 48 hours if the deal wasn't closed.

"You have 48 hours to get me that money do you understand?? Or your love is bye-bye."

Kyle remains silent on the phone, glaring down the drive, his foot pressing into the pedal. "Every finger you put on their skin, I'll cut it off." He hisses before ending the call.

Their first mistake was giving Kyle their location to meet. Gaz is wicked with technology when he gets his hands on it.

When they tell him where to meet and drop the money he does a quick search, surveying the area and finding all possible exits, entry roads. Buildings, abandoned or not. All while still in the car.

When he finds an old abandoned warehouse with some built in security perimeters he figures it's his good first bet.

Again, his gun does the talking. And his gun has one nasty bite. By the time he's tromped through the enemy troops he's dripping I'm blood because once he shoots he just keeps trucking. Dropping the entrance and eventually when he finds some men in the room with you it's all fists.

He wants a good fight and they don't even get a chance before Kyle has them on the ground giving them the beating of their life.

If he finds you uninjured he'll rush to you and make sure you know you're safe, then untie you and hold you in his arms, kissing you until he runs out of air.

"I'm here baby, I'm here. Come here, come on, let's get you home." Kissing your temple as he picks you up and carries you out. "Shh, I'm here now, I'm so glad you're ok." He kneels in front of you, untying you and pulling you into his arms.

"Kyle-" you look back at the men, bloodied and dead. You cling onto Kyle with tears in your eyes, shaking in his arms. "They were going to kill me...."

"I'd never let that happen. And their damn fools if they think they would get away with this." He looks into your eyes. "I'm right here ok? You're ok."

If you are injured he'll gently pick you up in his arms and carry you back, treating your wounds and then holding you close to him.

"Shh," He pushes a strand of your hair back, settling you in his lap, his bloodied hand running through the blood that runs down your nose and your lip. "They can't lay another hand on you." He shakes a little, tear rolling down his cheek as he kisses your forehead, relieved to feel your warm body in his hands. "I love you so much. I love you so much." He whispers.

Arms wrapped under your, cupping your back to keep you close to him throughout the entire night. Reassured whatever state you're in, you're home. You're back home with him and nothing will ever hurt you.

You comb your fingers over his scalp, glad to be wrapped in his strong embrace. "I love you Kyle." You whisper. Kyle nods, pulling you as close as he possibly can. "I love you even more."

Ghost 💀

You'd think this would be easy, but it's actually not. Simon's reaction would be similar but could go one of two ways. He'd either be blood thirsty, angry. Carnage, teeth ripping, flesh tearing, head snapping psycho angry. Or he'd be worrying about your safety, pacing back and forth looking for any way, any how he could get you back. Both emotions are present in both cases but one would be more dominant.

So let's say he's both. He finds the note and he's furious. He's absolutely blood red visioned. But he knows if he does anything rash it could cost you your life.

Again, he'd either be the type to go on his own or call his team. But he'd only call his team if he seriously, seriously thought maybe he wouldn't be able to save you and not himself.

The note was easy, finding finger prints on the thing was like second nature to scan. Identifying those fingerprints with help from a friend, also pretty easy.

With his 48 hour slot to either complete the deal or sacrifice your life he set off to find you. Armed to the teeth. Quite literally.

And once he got to the base you know what happens. Ghost do what Ghost does. Carnage. Blood and limbs torn. His gun being his main weapons but like Gaz was not afraid to get his hands soaked in that moment.

He wanted to go rage on the whole base but his objective was you. Snuck in, took out anyone in his way and found you.

If you're uninjured he'll rush to you and make sure you're awake. He'll immediately cut your bindings and pull you up into his arms. He can embrace you and kiss you when you're safe. But rest assured now that you're in his arms he won't let you go. He gets the car far enough away and pulls you into his arms, kissing you until he can't breathe.

He pulls you from the corner of the room into his arms. "I'm here, I'm here love don't worry." He holds you close, hiding you in his embrace as he brings you back out of the base and to the car. When he gets to safely away you start to cry.

"Simon," you cling onto him, shaking and relieved.

"I got you baby, I've got you." He whispers, pulling up his mask and kissing you. Kissing you until he was sure you wouldn't disappear into thin air. "I'm right here, I'm going to get you home." He runs his thumb over your cheek, relieved your alive.

He's lost family members like this before, he'd never want to lose you to that. And he almost did. He almost lost the most important person in his life.

If you are injured fuck stealth. All those men?? He'll slaughter and bludgeon all of them so badly their families won't know who their burying. That's that happens when you mess with people he loves. He gave them a chance to possibly get out alive if they hadn't hurt you, but they had. And that was the wrong decision.

"Where are you injured??" Simon cups your cheek, looking down to see the blood dripping onto your shirt and soaking your collar. He was furious, but he pulled you into his arms and held you close. "It's ok, they won't lay one more fucking hand on you. I promise. I'll kill them for touching you, I promise I will baby not one will be left."

He brought you to the car and kissed your nose. Once he'd gotten you secure and ok, he cocked his gun and finished off the last of that base.

When he returned again you cried into his chest while he held you, kissing the top of your head. "I'm sorry love. it's over. It's over, I won't ever, ever let anyone hurt you like that again.

He brought you home and held you in his arms, refusing to let you go. He would never let anything hurt you. He promised. He would never let the evil of the world hurt people he loved again.

His grip was tight, running his hand up and down your back. He looked into your eyes, seeing your face for a long while before leaning his forehead against yours, tears finally swelling up in his eyes. "I'm so glad you're ok." He whispers, pulling you close again. He'd never let go.

Soap 🧼

John cries. When he comes home from his long leave, expecting a warm hug and a good meal. But when he comes back, the house quiet and empty. The lights off, the love of his life not there to greet him.

And when he finds the note that you've been dragged out of your home and taken hostage for money and information. He was scared, seeing the email at the bottom of the note.

You were one of the most important people in his life and he couldn't fathom the thought of losing you.

He's in tears and shaking when he sends a message to the email, waiting for an agonizing hour before he got an email back. A taunting message acting for the money with a photo of you, a knife to your throat. "Give us the money or your little lover gets it."

Now he was angry. He was sad and scared for you but he was also angry. He contacted Ghost and once he got information on the email and pinned where it was sent from he didn't hesitate.

He was strapped to boot with anything he would need. Hell he threw his favorite bazooka in the back and was off by sunset.

When he gets there he easily takes out the sentinels and gets inside, finding you tied up. He takes out the soldiers guarding you and rushes to your side, holding you gently. "Look at me love, I'm going to bring you home." He kisses your temple and hauls you into his arms.

"We're going home." He assures you again as he brings you outside into the cool air. He walks you out past the perimeter and flicks the button in his hand, the base going up into a flurry of smoke and fire. "No one will lay a hand on you, I promise."

If you aren't injured he's going to set up a bomb and blow the place sky high, sending flames into the night from the inside out.

If you are injured he's still blowing it up.

"Love, love can you hear me??" He tilts your head up, seeing the black eye and your bloody nose. He frowns, immediately undoing your bonds and cradling you in his arms. "I'm not going to let them hurt you anymore. Not one damn second more."

"Johnny.... It hurts." You whispered, clinging onto him for his warmth, his protection.

"I promise you love no one will ever lay a hand on you like this again. I swear to it never again."

He picks you up and brings you out of the base, once he's in the safety perimeter he blows the place sky high. Good riddance.

He won't let anyone hurt you. He loves you, and he vows to protect you with all the resources he has. He would never let you get hurt. He holds you close, maybe even gives you a nice welcome home to get your mind off what you went through.

"Are you really ok love??" He asked, watching you sip the hot chocolate he'd made you. You nod, cuddling closer to him in your PJs. "I know you'll always be there for me."

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, lips feathering a kiss to your temple. "Always love, I will always do what I can to keep you safe."

[prouddogboi]

Stray dog (Part 2)

To find the most recent chapters, please go to @doggoboigaugau 's masterlist

Sorry it took me quite long lmao TToTT School and work deadlines are killin' me.

Pairings: Ghost x Soap x Male Reader

Summary: Male Reader is traumatized and refuses to open up to 141. Soap found out something horrible going on with him and told Ghost about it.

Word count: 1910

Warnings: Smoking. Mention of attempts to self-h@rm.

The next morning you woke up with a throbbing headache. It was so bad that you felt like hundreds of needles were jabbed into your eye sockets and every time you blinked, those needles plunged into your brain, sending a sharp and chilling pain to the crown of your head. This was by no means a strange occurrence for you though, given the fact that every night the base celebrated a party you always indulged in this self-sabotaging habit. 

Still, no matter how bad the situation was, you still had training to attend to, tasks to get done, reports to compile, and a miserable life to live. You turned your head to look at the clock, silently praying that it wasn’t too late. 

It was 13:00 in the afternoon already. 

“Shit!” You threw an arm over your forehead. Nice, you missed the morning training session. It was your responsibility today to train the new recruits and now you messed up the whole Task Force’s schedule once again just because you could not handle your pathetic emotions properly. The thoughts of giving up flooded your mind yet again since it was no use in waking up anyway, it was too late to do anything useful. The other team members were already aware of how irresponsible you were as you continuously failed to be on time for training the newbies. And what about the newbies’ impression of you? Probably an unreliable man who was no longer fit to be a member of a special Task Force that was particularly famous for its efficiency. Or maybe you were never fit to be one to begin with. 

Why didn’t the others wake you up? You had worked here long enough to know how scary and irritated Ghost could get when people missed his training session. There were even times when he immediately had the unpunctual soldiers pack their things and get sent to another department because he couldn’t fuckin’ stand people disrespecting his schedule. 

“Maybe they forget about my existence. Maybe I wasn’t that big of a part of this Task Force.” You mumbled to yourself, trying to pull your tired body out of the heavy blanket. As much as you wanted to give up, the desire to be important to someone, something, or some organization, …just anything, urged you to wake up and keep trying. You wanted yourself to be seen.

Upon opening the door of your stuffy room, you instinctively covered your eyes as they were attacked by rays of blinding sunlight. Your room was too dark and gloomy, doors and windows tightly shut all day and night, no wonder you would react so unfavorably to the bright sunlight that is often associated with positive moods by most people. 

The base was unusually quiet. You didn’t meet a single soul on your way to the kitchen to fill your hungry stomach. No Soap cracking stupid jokes with his heavy Scottish accent and laughing loudly to them himself, no Gaz cursing at his jokes, no Roach laughing at the two dumb manchildren, no Price sighing and telling them to at least be less raucous. You tried to shrug the nasty nagging feelings off, but it soon became unbearable when you walked into the kitchen and saw all the dirty dishes in the sink. 

“They have finished their lunch.” And they had it without you. The people you considered to be your own family, much closer than the biological family that you had cut all contact with, didn’t wake you up from your drunken sleep, totally forgot your existence, and enjoyed a meal together like there wasn’t anything missing. You knew damn well that you were overexaggerating the seriousness of the situation, but you just couldn’t help it. 

‘What am I to them?’ That question kept spiraling inside your brain, worsening the headache that you were already having. In a brief second, all the nagging feelings were anthropomorphized into a disgusting creature with multiple heads and mouths by your ailed mind, shrilly screaming out your deepest thoughts that were fraught with insecurities. Your legs were rendered weak and you collapsed on the floor. Supporting your weakened body with all four limbs, you took heavy breaths, trying to calm yourself down.

A few minutes later, you managed to put yourself together enough to stand up and get out of the base, on the way you didn’t forget to grab a pack of cigarettes. You felt stupid to resort to nicotine as a way to fight against all those feelings, but you didn’t know a better way. There were times when things were so bad that you had no energy left to hide your conditions from your teammates, and Price was concerned. He used to have you talk to some therapists, and not surprisingly to you at all, they could not handle you for long. No one ever could. 

You were now standing in the parking lot with a cigarette in your mouth. You sighed, clearly satisfied with how strongly its bitter taste stimulated your taste buds. When you first arrived here as the newest member of Task Force 141, Soap and Gaz always joked that you’d become Price’s smoking buddy, but that did not happen. The image of you standing with Price awkwardly because you two couldn’t find a mutual topic for a conversation made you feel too uncomfortable to even try, so you kept avoiding the older man or pretending to not hear his offer until he just stopped inviting you. It was so obvious that the men wanted to get closer to you, they wanted to earn your trust, to make you feel at home and be yourself among them, yet you kept pushing them away. And now perhaps they had stopped trying all together. It was not their fault. It was yours. 

But why it was so painful? You were supposed to feel relieved that they had given up so that you didn’t have to blame yourself every time you turned their kind offer down and saw the sadness drawn on their faces. ‘Why do I keep feeling like shit no matter what I do?’

Feeling that the intense emotions that were barely suppressed by the nicotine started to get out of hand again, you cupped your head with both hands, the half-burning cigarette fell to the ground. Suddenly, your eyes caught the red burning tip of it, together with how the paper wrapping around the nicotine was slowly burnt to black. At that very moment, a dark but familiar thought popped up in your mind. You bowed down to pick up the cigarette, blankly staring at it resting between the two fingers of your right hand. Then, your eyes turned to your left hand, examining your spotty lower arm. It was full of the small round scars that were caused by burning your arms with the burning tip of a cigarette. You had noticed Ghost looked at these scars of yours many times; luckily he never asked about them. The army was a place filled with people who had different background stories and bore numerous scars, so it wouldn’t be abnormal for you to have some that were a bit funny-shaped.

‘Should I do this again?’ 

Maybe you should. It helped with the emotions. Well, temporarily, but that was good enough.

Just as you were about to press the burning tip into your lower left arm, someone threw their whole weight into you. You were hugged by two strong arms and the cigarette was again dropped to the ground.

“There you are! I’ve been finding you everywhere!” It was the Scot man. “Are you smoking? Gosh, I hate this smell! Price’s cigars are much better!”

‘The ones that smell good are never bitter enough.’ You thought to yourself.

“Have you had lunch, pretty boy?” Soap pinched your dumbfounded face.

“Not yet.”

“What? Unbelievable! Get to the kitchen with me right now, Sergeant.” The man literally manhandled you straight from the parking lot into the base, leaving you no time to object.

As you two arrived at your destination, Ghost was already sitting there, sipping some coffee. Soap forced you to sit down right next to him while he proceeded to walk to the fridge and pulled out a dish, putting it inside the microwave oven. 

“Here you are, babyboy~” He put the hot meal in front of you. You chose to ignore the pet name and his flirtatious voice simply because he had started doing it to you ever since you start working here. It was just one of his signature thing, you should not fall for it and mistake it as a sign of interest that could develop into romantic feelings. 

“Thanks, Soap.”

“Aw, don’t be so all worked up and formal, babyboy. Ya’ welcome~”

Silence fell over the three of you, until you just felt so awkward that you had to speak up, “So… how was this morning?”

“It was fine. Ghost stepped in your place and took care of the training.” Soap replied.

You carefully glanced at Ghost, just to find that the man already looked at you, which made you tremble slightly. The skull mask on his face made him too difficult to read, you couldn’t tell whether he was annoyed or he just gave up on expecting something greater from you. 

Soap laughed at your reactions, “It’s okay. You were drunk so Price agreed to let you sleep. Also, Ghost volunteered to help you with the training so he probably doesn’t hold a grudge. Am I right, Ghostie?”

The masked man didn’t answer; instead, he turned back to his cup of coffee.

You quickly finished your meal and left, saying that you should do training by yourself. The truth was you couldn’t stay there any longer, you didn’t want to disturb Ghost and Soap’s rare peaceful time together. You had already made too terrible an impression on Ghost, it’s best that you did not mess up again. As a result, you also missed their conversation. It was not intended for you to listen to anyway.

“You’re right. He did it.” Soap’s voice was solemn, with no sign of flirt or unseriousness like a few minutes before.

“You mean the scars?” Ghost looked up at him from the cup.

“Yeah, the round scar marks that you’ve told me many times.”

“It was just my guess. How do you know he really did it?”

“I found him in the parking lot. He was holding a burning cigarette and about to press it into his left arm.” 

A few minutes of silence passed until Ghost spoke up, “Fuckin’ hell.”

“I asked Price about his past, I know it’s a nosy thing to do, but I wanted to help. Unfortunately, Price knows nothing either. Y/n… the boy never opens up to us.”

The two men sat quietly, exchanging worried looks with each other. If only you could know how much they cared for you, maybe you would find it easier to accept their love and help. Yet, even if they told you, even if they desperately showed you so many times that they cared and loved you so much, would your brain allow your heart to welcome them just like how it used to welcome other people you had met earlier in your life, the ones who left you wounded and made you the way you were today? 

If someone asked you that question, you’d just offer them a weak smile and simply say: “No”. You're now too tired to hold on to any crumbles of hope left in your broken soul. You'd like to give up.

to be continued i guess :")

Taglist: @aphroditeslovr @prestigeghoul @edgyboi10000 @c0nny3917 @peter-the-pan @lovecats123451

[octuscle]

hi chronivac guys I wonder if it's possible to become the guy in your disclaimer with the cap and the evil grin or is he just a model for your service? I'm a broker and I really need a timeout like spring break for not being serious

Brother, you should know better than anyone that everything on this planet is a question of price. I will gladly organize a premium spring break for you as my stupid, constantly horny twin brother. I'll send the vouchers for the trip by email and the preset for the Chronivac directly to your app. The setting is such that you should activate it as soon as you're on your way to the airport.

The Uber is right on time in front of the apartment building on the Upper Eastside. As you load your Hermès laptop bag and Rimowa suitcase, the doorman asks you why you're not getting into your limousine but into this pathetic car. You don't react at all, sign out for the next week and get into the back of the car. It smells of sweat, cheap deodorant and tobacco. The driver is perhaps in his early 20s and tells you his whole life story without being asked. He studies business administration and earns a little extra money as an Uber driver. The rents in Manhattan are simply murderous. Instead of looking annoyed out of the window, you ask if you can have a cigarette. Only if you give him one too. Sure thing, bro. That's how it is among Uber drivers. You would do the same, otherwise you wouldn't be able to afford your apartment. The driver asks how many hours you drive to afford an apartment in the building. You laugh and say that your parents live there. When you arrive in Newark, you talk like college buddies. You say goodbye with a fist bump and ask if you're from New Jersey too. In the broadest accent imaginable, you reply that he can take his chances.

You take your army duffel bag and sports bag out of the trunk and look for your check-in desk. You look at your boarding pass. Damn, you're flying with Spirit Airlines? With a change in Atlanta? Who booked this shit? There are already dozens of people in the baggage drop-off queue who obviously want to go to Tampa too. Boomboxes are competing for the most annoying music, even if the sun isn't shining, everyone seems to be sticking to the sun's out, guns out rule. And caps are only worn backwards, of course. You turn your cap backwards. And stuff your down vest into your duffel bag. Sun's out, guns out is written on your mesh fabric tank top.

You almost missed your flight in Atlanta. You're already pretty drunk and one of the guys had his travel bong with him. In a two-hour layover, a bit of weed isn't bad. Thank God you're equipped with enough weed. The sale should finance your vacation. After all, your airbnb room right on the beach wasn't cheap.

You can only use the hour and a half flight to Tampa to sleep off your high. But as soon as you leave the airport building, you take part in a beer can drinking contest. Burp! Hehehe, you had plenty of practice last semester, you deserved to win.

By the time you get to your shared room, it's already 11:00 pm. The party is in full swing at the pool. You quickly take a picture of yourself and post it on Instgram. Caption: "Watch out stallions n mares, jersey stud is in town" Let the party begin!

[bengals-barnesbabe]

Mission Report: pending…

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Black!WidowReader

Description: Part 2 of You’re My Mission

Upon returning to DC, Red finds out the truth about her capture. She makes sure they never underestimate her again.

Warnings: Violence, Corruption, Nomad!Steve, Angst, Reader being a Bad Bitch (I said it)

Word Count: 2.9k

You're My Mission | Main Masterlist

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚.

The slam of the metal door wakes you out of your brief slumber. Opening your eyes, the brightness of the room has you wanting to put your head back down. Attempting to stretch the clang of the metal cuffs attached to your right arm causes you to groan in pain. Before you can complain to the man in the room a picture is thrown on the reinforced desk. 

“Good morning Red. Of course, you wouldn’t know that because you haven’t seen the sun in what a week?” A smug female voice belonging to a brunette announces. 

“At least I’m not chained to Fury’s hip like a bitch. When’s the last time he let you out without adult supervision?” A harsh smack flies across your face causing a satisfied grin to grow across your lips.

“Enough.” The pirate says pushing the image forward. “You stole a collection of highly classified files the last time you paid us a visit, now if you want more than the dog shit they’ve been feeding you. Tell me what the KGB needed them for.” He sat across from you spreading out the pictures from your OP along with the folders missing their precious files.

You look up at him, “Am I supposed to look at the patch or the twitching eye?” 

“Who did you sell the information to, Agent Reyes?”

You shrug at the mention of your past cover. “Reyes didn’t sell them to anyone, Red on the other hand. Well, she had a deal with the devil back then. Who else would want to know about SHIELD’s secret prison in the middle of the Pacific, especially the basement level filled with lots of fun toys.” 

Hill slaps down a picture of Barnes and Romanoff. “You should start talking or your precious soldier will pay the price.”

You scoff and spit on their files. “If you think I won’t let both of them die then you’re very mistaken. If you want information out of me, don’t give me baby offers. Between us, we both know the price you’d pay to keep your stupid organization from burning to the ground again.”

Fury leans back in his seat before standing and pulling his lap dog out of the room. “Send in the Captain.” 

Finally some fun.

Outside the room, Steve stands watching you through the one-way mirror. “That didn’t go well.”

The director scoffs, “She’s a black widow, they never do.” Then he struts off. 

“She knows what she’s doing, Nat told us they’re trained to always be the smartest in the room. She’s been working us for weeks, every time we go in we come out with less information. Get this our file on her- blank, even Nat’s had some of her past missions. Red’s a ghost and we’re running out of time.” Maria huffs.

Steve turns to her and nods. “How long?”

“72 hours, she probably knows how this entire compound works. She’s going to retaliate at any moment, this is fun to her. Good luck.” When the captain goes back to the window, she locks eyes with him and smiles, then as if she can see through the glass she blows him a kiss.

Steve shakes his head and enters the room. “Hi beefcake, haven’t seen you in a while. 4 days maybe.” She tilts her head, causing an unsettling feeling to creep up his spine.

“Something like that, let’s talk about something else today.” He joins her at the desk and places her file down on it.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” She gestures for him to sit.

He coughs to disrupt the chuckle in his throat, then opens the file. “Our files on you are empty. The only people who know more than intelligence are Natasha and Bucky. And everyone thinks you’re going to escape in less than 72 hours.”

You smirk. “So what are you going to do about it?”

“I’m going to give you your deal.” You can’t help but snort out a laugh.

“You are going to make a deal with me? What could you possibly have that I want? Heroes don't make much money in any job, what’s your offer, Steven?”

“I disabled all coms and video from the room, it’s just us Red.” The soldier leans over the table and takes hold of the chain holding your arm. Your eyes don't leave his as he finds the loose bolt and faulty cuff. He smirks letting go and sitting back in his seat. “72 hours huh.” You shrug.

“24 hours, get as far as you possibly can and never come back.” He whispers, raising your brows.

“No.” His nostrils flare at your response. “You want me gone for a reason, but not a good enough one. I want more.”

He sucked in his teeth. “I can get you a million and a safe house if you leave tonight.”

You smirk and take the pen from his jacket pocket. “You want me gone, this is what it takes. If you can’t fulfill, the world’s going to find out just how dirty their Captain is. I wonder what James’ll think.” You write down your final offer and shove it towards him. He stops it before it flies off the table and opens the folder.

He scoffs. “You’re joking.” You just sit back in the chair and tilt your head.

“Your move Cap.”

“It’ll take me a while to get all 10, Stark’s not just going to bat an eye at that much going missing. No one knows, not even Nat. No communication of any kind to him. I’ll come by tonight with everything, just sit tight.” He breathes standing from the desk.

You grin up at him. “If you need some help with the money, I’m sure James could help you. See you tonight Nomad.” You wink. “Oh and tell Natalia I wanna have a chat.”

 Leaving the room, Steve turns and Natasha stands there pissed with her arms crossed.

“I hope you know what you’re doing.” She warns.

Steve frowns, “Clearly I don’t. She won’t say anything, she just sits there and laughs every time I go in. No one’s gotten anything out of her, maybe you should go in.” He requests feining his disgruntled persona.

The widow shrugs, “Then you should go, this won’t be pretty.” She rolls up her sleeves and goes into the room. Steve nods but decides to watch from the outside.

When she walks in, you don’t look at her, instead deciding to twist off the last bolt of your chains silently. 

“Look at this, the Red Widow, I can’t say I’m shocked that we’re here again. I mean you always seem to be below me, first in the ranks and now you’re my prisoner.” She darkly chuckles before shutting the lights off.

 “This’ll be fun.”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Bucky is on his way back from a mission when it happens. 

He spent 3 days tracking down your old handler for information only to find out he put a hit on you years ago. He started making calls the minute he got to the safe house, every single one of your potential employers had cut their ties to you. It wasn’t recent either, when you were released from the Red Room you’d gone after anyone could find. They sent agents after you and got them back in bags. Everything SHIELD had been feeding him was a lie, it didn’t take much for him to find out the truth meaning they knew all along. They wanted you alone and he was on the other side of the world. 

Barnes quickly abandoned his mission after that, making haste to get back to the compound before it was too late. Too bad he could hear the blaring alarms from the jet. By the time he got to the containment center, it was just an empty room with red flashing lights. It wasn’t lost on him that no one else was in the vicinity, but before he could tear some agents a new one, a glare reflected on the mirror from inside the room.

Now he could tell the room wasn’t only red because of the lights. Fresh blood stains on the white walls and marble floor led to the flipped-over desk with the object that created the glares. He crouched down to the desk, a knife embedded in the metal and writing indented in its handle. 

“What’s it say?” 

Barnes pulls the knife out and faces his friend. “Where were you?”

The captain lets out a yawn that lacks lethargy and stretches his arms out. “I’ve been in bed for a few hours, last mission really tested my limits. You know how it is.”

James nods, unconvincingly. “You check the security feed? Fury said something about bringing you in before it cut out. What happened Steve?” 

The man shrugs his shoulders. “Buck, I haven’t been down here since that first interrogation. No one called me, I had no idea what was going on until the alarms started going off.” Bucky glazes over the writing on the knife once more before passing it over.

Steve furrowed his brows. “This isn’t Russian, she didn’t write this.”

Bucky shakes his head. “Survive. I gave it to her on our first mission. Romania 2005, it was a long-distance kill mission. There were no nerves in sight, just pure determination on her. I realized on that mountain she was different, she wasn’t doing it just because it was her job. It was her chance to prove to Dreykov that she was better in every way compared to Romanoff. I carved the word and tried to tell her that life wasn’t about that, but her mind was set on becoming his first hand.”

“She still took the knife, that’s gotta mean something. Look, there’s something else on the other side.” Steve flips it over. “Romanian I’m assuming.”

“Pentru iubitul meu cu inima rece.”

'for my cold-hearted lover'

“It’s not nice, is it?”

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

*bold was said in Russian*

“You did well.” The soldier glanced at the shivering girl before punching in the code to the safe house.

“I knew what I was doing. I didn’t need a babysitter.” As soon as the door was open, she shoved him aside and strode in. He shook his head falling in suit then turning on the lights and generators.

“I know, you said it clearly on the mountain. I was just backup in case your location was leaked, not supervision.” He began to strip his heavy gear off and noticed the girl on the other side of the room was still shivering. He picked up his jacket and walked over to her.

“Widow’s don’t feel pain, I don’t need your pity.” She shrugged him off and sat on the couch.

He exhaled enough to notice his breath in the air. “The heat won’t kick in for a while and I don’t pity you y/n.” He placed the heavy jacket around her shoulders.

“Iubit cu inima rece.” She huffs under her breath.

The soldier snorts and sits next to her. “You picked that up quickly, a bit harsh though.”

“It’s the truth, that’s who you are. Aren’t you soldat?” She turns to him and their eyes lock. His crystal blues spot nothing hostile in her remarks.

“My guess is as good as yours, dragă.” A soft grin peaks on her lips. 

“I know who you are.” His gaze drops to her lips, and when it lifts hers are on his lips as well.

“Who am I?” Their faces are so close she feels the words as they leave his pout.

“You’re my cold-hearted lover.” He smiles and claims her with his lips.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

“So?” The Captain drags his friend out of his dreamscape.

“I need to find her. Where’s Romanoff?” The soldier tucks the weapon away and marches out of the cell towards the elevator at the end of the hall.

“Bucky wait!” Rogers takes off after him and makes the elevator before it closes. “There’s something you need to know.”

Bucky scoffs because he already knows. He knows his best friend better than anyone in the world- all the worlds. At the end of their conversation in the cell, his resting heart rate was 35 bpm while at the beginning it was around 90 bpm. Athletes are known to have lower resting rates because of their agility, same goes for super soldiers. The average person has a resting heart rate of around 60 to 100, so for Steve’s to be that high when he was supposedly ‘fresh out of bed’ means he knows more than he’s letting off.

“Nat was the last one in the cell.” Bucky gestures for him to go on. “A couple of hours ago, she went in to talk, but she underestimated her. Y/n was armed and unchained. Nat barely made it out alive.” The doors open to the medical bay, they walk over to the first room and there sits a bloodied and battered Black Widow. At least he was honest about that.

“This where you were when she escaped? Cleaning your girlfriend’s wounds?”

“Buck, no one knew she’d be able to get out so easily. She could’ve left weeks ago if she wanted, but she stayed just to enact her revenge on Nat. She planned this, every part. She even hit Stark.” Barnes raised a brow.

“10 million dollars in shares and revenue was stolen from Stark Industries hours before her escape. He’s been trying to trace the hack, but nothing has come up. It just disappeared.”

So the plan was to speak to her quietly, move the money using Hydra tactics then conveniently make the containment center empty after Natasha’s attack. Not how he’d go about aiding her escape, points for creativity though.

“That true?” He asks as the wounded widow sees them.

She rolls her eyes but nods. “I went in to give her a taste of being home, but she was on me before I could do anything. I hate to say it, but her techniques were brutal. The last time I was injured this bad it was you.” She locks eyes with Bucky for a moment before he looks away. 

“She used everything you ever taught her. Her chains wrapped around my neck, knife to the side, she used anything she could get her hands on. The best thing was everything was nonlethal.” She ends with a light laugh that turns into a cough.

“Okay that’s enough, you need to get some rest.” Steve helps her to her feet and walks her to the threshold Bucky stood at. “Wait.”

She puts a hand on his metal arm, it’s the one part of her body still pale. “Before I blacked out she said, ‘Я выжил.’ I guessed that was meant for you.” Then the couple walked off.

I survived.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Driving up to the once very family-friendly home, made the rumbling from the bike cease to sound. Old memories of you and him playing house, being happy, pretending that love was real flooded your mind until you parked his bike. None of it was real, there’s a reason it’s called puppy love. He thought you could stay with him in his brickstone forever. Now he's lost you again. 

You enter the vacant home and quickly find the closet you hid your stash box in. Opening the box you’re relieved the soldier hadn’t found it himself. Passports, IDs, a money clip, burner phones, keys, and a matchbox. You dump everything into a carry-on and then find a change of clothing. It’s not that you don’t want the smell of the Black Widow’s blood on you, because it ignites every cell in your body. But the people at the airstrip would think otherwise, no matter how much you paid them. 

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you study the look, but it’s missing something. You open one of the drawers of the dresser and find what you’re looking for. 

Jackie Odom, the sexiest 60 in water wave wig. She was missed heavily.

You check the time before moving to the bathroom. 

01:24 AM 

He’ll be here any minute. You quickly release your neglected curls from their elastic prison, dunk them in water, and attempt the fastest braid down in your life. 

By the time you leave you've accomplished two things: saying goodbye to the old and hello to the new.

01:30 AM

From a hill deep in the woods, you can see the soldier and his tag team of heroes with flashing lights and loud sirens. The men in uniform go in as the men out of uniform stand in front of the house engulfed in flames. His bike front and center had already taken the most damage. A full tank of gas will do that for you. Your soldier looks to the woods almost like he can spot you from behind dark clouds and oak trees. You smirk and turn to walk away. 

ੈ✩‧₊˚

“Can I open my eyes now?” You whine as you feel the car stop.

“Nope, let me help you out first.” James’ voice hadn’t flinched from its giddy enthusiasm the entire 27-minute car ride. After a year on this assignment, you might miss that golden tone. Might.

“Perfect distance between the compound and the city, equipped with a state of the alarm system, motion sensors next to every potential exit, and a bunker that would make most agencies jealous.” He was like a kid in a candy store, giving you all the ammunition needed to take care of him.

“What do you think?” You smiled and let him continue with the house tour. 

You stayed for 6 days. You gave him 6 days of joy, love, and lust. When he went to bed that seventh night, you raided the bunker, wrote him a note and left.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

“Until next time, James.” Then you sped off into the distance.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

likes, comment and reblogs are welcomed and treasured ♡

[coveredinmetaldust]

The discourse around the OceanGate situation is making me really fucking mad. You are getting a lot of posts like this one where people are decrying how inhumane it is for people to meme on the situation instead of grieving for the kind of people would work you to death if it meant a 0.002% stock price increase.

Yup, these fucking losers are equating willfully creating a death trap and killing 5 other people instantly to a car accident.

I don’t even entirely disagree that yes, it is tragic. I’d rather they didn’t die from an implosion caused by their metal death-tube crumpling in on itself because the arrogant shithead CEO decided that all these safety standards other subs adhere to were getting in the way of innovation. Obviously it would have been preferable to find them drifting on the ocean surface a day later shaken but ultimately unharmed.

No, I’m mad about how blatantly lopsidedly this flavor of moral outrage is always applied. You never see these people on Reddit, Twitter, etc crawl out of the woodwork to denounce the people saying “well he was no angel” when a person of color is gunned down by the police. You never see these same multi-paragraph posts decrying how immoral it is to say “play stupid games win stupid prizes” when this shit happens to the poor, disenfranchised, etc.

You don’t see it, because the people currently on their high horse are the same people who would call you a fucking idiot if you were on this submarine.

If the entree fee was $250 and five working class people were killed I can guarantee you'd see these same people joking about Darwin awards instead of saying stuff like this.

But no no, suddenly now is the time to stop victim blaming and start grandstanding while clutching at pearls. Now is the time to get indignant and accuse people not of feeling empathy and being inhumane sociopaths. There are now were entire call-out topics on Reddit where they organized and briggaded anyone who dares to say anything bad about these poor billionaires. Where the FUCK was this outrage during, I dunno, pick any one of the numerous fucking examples of brutality and/or exploitation occurring within the last three years. Oh right, these dopey fucks were too busy wagging their fingers at the victims and telling them to take Personal Responsibility™. Too bad, if only they were born rich—then maybe these paragons of virtue on social media would go to bat for them.

But you know what the worst part of this discourse is? I can’t quite put it into words, but it’s so blatantly fucking obvious to me that all of this is insincere—this is actual virtue signaling. You can just tell by the tone, the regurgitated talking points, the slimy smug indignation. This is false empathy over people they couldn’t care less about and won’t even remember in a week, because the point isn’t to being a compassionate person.

No, this to grandstand and get that dopimine rush by calling people out. This is being done to score points for some political ideology and Own The Libs/Commies/Socialists/[insert any slightly left of center ideology]. This is so the Panglossian shitheels of social media can maintain the status quo and feel superior by stamping out any act of defiance or rebellion.

None of these of these people seemed to care about how disrespectful this kind of disaster tourism is for the victims of the Titanic. (Victims, who, were mostly lower class since the wealthy were the ones who were allowed to escape.) They don’t care that these rich assholes were profiteering off a tragedy and making a spectacle out of visiting a mass grave. No, they save that smug, condescending, and cynical response for the people who call out these rich assholes.

It makes me want to throw my computer into the ocean.

Now, if you are one of these people I’m screaming into the void about, and you genuinely do not understand why people are memeing the situation so hard, you need to take a step back and recognize that this is, objectively, an absurd and cartoonish situation. This could have easily been a plot for an episode of The Simpsons. This whole goddamn situation reads like something thrown together by a room of writers who were trying to out “yes and” one another until one stopped everyone and said: “Woah woah, hold on. The CEO’s wife is a descendant of the Titanic victims? Isn’t that just a little much?” And then everyone else ignored this person and just kept fucking going.

In short: it was the perfect storm of absurdity, coincidence, hubris, tragedy, and stupidity.

But that's just a surface level explanation which ignores the context of the last hundred or so years. Ask yourself: "why are so many people so unsympathetic towards these particular victims?" Well, there are a multitude of reasons that contributed to how we got to this point and this guy does a much better job of explaining it than I ever could:

[cece-writes-fanfic]

the good & the bad

you're having an anxiety attack, and matt helps you feel better.

(hurt/comfort, 1200 words)

warnings: mentions of prescription medication and descriptions of anxiety.

**i myself have anxiety, so i'm basing this off of some of my own experiences with anxiety attacks.

request guidelines

~~~~~~

The day starts off well. 

You’re about a year into your relationship with Matt, whom you’d met through a fundraiser dinner that had been held by your previous job as a paralegal at Davis & Cooper. Nelson, Murdock, & Page had been in attendance as well, and the second Karen introduced you to Matt, the two of you had been smitten. After a string of failed relationships, this felt like fate—this was the man you’d be with for a long, long time. 

Of course, finding out he was Daredevil had put a little damper on the relationship for a bit, but you’re doing better now. You didn’t blame Matt for hiding that side of him when you had secrets of your own.

Now, you’re working at Matt’s firm, taking over the paralegal position from Karen, and today had started off well. It’s a busy morning—you have a lot of those—but most of the time, the work feels good. It feels good to know that you’re helping people, no matter how small your role might be. Plus, it’s nice to know that you’re working with your boyfriend and friends. It’s a much better environment than Davis & Cooper, and you’re not even biased about that. 

But things are different today, because around two hours after the office had opened, you’d had to deal with a particularly stubborn man who hadn’t agreed with the methods set by the firm, and it had set something off inside of you. 

You’d been diagnosed with anxiety a couple of years ago, right around the time you’d started out at Davis & Cooper (funny timing, right?) and were on medication for it. But, as luck would have it, you’d run out the previous week and hadn’t had time to refill your prescription. 

Now, you guess, you’re paying the price for it. 

Your head spins when you get up from your desk, and you have to steady yourself against it with your hip, holding onto the file in your hands tightly so you don’t drop it. Your breath catches in your throat, pulse hammering in your head. It feels like there’s a vice around your ribs, squeezing your organs into paste. 

Shit, shit, shit. You take a deep breath, silently as you can, but it rattles in your lungs. And, well, nothing you do could ever be truly silent when you’re dating and working with Daredevil. 

“Are you okay?” Matt asks, as if knowing he’s on your mind. 

Your head jerks up, eyes landing on him. “What?”

“Your heart,” he says. “It’s beating quicker than usual, and your breathing is uneven. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you say, even though you know he’ll sense the lie and call you out for it later. “I’m fine. Promise.”

Matt’s glasses hide most of his emotions, but you can see the tightening of his face. Still, he doesn’t say anything, just nods and turns back to his work. The lie only makes your chest feel even more constricted, and you have to grip the file to steady your hands. 

You continue working, going about the next few hours with your anxiety still high in your throat. You’ve been living with it for long enough that you’re usually pretty good at hiding it, even when it’s bad. Medication has helped too—when you’re consistent with it, it’s almost nonexistent. Right now, none of the clients seem to notice anything. Karen and Foggy don’t either. Which is good, because the last thing you’d want is for your stupid anxiety to slow you all down. 

But, yeah, there’s Matt. Matt is bound to notice. He notices almost everything. 

“Sweetheart, I need to talk to you for a second.”

You catch Karen’s eye across the room, and she shrugs. You get up and walk unsteadily towards Matt’s office and find him sitting behind his desk, face eerily blank. 

“Shut the door,” he says quietly. 

Once you do, you take the seat across from him. “Is everything okay?”

“Are you?”

You freeze. It feels like there’s a bee crawling along your neck, buzzing incessantly. It doesn’t feel good. 

“Your heart has been beating almost twice as fast as it usually does,” Matt continues at the same volume. “Your breathing hasn’t evened out. You got lightheaded earlier. And, baby, you lied to me about it.” His voice breaks off a little at the end, and your heart cracks. “You’re in pain. I don’t—I don’t know what’s going on. Please, if you can—please tell me.”

You stay silent for a moment, mouth dry. Your chest aches. Your hands are trembling. Your head hurts. 

“What is it?” he asks gently, as if he can sense your nerves. “You can tell me anything. If you’re sick or hurt, I want to be able to help you.”

You clear your throat, and when you speak, it feels like the words are made of broken glass. “I think I’m going to have an anxiety attack, Matt.”

He straightens up, worry creasing his forehead. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“We’re so busy today,” you say as he gets up from his seat and rounds the desk to stand in front of you. He reaches up, cupping your cheek, fingers pressing to your pulse point. You lean into his touch, eyes sliding shut, and it’s then that you feel a tear slip down your cheek. “I just—I didn’t want to be an inconvenience.”

“You’re never an inconvenience, sweetheart,” he says softly, leaning down and kissing your forehead. “What do you need, baby? Do you need to go home?”

“No, I’ll be fine,” you say. You hesitate. “Can you just hold me for a few minutes?”

“Of course.”

He pulls you onto the couch squeezed against one wall of his office, and he wraps his arms around you, letting you lean into him. He smells like cinnamon-tinged aftershave and clean laundry, a combination that’s so distinctly him that it immediately soothes every nerve in your body. His arms, strong from being Daredevil for so many years, are better than any weighted blanket, and before long, you feel yourself turning to putty against him. 

Matt presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “Heart’s slowing down.”

You hum. Your chest doesn’t feel as tight anymore. It makes it easier to talk. “I got diagnosed a few years ago. Usually it’s not that bad, but today…”

“What happened?” he asks. 

“I haven’t been able to refill my medication,” you confess. “Haven’t had time.”

“We’re going to lunch right now,” he says. 

You pull away, alarmed. “We’re not on lunch for another couple hours.”

“I’m taking you to the pharmacy, and while we’re waiting for your prescription to get filled, I’m going to buy burgers for both of us,” Matt says. “If you want, of course.”

There’s a tightness in your chest again, but not because of anxiety. It’s because you just—you love this man so much. It hurts, but it’s a good pain. The best kind, because it means you’re alive, and you have him. 

“I love you,” you say, leaning in and kissing him. He smiles against your lips. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

~~

And, well. They’re the best damn burgers you’ve ever had in your entire life.

[wordsmithwhumpsandfluff]

could you do sick Spirit + appendicitis + caretakers of your choosing? i’d love to see how

spirit’s appendicitis story plays out!

“I’m not letting you use my employee discount. You can get the Bastille CD for full price, take it or leave it.”

Isaac pouted. “Pleeeeeaaaaassssseeeeeeee?” He made fake puppy eyes, jutting out his bottom lip like a toddler, and Spirit resisted the urge to slap that stupid look off of his face. She was already in a bad mood—she had to move into Birdie’s guest room since the dorms were closed because of summer break, she got in another argument with her mom over the phone, and for days she’s been having awful stomach cramps despite not being on her period—and Isaac was the annoying cherry on top.

“No.”

“Pretty please?”

“No.”

“I’ll buy you tacos.”

Spirit froze, looking at Isaac with a raised brow. “You do realize that if you got me tacos, you’d be spending more money than if you just paid full price for the stupid CD, right?”

Isaac’s face fell as that realization dawned on him. Spirit shook her head, going back to organizing vinyl like she’d been doing. “One of life’s greatest mysteries is how in the everloving fuck your dumbass got into college.”

Isaac snorted at that, giving Spirit a playful shove. “Y’know ya love me,” he grinned before turning and walking away. “I’mma try and find some new headphones. Mine broke.”

Spirit flashed him a middle finger, and he flashed her a peace sign right back. When he was gone, Spirit found herself singing ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’ under her breath as she continued organizing. The singing helped take her mind off of her stomach.

She only got halfway through singing the song when abruptly—

“Hey!”

Spirit let out a yelp, jumping so bad that she nearly fell onto the cart of brand-new records, and she would’ve if Aiden hadn’t steadied her with one hand while laughing. In his other hand, he was holding something.

“I sewar to GOD, I’m putting a fucking bell on you!! I don’t know why the hell I haven’t done that yet,” she spat at him, catching her breath since her heart was racing slightly from the scare. The surprise also didn’t do any good for the non-period cramps still gnawing at her.

Aiden was still chuckling and smiling at her. Spirit noticed two things: he looked very good in the fitted workout shirt he was wearing, and the thing he was holding was a bag with a Dunkin’ Doughnuts logo. “Surprise?” he said.

Spirit rolled her eyes, smiling. “I’ll only forgive you for scaring me if you say that those doughnuts are mine.”

Aiden smirked. “Indeed they are, my lady,” he said in a fake British accent, holding the bag out to her.

Still smiling, Spirit took the bag gratefully. “Thanks. I’ll have them on my lunch break.”

“I have the day to waste,” Aiden said. “I can wait around if you wanna have someone to talk to while you work.”

Spirit chuckled, rolling her eyes. “Oh, my boss will loooooove that,” she said sarcastically.

Blushing, Aiden’s smile turned sheepish. “Okay then. Well, maybe we can—”

“Hey Spirit, this box doesn’t have a price on it. How much. . . ?”

Spirit froze, her whole body tensing up, her eyes going wide as she looked from Aiden to Isaac and back at Aiden.

“Oh, fuck,” Spirit groaned, face-palming herself.

Great fucking timing.

Isaac and Aiden both seemed confused. Then, Isaac’s face lit up with excitement and mischievousness. “Holy shit. Spirit, is this—?”

Spirit shot him a glare, her cheeks red with embarrassment. That only affirmed Isaac’s unspoken assumption, and he all but threw his head back laughing as he came over and hooked an arm around Spirit’s neck, making her grumble a stream of curses under her breath.

“You must be Aiden,” Isaac said, still ginning. “I’m Isaac. Spirit’s brother.”

Spirit shot him a glare. “You’re not my brother!”

He narrowed his eyes and smirked back. “I basically am.”

Spirit shoved him off with a frustrated huff, making him laugh. She sighed, looking at Aiden who seemed both amused and very confused.

“Isaac is my friend,” Spirit cleared up, shooting the blonde a murderous look. “My very annoying friend who I’ve known since we were kids. Not my brother.”

Aiden nodded, still looking amused as he held a hand out to Isaac. “Nice to meet you. I haven’t gotten to meet any of Spirit’s friends yet.”

Isaac shook his hand. “Well, it’s great to finally put a face to the name.”

“Actually, I think I saw you—”

“When I picked Spirit up from the police station?”

Spirit groaned, dropping her face in her hands. This whole situation could not get worse.

With a heavy sigh, Spirit looked at Isaac. “The headphones are twelve dollars. Get the headphones, get your CD, you can’t use my discount, and get your ass out of here. You’ve bugged me enough today.”

Isaac rolled his eyes, still smiling. “Fine fine, I’m going.” He looked at Aiden. “Great to meet you, man. We should maybe hang out someti- aH, okay okay!” he exclaimed as Spirit shoved him in the direction of the checkout area. “Okay, I get it! Bye!”

Once Isaac was gone, Spirit let out a sigh, massaging her temples. She knew she wouldn’t be able to keep her friends from meeting Aiden forever, but she was not expecting that moment to come now.

“So, you talk to your friends about me?”

Spirit met Aiden’s eyes, a deep blush coloring her cheeks. Only Isaac, was the truthful answer. But even then, she always tried her best to not talk about him to Isaac. But she didn’t want Aiden to think she was embarrassed of him! Would he think that? Maybe she could just explain that she wasn’t ready yet, and then—

Aiden chuckled, smiling at her. “You look like you’re doing a ton of mental gymnastics right now. Is he the only one of your friends who knows about me?”

Spirit felt her face become hotter, if possible. She nodded, guilt sitting in her stomach a bit.

Reading her like a book, Aiden said, “I’ve been too much of a coward to tell anyone about us yet, either. Just Mikey and my dad know.”

That reassurance made Spirit loosen up a bit. But suddenly, she winced as a violent cramp hit her out of nowhere, making her frown. It was the worst cramp yet.

Aiden’s smile faltered slightly. “You okay?”

Spirit hesitated. Then she nodded slowly. “Yeah. . . Yeah, I’m fine. It was just a cramp. I’ve been getting them for the last few days.”

Aiden’s smile dropped a little more, and he lowered his voice respectfully to ask, “Are you on your period? Do you have meds on you?”

The fact that Aiden was the kind of guy who didn’t make jokes or gross comments about periods just made Spirit adore him more. Smiling a bit to reassure him, she whispered back, “Not on my period yet, just cramps. And I have meds in the staff room.”

Aiden nodded. “Are you nauseous at all?”

She shook her head, but that was a lie. The nausea was on and off, appearing for a minute when a cramp hit, and then vanishing again. Not unusual for Spirit when she was close to getting her period.

“Mitchel! Did you finish putting those vinyl away?” a girl’s voice suddenly yelled, making Spirit jump. “We need help in the back if you’re done!”

“Shit,” she cursed, looking apologetically at Aiden. “I’m sorry, I’ve gotta keep working, but—”

“I can hang out around the mall for a few hours, and then I have a little surprise for when you get off work.”

Spirit’s eyebrows raised. “Another surprise?”

He smiled, giving Spirit a hug and leaving without saying another word. Spirit couldn’t stop smiling as she watched him go.

“Mitchel!”

“Give me a freaking minute, Sarah!”

— — —

“Oooh, are those doughnuts?”

Harold was the third one of Spirit’s co-workers to ask that question. She had been on her lunch break for ten minutes now. . . and she had only been staring at the bag of doughnuts from Aiden.

They were her favorite kind—Boston Cream—but something was off in her gut, and she had the feeling that just the smell of one of those doughnuts would make her barf.

But still. . .

“Yes, and they’re mine. Eat the lunch your mom packed for you, kid.”

Harold pouted. He was the youngest person working at the store. He was a freckly red-head with braces, very pale-blue eyes, and he always brought a weird soy lunch made for him by his mom every day.

“Can I please just have one?” he begged. “My mom bought tofu in bulk, and I’m getting sick of it! I need something unhealthy, please!”

Spirit almost laughed at the 9th grader. “Fine, kiddo. Take one, and don’t tell anyone else. Eat it quick.” The staff room was empty besides them.

It made Spirit’s stomach churn just to think about eating right now. Not to mention, the cramps had become a lingering sharp pain sitting in her lower belly that was just uncomfortable and a little bit painful. Moving made it worse, so she’d been sitting in the same position on the same chair since her beak started.

Harold practically ate half of the doughnut in one bite, getting cream all over the corners of his mouth. Spirit stared at the floor so she didn’t have to see him eat. She was feeling sick enough as it was.

“When did you get these? Before you came in today?”

“No, my bo—” she caught herself, clearing her throat. “My friend brought them for me. I forgot to bring my own lunch again.”

“Aren’t you gonna eat, then?”

I want to, she thought to herself.

Spirit shook her head. “Nah, I’m not feeling too good. My gut’s off.”

“Oh. That’s too bad.” She heard him take another bite, and then no more. She looked up, and the doughnut was gone. The kid literally ate it in two bites.

“How were your first High School finals? Excited to be a sophomore next year?”

Harold smiled and nodded. “Yeah. I’m in the Cambridge Program, y’know. It’s cool.”

Spirit cringed. “News flash, kiddo; the Cambridge Program class for sophomores sucks.”

“AICE Thinking Skills?”

“Yup.”

“What’s it like?”

Spirit was about to answer when a sharp cramp hit her, knocking the wind out of her for a second.

“Spirit?”

Spirit looked at Harold, who noticed her falter. “I-I’m fine. . . A cramp just—“ She shifted just a little, and she gasped and doubled over as a burst of pain in her stomach hit her like a brick. She breathed through her mouth for a second before puke exploded from her lips, leaving her coughing, nausea suddenly eating away at her.

“Oh my God!” Harold exclaimed. “Holy shit, what’s wrong?!”

Spirit wanted to tell him to chill. But she could barely think with the pain she was now experiencing. Her lower belly was burning!!! As if someone randomly stuck a hot knife inside of her!

She gasped as it felt like that knife was twisting. “Ah, ow,” she whimpered, “Oh God, it burns.” Her voice was strained and two octaves higher than normal. She vomited again.

Sweat dripped down her neck. Everything started to blur and fade together. She blinked a few times, and after seconds or hours, there was a flurry of footsteps and concerned voices and hands touching her. . .

She felt. . . cold? No, hot. Wait, no, definitely cold! Fuck, she couldn’t tell.

She felt herself tipping, and bony ring-adorned hands held her shoulders to keep her upright. She heard her boss’s voice, but he didn’t sound grumpy and tired like he usually did. He sounded worried. Maybe a bit panicked?

Spirit felt herself fading, black spots appearing before her eyes. She realized that part of the reason everything was so blurry was because she was crying, and the pain was so intense that she didn’t even have to question why.

She heaved abruptly as her stomach clenched, and more hands kept her from pitching forward. Her head was spinning. Puke dribbled from her lips. And she was sobbing with the agonizing pain!

“It’hurrrrrrrtsss,” she whined, her voice scratchy. “I’mmmmdying. Makeit’ssssstop.” She could barely think.

Suddenly, the black spots started to come together. The world kept coming in and out, and she couldn’t stop crying in agony. The pain didn’t let up—it was only getting worse!

She heard new voices after what felt like forever. She didn’t put together a single thing that they said, but she cried out in pain as she felt herself get lifted and laid down onto something. Every little movement was painful.

Rubbery-feeling fingers pushed up her shirt and started touching her around her stomach. As the fingers pressed down on the spot where the pain was the worst, she curled up with a pathetic whimper that she normally would have cringed at herself for making. But it hurt, and she couldn’t help it!

But the worst came when the fingers lifted. The pain at that moment was so intense that Spirit literally screamed in agony.

Am I dying?! she wondered, sobbing harder than she ever had before. She felt like she was moving, but she was still laying down, wasn’t she?

What’s wrong with me? was the thought that kept playing in her mind over and over, loud enough that aside from the pain, those words were the only thing she could focus on.

— — —

(Earlier)

Aiden saw Isaac heading out of the store as he was leaving, too. “Hey!” he said, catching up with him.

The blonde guy turned and looked at him with a smile. “Hi,” he said. “Spirit got sick of you, too?”

Aiden shrugged, chuckling. “How long have you two been friends?” he asked, falling into a step beside Isaac. “A long time, right? I could tell.”

“Yeah,” Isaac answered as he continued walking. “We’ve known each other since elementary school.” Isaac paused, looking at Aiden. “How long have you two been going out?”

“A few months now,” Aiden said. “And I’m planning on officially asking her to be my girlfriend today.”

Isaac’s brows shot up. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Aiden had a look of both excitement and nervousness on his face. “I’m gonna take her out to dinner to ask her.”

“Mexican food?”

Aiden slightly raised a brow. “Would that be the smartest choice?”

“Definitely,” Isaac told him. “She loves spicy food. And Mexican restaurants are her favorite. The Mexican place near Braden Park sucks, but a really good one she likes is the one downtown with the loud music.”

Aiden smiled gratefully at the advice. “Thanks.”

Isaac and Aiden found themselves hanging out and talking for a while. They actually had some common interests, including videogame streamers, some books, movies, certain fandom lores. . .

“Do you get what I’m saying? The FNAF movie wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good either. But I still—”

“Would totally see the second part if one came out?” Aiden finished.

“Yes, exactly!” Isaac exclaimed. “Also, what other video games would make good movies?”

“I’m still waiting for the day when an 'Among Us' movie comes out.”

Isaac laughed. “Oh, absolutely. Oh, and here’s a specific one: Roblox’s ‘Sacrifice Sanctuary’.”

“Even better,” Aiden interjected, “the demon-baby mode on ‘Who’s Your Daddy’.”

Isaac snorted a laugh, nearly choking on the coke he was drinking. Some other people in the food court looked their way as Isaac snort-laughed for a minute, and Aiden laughed as well.

When they stopped laughing, Isaac looked at his phone. “Hey, you wanna see Spirit? She should be on her lunch break now. Maybe we could all come back here to eat before she’s back to work.”

Aiden nodded in agreement, and the two of them stood and continued chatting on their way back to the music store.

When they rounded the corner, they were surprised to see a crowd around the store and employees telling people to clear away and back off, saying the store was closed due to an emergency.

Isaac and Aiden exchanged confused glances.

Then, suddenly, two EMTs came out of the store while wheeling someone on a stretcher. Both boys could immediately tell who it was. Both of them paled and felt their stomachs drop as they saw Spirit’s sobbing form—teeth clenched and red-faced and crying out in pain—being wheeled away.

“Shit,” Isaac said, quickly going after the EMTs. Aiden, without a second thought, went after her as well.

— — —

Spirit felt heavy. As if she’d just been sleeping for a hundred years. As if her body was filled with lead.

Spirit?

She tried opening her eyes, but her lids were heavy, and she just felt so sleepy.

Spirit? Are you awake?

She struggled to blink a few times. Slowly, her senses began to come back to her.

“Spirit?”

There was a fuzzy form in front of her. She blinked and blinked until colors came together and she could see Isaac’s relieved face. “Welcome back,” the blonde chuckled.

Isaac was to her right, but she felt a hand holding her left hand, and she turned her head to see Aiden there, also looking relieved.

Her brows pinched slightly. “Why. . . What hap- Ah!” She quickly realized that moving—even just shifting the tiniest bit—was a mistake. She barely shifted an inch, and the movement pulled on her stomach, sending a shuddering burst of pain through her.

“Take it easy,” Aiden said softly, using his free hand to stroke her hair. “You’re okay.”

She frowned, her confusion evident on her face.

“You had appendicitis,” Isaac told her. Then he chuckled. “Explains why you were such a grouch today.”

Spirit narrowed her eyes at him, making him chuckle again and bend down to give her a hug. Isaac pulled away and looked at Aiden. “I’ll go find the doctor and tell him she’s awake.”

Aiden nodded, and Isaac left.

“Why are both of you here?” Spirit suddenly asked tiredly.

Aiden smiled and shrugged. “Isaac and I hung out and talked after we left you. He’s a cool guy.”

To her own surprise, Spirit actually felt glad that Aiden seemed to get along with Isaac. “Yeah,” she agreed. “He is.”

Aiden’s hand that was petting her hand moved down and he started to stroke her cheek. “I think you were feverish when I saw you this morning,” he said. “I felt how warm your cheek was when I hugged you. You’re cooler now.”

Spirit felt herself blush at the feeling of his hand on her cheek. “Sorry I won’t get to enjoy your surprise today. What was it gonna be?”

Aiden smiled and blushed softly at that, looking a bit surprised that she brought it up. “I was going to take you out to dinner. Isaac gave me some advice on where to take you. And I was going to. . . “ ask you to be my girlfriend, he finished in his head.

Spirit raised a curious brow, waiting for him to finish.

Aiden’s smile turned sheepish like it does when he’s nervous. Spirit knew the look all too well by now.

He shook his head. “That was it. I was gonna take you out on a dinner date. But we can always reschedule.”

Spirit nodded, too tired to read Aiden. She tried shifting again, only to wince. “It hurts.”

Aiden sighed and squeezed her hand. “I know. Maybe the doctor can give you something for the pain.”

She nodded and turned to head to lean into his palm, closing her eyes again. “Thank you for being here,” she mumbled.

Aiden felt his heart flutter a bit, and he smiled. “Of course,” he said, and he leaned down to plant a kiss on her forehead.

He had never done that before, and Spirit opened her eyes to look at him with surprise. Her cheeks pinked and she smiled, closing her eyes again and planting her own small kiss on the inside of his wrist.

By the time Isaac came back with the doctor, Spirit was out cold once more, and the doctor said the lingering effects of the anesthesia might make her come in and out of consciousness, and he checked her vitals quickly before leaving once more.

Isaac sat on a chair by Spirit’s bed, gently rubbing his friend’s shoulder. “The doctor told me that once she’s discharged, she should have someone to take care of her. I’m gonna leave really quickly so I can set up my guest room for her at my place. Can you stay, or do you have somewhere to be?”

“I can stay.” Looking down at Spirit’s sleeping and peaceful face, Aiden smiled and said, “The only place I need to be right now is here.”

Here, he thought to himself. Here with her.

With this girl who I’m entirely in love with.

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

@bellysoupset

[i-love-lilies]

Se-mi x OC Anything for you - Chapter two

Hihihi it started to get interesting

The man was in front of the groupe, explaining the game.

« Green light red light ? Again ? Is it always the first game ? » my dad just nodded and shush me. I couldn’t believe that I was here, looking at this horrible game. How could they handle that. How could I just watch it and do nothing ? I just was a monster just like them, nothing different from them. The game start, it’s so boring. The game are long and nothing really happen. I look at my phone again, no message, shit. I think she’s really angry.

The first player been eliminated, a woman, more or less my age i would say. And then people started to scream and run, of course been eliminated too. It’s always the same, every single years. They didn’t know they could die, no one explain that to us before accept to play the game and when 456 try, they didn’t believe him. Of course they didn’t, that crazy, why people would do that to them ? People like me, like my father or our host. For money, like them, it’s always for money. All the collaborators worked on the game, it organizations and to chose different games. The entertainment is not for us at first, but for again more wealthy people than us, the VIP. Psycho…I look at the screen, a lot of eliminated player were at the back of the play room. All died.

I didn’t pay much attention to the end of the game, I didn’t want to watch that and when it finally end I realize that our host wasn’t here anymore. My dad stood up so I follow him and we go talk about this first game with the other collaborators.

« I think 456 will be a problem this year, he’s not here for the money… » said my dad

« For sure, but I’m sure the frontman will do something, he won’t be a problem longer. » respond a woman. Of course, if this man cause too much problems, he will quickly been eliminated for a strange reason. I take a look to the screen, players were on their dormitory. They started to become agitated, but then, the piggy bank started to fill up with wad of bills.

« So, the frontman have a surprise for you, but before that, the players choose to vote. If the majority decide to leave, they will leave. » said the waiters. That was interesting, with a little bit of luck I will return home soon to see Se-mi and apologize to her.

The first man who vote was 456, and he choose to stop. I don’t understand, he already win the game, come again even if he know what happen and then just stop at the first game ? The score was tight, like really tight and player go one by one vote. I could understand they wanted to stay, they all need this money and the price they could have if they go now is not enough. But why staying and die when you can just go and survive.

I start to feel weird, I have a very bad feeling. Not just that the majority would stay… no, more. Like a curse. Something is happening and I don’t know what or how it would be terrible. But the only thing that I know for sure is that is bad.

« Player 380 » call the guy with a square mask. Player 380 move forward to the machine and…

« Oh fuck. » it was Se-mi. I feel my legs shaking, no, it’s impossible. She couldn’t do that to me. I need her to be alive. I just couldn’t hear the world around me. But it was crashing around me, breaking my peace and my heart. I just can’t loose her. My heartbeat and my breath go faster, and a deep anger take my stomach. My eyes started watering and my mouth was shaking. That bitch go to those stupid game without telling me, and she will die here. She have to choose X, to go home and survive. She’s not that idiot to continue. I propose to pay all her debt, she didn’t need to stay. Nor to go to those stupid games !

O

I close my eyes and lower my head. « Fucking slut… why ? » a tears running down my cheek. I could do anything for her and she just go kill herself without telling me ?

« Everything is going right honey ? » ask my dad

« Yes sure » I said between my teeth.

I can’t let her kill herself, if she has to stay in I would do anything to make her leave this place.

I need to talk to the frontman,

I’m sure that with a bit of money he would let her go… maybe a lot. But I’ll give him whatever he want to let her leave. Scores was equals when the last player been called, « Player 001 ». A man move forward, like the other before him. And without real hesitation press O, just like Se-mi. Oh shit… Okay, I really need to talk to the frontman.

But when the man look at the other players and so, the camera that we were watching them with. I see him, the frontman. The frontman was on the game. The world was moving around me, how could I get Se-mi out of this place without him. The others collaborators started to speak, chocked, just like me.

« Why would he do that ? » « Oh my god… did he want to die ? » « what madness » « that incredible » « very good surprise. »

Everyone was thinking something different, when one was questioning his idea to go to the game, other were impressed and were laughing.

« He would never disappoint us ! »

He’s an idiot too, how could I get out Se-mi if his on the game too ?

—> Master list

[guardkeywolf]

Demon!Male Reader + 141 feat. Alejandro + König 2

This was definitely a weird thing to write (still is), to be honest, and I DID NOT expect people to ask for a Part 2!

This one is shorter than the first one, but if yall want another one, that will be longer. Plus, I may end up mixing the C.L.A.W.S in, possibly, but that depends on what y'all say in the comments...

But now, it is here, folks! So please enjoy!

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All Y/n could do was run...

They had saw him, watched him, heard him...

They would never accept him for what or who he was ever again.

They would only despise him now. Hell, to really think he could have kept it a secret... he was such a fool. Stupid to even have the slightest bit of hope that he would keep him demon side at bay and in control.

All he could do was run now... and never look back.

...

No one muttered a word on the ride back to the base.

How could they? After what they had just saw, Price could only imagine where the team was at mentally.

Gaz looked lost in his own head, his stare blank and frightened as he was still in shock from it all.

Ghost... God where did he ever start.

The man looked like he was ready to kill someone, checking his gun for what was the third time now, taking out the magazine and counting his bullets again and again.

Soap, he was quiet like Gaz, probably also stuck in his head from the scene as well. Price couldn't blame him though, after seeing what... what Y/n had done to that man's body...

König and Alejandro, they were probably the most shaken up but didn't dare show it. König kept his thoughts to himself and Alejandro was in his own corner saying something in Spanish about "God", or at least that's what Price managed to catch.

Overall, no one was expecting tonight to go as sideways as it did. They all have seen their fair share of shit on the field, no doubt about it when it came to this line of work, but to watch one of their own be the cause of it...

Price couldn't do anything but sigh outloud.

It was heavy, sad, and everyone felt it.

Price could only close his eyes as he replayed to chaos, the turmoil, the... the massacre in his head again quietly.

The screams of agony... the carcasses that once lived hanging from the ceiling, the blood, the organs, the bones, and the flesh... it looked like more than a murder scene.

He remembered walking through it all, remembered the smell of copper and death in the air, the feeling of a man's hand grab ahold of his ankle, looking down to a sight he regretted instantly. The man's torse was all that was left of him, his intestines spilling out like a worm trying to wring itself from the dirt.

His eyes, pleading from someone to save him, but his fate said otherwise. Tears were all that pricked at the edges of his eyes, shock, fear, and pain all rolled into one. That's what was left on his face as he passed quickly. The light in his eyes fading as he took his last breath, and his grip on Price's leg loosening just as quick as it was there.

A small heartache found Price, as he replayed the scene in his head. He had seen nothing like it before. Just like he had seen nothing like Y/n that night either.

He opened his eyes again to stare at his team.

He didn't know were he stood now.

And with Y/n... he hoped soon he could get some answers...

That they all could get some answers, to what the hell had just happened.

...

Running was all Y/n was good for...

Running was and would always be apart of him until met his fate in the end.

He grew to hate it but it was the only way he had survived all these years...

Running.

Running from his life, his past, his future... he always ran away from all of it.

He was a fool to think that working with the 141 would work out for him, that he could actually find people who he could trust, that he could call a family, that he could...

No.

They resented him now and there was no point in going back.

He recalled the looks of digust written on each man's face, watching as he had easily tore through the flesh of that corpse, eating in front of them with little to no shame. Not one ounce of it.

Y/n knew they would never look at him the same way now. For all he knew, they had probably already dispatched a group to look for him and try to eliminate him. Of course, their guns wouldn't kill him, not unless they were made of the same material their swords were.

But he highly doubted it. Demon Slayers had long died off and Y/n was sure of it. He had checked too.

His legs could only carry him so far until he stopped, his stomach growling for attention as he stood there.

He was hungry, and he needed to eat. If he was lucky, he'd find a rabbit running around like him, trying to survive only to be killed for the benefit of its captor.

His scent caught onto the blood quickly, moving with haste as he hunted in the night. The forest thick shadows kept him hidden as he moved through stealthy on all fours, taking his time as he located his prey. The grass floor hid him from the moonlight, and then he saw it.

Y/n's mouth watered at the sight and without a second thought he pounced.

...

Price and the others got of the copper, silent as they made their way into the base.

He didn't mutter a word to the rest as he quickly went to go put up his gun and make his way back to his room.

He needed a shower.

Laswell could wait because he needed time to process what the hell had just happened.

He stepped into the room, shedding his clothes and gear as he did so. He turned the shower on, letting it warm up before stepping him and scrubbing himself until the he forgot.

Forgot the scene. Forgot the sounds. Forgot about... Y/n.

He sighed to himself as he could only wonder about where the man had went. He knew Laswell would have questions that he didn't have answers to in the morning but right now, he needed sleep.

If Y/n was still out there, he'd get those answers and do whatever it took to save him.

You can't run forever Y/n...

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Again, I want to thank everyone who read!

If you liked reading this piece, please feel free to REBLOG with the TAGS!

Doing this makes it easier to navigate y'alls Tumblr pages!

Thank you again for reading!

-Guards

[theanticool]

Idk if you've talked about it yet, but what is your take on the Mokaev situation? I do believe the ufc (shockingly) when they say he was a problem to work with but it's not like that's ever stopped them from promoting someone. And what now for him since it seems like most major organizations have passed over him?

Mokaev is a shithead but he’s not even top 5 right now in the UFC in that regard. Like all the stuff he’s done is stuff other fighters have done. The whole “he was secretly negotiating with PFL” talk is wack to me. I don’t care. It’s his job to inflate his own price. Also, I don’t believe Dana white when he says anything.

Dana shit talking him the way basically blackballed him from any other big time promotion. It sucks. Is Mokaev a “fun” fighter? No not really. But he’s basically a top 5 flyweight in the UFC. And the only reason this is happening is because he is a flyweight. And if what Mokaev said is true and one of the matchmakers told him to stop trying to wrestle, this sport is heading in a very dangerous, very stupid direction.

[mehoymalloy]

also, 26 + 28 for Silga & Untalla (could be each for both or just one abt the other, whichever you feel like)

I'm desperate for more beloved blorbo thoughts. you cursed me and now I suffer, so I must turn the blade back on you.... that sounded far more theatrical than just 'I miss them', sorry.

26. What they would do if stuck in an elevator with [insert character of your choice from the same fandom]

Congrats lucky winner! You get two headcanons for the price of one! As you know, I headcanon that Untalla is scared of deep water, but that also extends to cramped and enclosed spaces in a general sense. Add onto that that her stress response is basically 'stab the stressor til it stops being scary' and she will be climbing the walls trying to find a way out. Like they're going to have a reverse climbing the cliffside moment of Silga using her superior upper body strength to pull Untalla into a bear hug and just refusing to let go until Untalla manages to calm herself down (which she will manage to do relatively quickly, and then be so fucking embarrassed about it afterwards. Not to mention confused because if tight spaces bother her then why the hell doesn't being held tightly and restrained also?? Because it's a fucking hug, stupid, and you are platonically down bad specifically for Silga, it should not surprise you at this point that she's the exception for a lot of your rules.)

Silga, meanwhile, is like 'well shit' and goes into Get Shit Done mode, methodically tackling the problem until it's fixed if possible, periodically pausing to not-so-subtly check in on Untalla and giving her menial tasks to help keep her occupied and distracted.

28. How they feel about [insert character of your choice from the same fandom]

THEY ARE SOME FORM OF SOULMATES, YOUR HONOR.

Silga looks up to Untalla so much; she sees her as so strong and and put-together after everything she's been through, but with that said, she loves seeing Untalla's quieter, more whimsical moments of joy when discovering or trying something new, rather that be Old World knowledge or cultural exposure to other clans.

Untalla would kill without hesitation and with a straight face for Silga. Dramatic, I know, but she takes the good old "your enemy is mine" saying that the Tenakth have so seriously it's a little scary. And even knowing Silga is a grown woman who can protect herself, after everything they went through, Untalla will always have an especially alert but not stifling protective streak for Silga. She also just plain adores the girl. She's smart and capable and a little annoying and the bestest friend she's ever had (Granted she will never say any of this, and any outward sign of these feelings is so fucking subtle, she's too stoic for any emotion that isn't anger lol).

-

And because you made me think about them, I went back digging through my Google Docs to find an old WIP. You can see how old this is based on the fact that 1) I've been using Obsidian as my primary writing program for a year now (I should really transfer all this stuff over, huh...) and 2) I used "</>" as my editing brackets, which ended up being inconvenient because TTS reads them aloud.

ANYWAY, have some hurt/comfort because I MISS THEMB NOW TOO, FUCK.

~

Untalla lied in silence, hesitantly running through half-memorized movements, looking for a specific holo she had seen. Not the stylized colors and depictions of the Ten, but real people. Silga had skimmed past it earlier while looking for something else to show her, and Untalla hadn't wanted to ask her to pause. It wasn't that important. But she wanted to see.

So once Silga had fallen asleep, Untalla had carefully picked up her Focus. Untalla had her own, so the holo was likely on there somewhere, but Silga was very meticulous about organization, and Untalla had memorized the shapes that went with familiar sounds, groupings based on category.

FARO PLAGUE

OPERATION ENDURING VICTORY

PROJECT ZERO DAWN

TEN (<insert war name>)

These were only the ones Untalla knew intimately, consumed in a heavy and silent session with Silga, both sitting up late into the night, learning to understand. Sleeping fitfully only to wake up and do it all again. 

But there was a holo in the wrong place, which Silga had played in confusion only to immediately pause and move to somewhere else, 'MISC.'

When Untalla found it, she hesitated. Then she lifted her hand that extra inch upward, watching the light move as if she physically pushed a button though she felt nothing at her fingertips. And the holo played.

<WHAT WILL THE HOLO BE?>

<WHAT WILL THE MEMORY BE?>

Untalla watched until her vision grew blurry, blinked rapidly when it disturbed her, only for something warm to trickle down her temple. It was only once Untalla realized she was crying that her breathing abruptly hitched. Her chest spasmed. Fingers shook as she abruptly reached for the Focus on her ear, her first instinct to stop it from the source rather than press one of the lights projected over her head.

But she pressed the wrong thing. As her fingers fumbled for the relic, the sound suddenly changed. What was initially a tinny little voice in her ear, suddenly became loud, filling the tiny space of their shared home. Untalla couldn't even curse herself before Silga had bolted upright, whipping her head around wildly before landing on her, startled fear immediately melting into confused concern.

"I'm sorry," Untalla gritted out as she sat up as well, still fumbling with the relic at her ear. "I wanted to shut it off but I somehow made it louder and–"

Right as Untalla resolved to rip it away and shove it into Silga's hands, Silga reached out, fingers just skimming Untalla's temple before touching something on the Focus, then the sound was back to the quiet din in her ear, and she reached out with a pathetically shaky hand to pause the holo correctly.

The silence felt stifling in a way it hadn't since Aloy first gave them these relics, since they learned everything. Untalla stared at a <something about the house or wherever (like peeling strip of wood)> as she said, "There was a holo I wanted to see. I'm sorry I used your Focus, I wasn't sure how to find it on my own." When she handed Silga the Focus, she couldn't meet her eyes.

Silga took it gently, placed it back on her bedside table before turning to Untalla again. Untalla could see her facing her in her periphery, though she kept her gaze trained away.

"You're crying," Silga whispered, and damn if the softness in her voice didn't make Untalla cry more. Untalla swiped below her eyes, scrubbing her face roughly before taking a deep breath, face still hidden in her hands. When she dropped her hands and turned her gaze on Silga—on a loose thread in her shirt. Her muttered "I'm fine" wouldn't fool <phrase.>

Untalla took another deep breath, tried to say it again, more assured, but her voice broke. "Damnit," she hissed.

Silga reached out and placed a hand on her knee. "Untalla, talk to me, please."

"It's this holo… it just…reminded me of my parents. I shouldn't have watched it."

Silga was silent for a long moment, before she asked "Do you mind if I watch it?"

"Of course not, it's your Focus."

Silga turned and abruptly lied back down. Untalla watched as her hands flew through the movements, much faster than her own. Then, she hesitated. When Untalla skirted her gaze up to Silga's she found her watching her. "Do you wanna watch it with me?"

"No." Untalla winced when her voice was too loud in the stillness—too harsh.

Then, contradicting herself, she lay back down beside Silga, scooting closer until their shoulders were almost but not quite brushing. Silga tapped something that projected all the lights again, and she apparently adjusted the sound, because when <what/whoever it is> began speaking, it was a soft drone in the night, something Untalla could almost fall asleep to. 

[ser-rctslcyer]

Title: Lead The Way Captain

Pairing: Cassian Andor x Gender-neutral! Reader

Word Count: 840

Request:  46.“what did I do to deserve you? + 35. “How did I get so lucky?”

Warnings: Fluff, Idiots in Love, Banter, Pre-Canon

A/N: Requestor is me sluts– I love my little spy husband.

When Cassian had asked you to join him for a scrap run, you didn’t think much of it. In most cases, it went smoothly; sneaking in and out all without much trouble. There was a small handful of times in which there were serious altercations, that resulted in a quick shootout but it was manageable. What there wasn’t a lot of, was avoiding a handful of Imperial Probe Droids and slinking onto a Galactic Empire space train. 

The two of you clung closed doors, keeping low, as blustery winds blasted all around you. Cassian fumbled through his pockets pulling out a keycard you didn’t even know he had. You both ran through, and he shut the door quickly to keep from making any more loud noises. Hiding behind large cargo crates, you waited, blasters in hand in case anyone had come to check it out but there were no footsteps. 

“This doesn’t look like any scrap to me,” you holstered your blaster, tapping the symbol on one of the crates. 

“Imperial scrap,” he deadpanned, shrugging his shoulders as he made his way to the front.

“You are unbelievably stupid.”

“This should be quick, everything’s organized,” he gestured towards all the goods. 

“Easy with probe droids, active troopers, and ISB on board?”

“Are you going to complain the whole way through or help?”

“I’ll help. Besides, I don’t need you doing anything dumb without me,” you chided, and he shook his head, reaching into his bag.

“The box we’re looking for should look a little something like this,” he held up his holoprojector, letting you take a good look before he slipped it back into his pocket. “You go 5 more cars up and search from there, I’ll get the ones here and we meet in the middle. There’s an hour window between each check-through, so you better move fast,” he whispered hastily, handing you a different keycard and a comlink. 

“Are you implying I’m slow, Andor?”

“Not implying, just pointing out.”

“You little shit,” he grins and you smack him in the shoulder.

“Keep on delaying like that, and you’re gonna get caught,” he teased, opening the next door. You bit your tongue, smirking as you stalked off through the cars. 

The dull hum of the tracks keeps the silence from feeling too eerie as you searched. He had only checked in on you about a half hour through but the rest was quiet. It was nearing the hour but you took your chances going one more car up. You could practically hear the guards talking as you carefully snuck back, rushing toward the middle. Stepping as lightly as possible, you were too worried about looking behind you until you bumped directly into Cassian. 

Before either of you could get out a reply, he took your hand leading you between to crate which had a tarp draped over it. You lifted it and the two of you got in and waited for them. Barely a few minutes later the guards came in; a close call.

You were both standing chest to chest, breaths fanning over each other’s faces. Even through the dimness of the tarp, you can see Cassian’s eyes moving from your eyes to your lips and back. You smirk, biting back a laugh as he shakes his head silently, right as the car door shuts. 

“So what brings you here?”

“And you call me stupid.”

“Are we not hiding right now–” you jokingly look over your shoulder, “to not get shot?”

“You’re here with me.”

“Fair enough,” you shrug. He chuckles, and the rumble of his laughter makes your own chest shake for a different reason. 

“Find what you were looking for?”

“Not yet,” he looks down at his bag, running his finger over the shoulder strap, “but I did find us a couple of things we can sell. I’m sure Bix could help us get a heftier price.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” you gush, cupping his bearded cheek. You can feel his face heat up, eyes mapping all over your face. 

“I don’t know, I think the better question is,“ he brushed his nose against yours, “how did I get so lucky?” You can��t suppress your smile, warmth blooming through your chest. 

“You’re right that is the better question, because look what I found.”

“You got it,” he exclaimed and you shushed him. 

“I did,” you raved, about to boast until he kissed you. You whine softly, tugging at the front of his shirt as you kiss back. He licks inside your mouth and in response, you nip back at his lips. The two of you far too distracted by one another to notice the guards passing through again until you the car door shut again. 

“I think they’re gone now,” you whisper breathlessly, and Cassian steals one last kiss before stepping out with you. 

“Good, we should get out of here now.”

“Got somewhere you gotta be?”

“Yeah, but only if you come with,” he winked, licking his lips. 

“Lead the way, Captain.”

[gods-no-longer-tread-here]

here have a cute AU:

“Junpei, do you think I’m cute enough to be a sugarbaby?”

Junpei shot his best friend in the whole world an exasperated look. “No, but you’re stupid enough for it,” he said.

Yuji grinned hopefully from his position of sprawled upside-down on the concrete steps next to Junpei. “You think?” he asked brightly. “Maybe if I work out more I can be stupid and strong enough that some rich old lady will pay my bills!”

Junpei rolled his eyes and smacked Yuji’s shin. “Maybe, but you’d have to move somewhere with lots of rich old ladies, like Kyoto or Tokyo.”

“Oh, that’s true…” Yuji mused, and sighed regretfully. “Ah, well. I suppose the bakery doesn’t pay too badly.” Then he smiled again and said, “By the way, I forgot to ask about your mom. How’s she doing?”

“She’s fine. Worried about you, but fine.”

“Aw, she doesn’t have to worry, I’m alright. I miss her cooking, though.”

“I keep telling you, you can move in with us whenever you want.”

“But I own my house. Why don’t you two move in with me?”

“Because that’s weird. People will think you’re dating my mom.”

“I wouldn’t mind dating your mom. She’s nice.”

“I would mind!”

Yuji laughed and Junpei couldn’t help a smile. There had always been something so relaxing about spending time with Yuji. A complete lack of seriousness to anything. When they did have deep conversations, it was always comfortable, and Junpei left every one of them feeling relieved, and grateful that they’d moved to Sendai two years ago.

He’d been upset at first, about moving right in the middle of his first year of high school, but then he’d met Sasaki-chan and Iguchi-kun, and joined their Occult Phenomenon club because he didn’t feel like trying to start a film club. Then Yuji had joined them, and it was like everything had fallen into place. There was nothing and no one that could resist Itadori Yuji’s implacable kindness and good cheer, not even Junpei’s deeply-held cynicism. Within a month of becoming friends, Junpei’s mother had commented with approval that the move seemed to have agreed with him; and he hadn’t been able to contradict her.

Then, three months into the school year, Yuji’s grandfather had died.

“Would your grandpa have an opinion on you getting a sugarmama?” Junpei asked, putting his chin in his hand.

Yuji snorted. “Of course he would, and he’d say it’s a bad idea. But I’m not exactly helping people by just baking bread and selling it at unfair prices. I’d rather at least be earning lots of money so I can donate to people in need, or have the time to volunteer at shelters and with organizations that help.”

“Mm,” Junpei said, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. They’d already had many conversations about Yuji’s grandfather’s dying wish. There was no point rehashing it now. “Would being a sugarbaby be worth it to you? You’d have to be attentive and flattering to someone who might be truly heinous.”

“That’s true. Can I smile and compliment someone for pay if I know my livelihood depends on the suffering of others?” Yuji sighed again and swiveled on the concrete steps before scooting up them on his behind to sit next to Junpei and lean against his shoulder. “Man, I’m glad I asked you about this, Junpei. You’re a lot smarter than me.”

“Nah, you’re plenty smart,” Junpei assured him, blushing faintly. His stomach felt funny, almost ticklish, with how close Yuji was, but he didn’t really want his friend to pull away. “You’re just too focused on the goal to see the sewers you have to slog through to get there.”

Yuji laughed and leaned his head on Junpei’s for a moment. “And you’re too focused on the shit to see that the goal is only a few meters away, and you’ve already got waders on. Okay, I won’t do it. I’ll stick with the bakery.”

Junpei wanted to ask if he could kiss Yuji, but that felt too weird. So he just smiled, and offered dinner with him and his mother. Yuji accepted with a grin, and the two teens got up to hop on their bikes and race each other to the Yoshino home.

[dextixer]

On Conventions, and why it is good that Roosterteeth is getting rid of RTX.

So, many people have probably already noticed and have been made aware that RTX is not happening this year. I have seen many reactions to these news, anger, joy, satisfaction, dismay etc. What i have also seen is people asking some good questions and making some bad conclussions too, like for example the person talking about how RTX made RT money and the like, so i wanted to put my two cents in.

Do be aware that im not an expert, nor an event organizer myself, the information i will share here has been gathered mostly from the comments and statements made by organizers and those who have participated in these events.

Conventions arent profitable

First things first, everyone should keep this in their minds moving forward. CONVENTIONS ARE NOT PROFITABLE. There are exceptions of course, but at large, most conventions operate at a loss, especially those that occur in the United States.

It all comes down to cost versus earnings ratio, which more often than not, does not fall to the side of earnings. To make a convention, one has to organize a venue, staff, events, security, decorations, catering and many such associated details. Venues alone cost a LOT of money, this is not like me, a random Eastern European dude renting out a specially prepared cottage for a party with friends, Venues are specifically made and built for conventions, they are extremelly sought after and they KNOW it, as such their costs are often jacked up to high heavens, especially since things like location matter to them extremelly. The problem is even worse in the United States where many venues jack up the prices to, quite frankly, criminal ammounts.

Earnings for such events are also, not amazing. Lets remember, most of these conventions are fan-events. So if a convention isnt sponsored by a corporation, most of its earnings will be things like ticket sales, people renting out space for vendors etc, sometimes signatures and even auctions.

As such, most "profitable" conventions are the low-key ones. The ones that are small-scale, that can get cheaper venues, and thus save on the costs while being able to profit.

Big companies can afford to make big conventions at a loss because to them, its partially a flex and partially an advertisement for the company. Think of things like Blizzcon.

RT however is in a shit position of NOT being a big enough company to spend money willy nilly, but also, their conventions are not small enough, to turn in a profit either.

Cutting Fat is good

RT is not in a good state. Those critical of the show and the company in general have known that for a long time now, despite the crying and bleating of some of the biggest of fanatics that "RT IS DOING GREAT GUYS!" and other such nonsense. We know RT is in a shit state, they know that they are in a shit state, everyone with open eyes knows they are in a shit state.

As such, cutting costs is actually good.

For a long time RT has acted as a "big" company due to the success of RWBY. When RWBY blew up, so did RT, they expanded into other animated projects, started high-profile conventions, started hiring TOP class VA's etc. The thing is, the golden years dont always last.

Many a Youtuber has said as much over the years, many of them have shared that they know that they wont be popular forever, and those smart among them build up nest-eggs from the money they earn on Youtube and streaming in general.

If a youtuber refuses to accept that they are becoming less popular, well, their ending can be less than pretty. The same applies to companies like RT. After RWBY became less popular, RT did not have the golden goose anymore. They could not afford to make stupid financial decisions anymore.

So now, they are trimming the fat.

Which is good.

Possible brighter future

Hope for the best, but expect the worst, that is my current opinion on this. Trimming the fat and tightening up that belt might result in RT being able to squeeze out some smaller profile shows and earn enough money to possibly come back to RWBY, or at least make a movie to end it.

It might help the company, and as far as im aware, this is the right step to take. At the same time, this can also just... Not be enough.