#a well oiled machine and nothing more nothing less

[underratedbreadcrust]

Chance Equals Fortune — Prologue

Squid Game | The Salesman x F!Reader

Summary: parasites. that is the only thing he thinks of when he meets the players he is meant to recruit. but what happens when he meets you and you are nothing of what he expects.

an au where the salesman lives and becomes a player.

Warnings: swearing and classist thinking. in the future there will probably be canon-typical violence and i'm still debating on smut.

a/n: happy new years! i'm sorry i couldn't upload this earlier i had to deal with some long distant relatives. however, due to popular demand here is the gong yoo fic as promised. this was originally supposed to be under 1k words...

Words: 2.1k

Click. Click. Click

Those are the sounds of pristine perfectly polished black shoes on concrete. The soles of the shoes worn by a handsome-looking businessman echoed loudly, causing the sounds to reverberate into the jet-black sky. As he walked beneath the faint luminescence of street lights, case in hand and his head held high, his eyes searched for the next prey to fall victim to his silver tongue. The same mouth that twisted dark truths into sweet promises others couldn't dare reject. Never once has his articulate way of speaking failed to deliver the precise words necessary to provide his superiors with a new batch of fresh meat to satisfy their sadistic tendencies. To him, it was all the same. One less piece of vermin in the world, and more importantly, one less leech to drain the well-oiled machine that is society.

Today was no different as he strolled along the sidewalk of a small park near the outskirts of Seoul. While he walked, he felt indifferent towards the small details, like the light breeze swaying the tree branches above or the faint smell of dog shit wafting through the air. Having trained himself to ignore anything and everything that could be a possible distraction from his mission. What was his mission again? Ah yes, currently that would be you.

His steps immediately halted as he spotted your figure in the distance, a dark shadow looming over a bed of flowers and a trail of smoke emitting from the cigarette between your fingers. There you are. He squared his shoulders as he fixed his expression into one of casual ease. Now, all he had left to do was to convince you all of the problems that have stemmed from your pathetic life could be solved in the blink of an eye. That your worries could dissolve as quickly as skin in acid.

He began to move again, taking long strides to where you were standing. In the time he took to reach you, he jotted some quick mental notes.

One. Your relaxed stance oozed confidence and uninterest despite being a young lady positioned in one of the most crime-infested spots of the city in the dead of night. Meaning you either had a weapon on you or had sufficient defense skills, possibly both. He must tread carefully.

Two. You were positioned next to a tall fountain, atop stood a small marble figure of a gumiho. The spot infamously known for the shady transactions dealing with drugs and other nefarious crimes. Perhaps you were waiting for someone? He'd have to keep an eye out for any newcomers that could interrupt his process.

Three. Your mouth was...moving?

His steps faltered. There was no other person around within a 3-mile radius whom you could be conversing with, nor did you have a phone in hand. How odd. In his time as a recruiter, he has encountered all kinds of people. Drug addicts, the mentally ill, and one memorable case a delirious man on the brink of death, hallucinating from hunger. You, however, seemed perfectly sane. Keyword…seemed. He shook his head, quickly putting a halt to his thoughts. He had no time to ponder over whatever weird traits you may have, he came here to do one job. He resumed his trek towards you and was soon standing mere feet from you.

Show time.

“Excuse me miss, may I have a minute of your time?”

You remain standing still, making no indication that you had noticed him. Your eyes were distant while you continued to murmur but no sound came out. He wasn’t sure if you were ignoring him or if you really were that unaware of your surroundings. Now that won’t do.

“Miss?” He tried again tentatively, his head tilting curiously as he stepped in your line of sight. “Are you alright?”

Finally, your eyes shifted into focus, taking a moment to adjust. For a brief moment, it appeared as if you were lost. However, that moment soon passed and your eyes narrowed, annoyance filling your features.

“Why did you interrupt me?”

The bite in your tone was enough to make him raise an eyebrow. Perhaps you really weren’t in the right state of mind after all. “Interrupt?”

You scoffed, ignoring the question you brought the cigarette back to your lips. Taking in a long drag before you released the smoke right in his face. His mouth turned downward in displeasure.

“Do you need something?” You snapped, your jaw clenching as you slid your free hand in your pocket. He caught the way your finger twitched as you did so. Weapon it is then.

His face instantly changed back to that previous pleasant expression, his lips curving into a kind smile though with a lack of warmth in his eyes. Instead replaced by an empty, clinical look.

”I don’t mean to be a bother ma’am, but I’m here to offer you a proposal you’re sure to like,” he states in a neutral tone, having uttered a variation of those words dozens of times. “A way to better improve your current economic situation.”

Your body tenses as your eyes dart over his figure eyeing the suitcase, no doubt analyzing him as a threat. “Look I already said I’d pay him back!” He watches as you chuck the cigarette to the ground and stomp on it. “If he keeps rushing me like this then don’t expect to get a single won out of me! I don’t give a shit who he is!” Your volume rises as you take a step back, ready to sprint if needed.

He raises his arm in surrender. “That’s not what I’m here for. As I’ve stated, I only want to help.” His mind is conjuring up the best way to ease the tension.

He hesitantly takes a step forward.

Your eyes immediately look back down. “What’s in the case?”

Another step.

“I work for a group of people whose only interest is to help those who are struggling. Our objective being to ease the burden of the majority.” He swiftly places the case at the base of the fountain, unlocking the latch but leaving it closed. “See for yourself.”

You were the one to take the final step, closing the gap between the two of you. You gave him one more skeptical look before you focused all of your attention on what was in front of you. Slowly, both hands reached out and flipped the top wide open. Your eyes widened as you took in the contents of what was inside, or more specifically, the big wads of cash.

You remained silent, frozen as a statue as you simply stared. In an instant, you whipped your head in his direction. You took the time to study him, your mouth slightly agape and a certain look in your eye he couldn't quite place. A couple of seconds passed, you clamped your mouth shut and swallowed thickly, licking your lips before you finally managed to whisper, "What do you want?"

His mouth quirked upward in a smirk. Got you. "I'd like to play a game."

You belted out a high-pitched, contorted laugh. A childlike glee completely overcoming you. "Ab-so-fucking-lutely," you grinned from ear to ear, bouncing on the balls of your feet.

It dawned on him what that look in your gaze was...

Unstable.

A jolt of thrill shoots down his spine. "I'm sure you're familiar with the game ddakji," he reaches until he grabs the two colorful squares, carefully placing the red one on the ground, "for every time your square manages to flip mine, I will pay you 100,000 won."

You nod enthusiastically, your hand shooting out as he draws his hand in at the same time. "However, if you lose...you must pay me back the same amount."

You snatched the piece from him. “Deal.” You don't waste a single moment in hurling it, the force of the impact causing the sound to ricochet like a gunshot. The square goes flying, becoming a red blur. It stays in the air for a couple of seconds, but that time is enough for the experienced recruiter to know that you've already won. By the time it hits the ground, he doesn't even have to look to know it's flipped.

You look up expectantly at him.

He glances at her, jaw clenching. Well, this isn't how it usually goes. Before he can move to pay you, your voice cuts through the silence. "From the look on your face, you didn't want me to win, correct?" The lack of response on his part encourages you to continue. "How about, instead of doing whatever the hell you were thinking, I propose a new rule," you lean forward, your eyes sparkling with mirth, "we both keep throwing until one of us loses. If I win...you give me everything that's in that case."

"And what if I win?"

Your mouth twists into a devilish smirk. "Don't worry, you won't."

His eyes look you up and down, scanning you. His hands twitch in anticipation at the challenge, adrenaline manifesting itself as electricity in his veins. His bruised ego from losing the first round combined with his competitive nature was enough to make him agree. This was not part of the plan. He could just give you the money, the card, and go about his day like he has so many times before. He has no reason to play along other than he just wants to beat you.

"Alright," his previously fabricated smile now becoming genuine, "my turn."

With renewed vigor, he launches his square and as expected, it flips. He lets out an arrogant chuckle as he fixes his suit and stands up straight, his lips stretching into a satisfied smile.

This cycle continued for multiple rounds, the money long forgotten. The need to succeed fueled the violent fire between the two of you. After a while, he lost all track of time, fixating all of his attention solely on the game.

By now, his hair was disheveled and sweat dripped down his forehead. He panted as he recovered, his arm muscles aching from the consistent use. It was taking more energy than he was willing to admit in order to keep going but like hell if he'd let exhaustion be the cause of failing.

On his turn, he prepared himself to once again launch the disc. He readied himself, drawing his arm back and—

His eyes suddenly flickered to your lips, where your tongue darted out lick them. He watches intensely at your now damp, chapped lips, mouth slightly parted as you breathe heavily from fatigue.

In his moment of distraction, the square slips from his hand. He scrambles quickly to catch it but it's too late...

He's lost.

There is a long pause of silence, before your high-pitched cackle cuts through the air. His eyes widen in shock, the realization slowly setting in.

How...

He breathes out deeply through his nose, trying his best to compose himself. What the hell was that? How on earth could he have lost? He Never. Loses. He doesn't have any longer to dwell on the fact as you practically skip in joy to the case, already counting the amount. All of this because you managed to distract him.

Your voice soon interrupts his thoughts. "Maybe the next time you want to win, you might try not to let your eyes stray so far..." you say as you wink.

How did you even notice? Wait...was that on purpose? He clenches his fists until they turn white, the thought making his blood boil. He has half the mind to kill you and call it an accident just to quell his anger.

He closes his eyes in frustration. No, I can't ruin the games.

He takes in a couple of deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down. Once he knows that his voice won't betray any conflict he feels, he speaks again, "you know, there are other games such as the one we just played. And for much larger prizes as well."

He's back in his element, his persuasive tone of voice exuding reliability. He hands you the card, explaining how it works, how to enlist, and so on.

By the time he finishes his speech, you look mostly convinced. After inspecting the card more closely, your stare finds his, "I appreciate what you have done and thank you for the opportunity. I will consider your offer. If I do accept know it will only be due to a singular fact," your head leans closer, voice lowering to a whisper and your breath fanning over his, "I never lose"

On that note, you step back and walk away, never once turning to glance back at him. You soon disappear into the dark Seoul night, shadows blending with that of buildings and trees.

He lets out a small huff in amusement. If that is true, then he's excited to see how you'll fare in the games.

please don't be a silent reader i love reading comments and hearing your thoughts.

[nullapophenia]

SYNTHESIS.

{You’re intimately familiar with all the gears that work together to form you.}

[emilys-bangs]

the end of beginning | e.p

Tags: bau!reader, fluff, no use of yn, s2 baby emily, a whole lotta yearning

Summary: In which Emily is new to the team and finds a friend in you. Requested here.

Word count: 1.2k

Emily has always felt out of place. 

In high school, in her mother’s lavish gatherings, in the sprawling estate that she’d eventually learned to call home. It’s never something she can help, though with gritted teeth she developed the art of blending in with fake smiles and perfectly crafted words. It’s a habit that stuck with her, one she’s never quite learned how to shake off even after all these years.

So it makes sense that she doesn’t fit in at her new job.

It works just fine with her. Emily has had a lifetime to get used to it; isolation had become her friend, the liquid movement of her following shadow more than often her only, constant, companion. Despite that, she had a small, lingering hope. That maybe coming back to DC would mean making herself a home, finding—if not friends—companions that she could be casual with, invite out for a round of drinks when the thick silence of her apartment was too much.

Hope was quickly snuffed out. Her boss only thinly veils his distrust, and the youngest—Reid—stares at her with accusing eyes. The rest of her coworkers are lukewarm, not quite yet interested in getting to know her; their gazes are more often than not tinged with condescension, as if they’re not sure she’s earned her place. It seems like everyone’s waiting for her to slip up, for Hotch to chew her out and pluck her from the neatly rounded group they’ve found themselves being, a well oiled machine that works perfectly in order without her.

Everyone, apparently, except you.

You and Garcia, that is, but the tech analyst’s influence is a lot less reassuring given that it’s behind phone calls and computer screens most of the time. But with you there with her—in the field, at your joint desks in the bullpen—things are more bearable. 

“Hey.” 

You’re whispering slightly as you slip into the vacant seat in front of her, fingers wrapped around a steaming mug.

Emily looks up at you. The dimmed lights of the jet reflect in your eyes, painting you in softer edges as you sit down across from her without waiting for an invitation. There’s an easiness to your movements, one that she would say is out of place considering how long you’ve known her. Still, warmth spreads to her icy fingertips, and she can’t help the small smile that pulls at her lips.

“Hi,” she says back, matching your tone. Other than the hum of the jet itself—and the rumble of distant snores she’s too far away to be bothered by—a soothing silence has settled across the cabin, and her voice doesn’t carry much farther than your seat. The smile that you return is friendly, a sight that she’s been slowly getting accustomed to these past few weeks.

She’s a little surprised when you don’t offer anything more to say. You simply lean back in your seat and take a sip from your mug, her eyes tracing the bop of your throat as you swallow and look down at the sudoku in your hand. Emily’s finger is still slotted inside her book; she’d automatically marked the page and shut the cover closed when you appeared, some subconscious mechanism turning in her head so that you get her full attention.

The revelation that you might simply want her company comes too late. 

You’re looking back up at her, your eyes meeting hers as a slow warmth runs beneath her icy skin. Emily should look back down; she has nothing to say, other than the blunt but genuine question of why are you here, but you give a small shrug and she’s enraptured, tracing the sheepish line of your pressed lips.

“Gideon’s snores get a little loud.” You say.

Emily’s surprised to hear her own laugh. It seems you are, too. A small movement draws your brows upward, but the curve of your mouth is distinctly pleased, your eyes brightening beneath the dim lights of the jet. The sound doesn’t last long—it’s low, soft, joined by your own laugh for a few brief seconds—but its effect carries tension from Emily’s shoulders, makes her slip her finger out of her book with a genuine smile.

“That they do,” she murmurs back, already familiar with the loud rumbles that have made their way through thin motel walls, occasionally piercing her already irregular sleep. The sleeves of her cardigan are pulled over her knuckles; she tugs them higher, seeking to cover the ice in her fingertips. 

“Are you cold?”

Maybe she is. Maybe the sound of your voice spills warmth down her veins. Emily doesn’t like admitting things, but her smile gives her away. It borders on shy, barely wide enough for her dimples to curve in her cheeks; she wishes she had a mug of her own to hide behind, but she has an inkling that hiding from you would be pointless.

In the end she shrugs.

You set your mug and sudoku down. “I’ll be right back.” 

She’s left staring at your empty seat, brows furrowing slightly as goosebumps break out on her skin. The jet really is ridiculously cold. And yet when you come back less than a minute later holding out a fuzzy blanket for her to take, she shakes her head.

“Oh, I can’t—”

“Please,” you insist. “I remember I forgot to layer up the first few times on here and I was miserable. Makes you stiff,” your lips twist into a smile, and you’re looking at her so earnestly that she submits.

“It does,” Emily says, this time accepting the blanket. You beam at her and she goes warm, though it has nothing to do with the fuzzy, light gray wool now draping over her lap. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Emily places her book on the table before effectively burying herself in your blanket. It’s warm and soft; when she brings it up over her shoulders, a faint scent of perfume nuzzles against her nose. Yours. In seconds, her hands grow warm. She chances a glance at you, a thank you almost tipping from her lips again—just to continue the conversation, hear your voice, when you do it for her.

“What does that say?” You’re peering at the worn cover of her book. The edges are curled, the spine broken. The margins are full of her loopy scrawl and unsteady underlines, more than a few pages dog eared.

Emily bites back a smile at the curious draw of your brows. “Les Liaisons Dangereuses.” The French slips effortlessly from her lips, smooth and curling. “The Dangerous Liaisons. It’s a French classic, one of my favorites. I could tell you about it,” her hand peeks out from the edge of the blanket and she fidgets with her hair, tucks it behind her ear, “if you’d like.”

You lean your elbows on the table, sudoku very much ignored as you peer at her with something like astonishment. A grin pulls at your lips and she’s suddenly overheating.

“I very much would, Agent Prentiss.”

“Emily.” 

“Emily.” You agree, tilting your head in a nod. “Tell me about Les Liaisons Dangereuses.” You butcher the title beyond belief. The displeased wrinkle of your nose says you know it, and butterflies erupt along Emily’s lungs.

She laughs, the beginnings of a blush staining her cheeks.

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism @catssluvr @i-lovefandom @haiklya @justhereforthosefics @storiesofsvu@ashluvscaterina @basicallyvivi @temilyrights @moonlight-simp 

[molotovmetro]

The 141 + König with a s/o who goes non-verbal

Tiny disclaimer: im autistic and have moments of being non verbal during breakdowns etc, so this is based mostly off of my own experience, but if anyone feels like ive said inaccurate or offensive things, please let me know as that would never be my intention. The way I've written this suggests this is a negative feeling (, since thats how i experience it) but I understand that might not be the same for everyone. For some people this might just be a daily or

Requested by @apocalypticseagull

Warnings: mentions of stress and the slightest hint at possible injury, besides that nothing I can think of

M!reader

Ghost

Ghost relates to you. While he wouldn't claim his experience is the same, he gets moments of overstimulation where he wants everyone to leave him alone, and will just stop reacting to people.

When he feels like this, he prefers to sit in his room, either completely in the dark or with only a small lamp on, and have as little noise around him as possible.

If you're in a stress situation, not knowing what else to do to help you, that's what he'll resort to.

He'll take you into either his room or yours, whichever you would prefer, and holds you while letting you get away from all the triggers for a bit. Unless you're dealing with life or death situations, whatever work you have left for the day can wait. Your wellbeing always comes first.

Soap

Soap is a lot more observant than people give him credit for. He's the king of avoiding stressful situations for you whenever he can.

But alas, he can't avoid it every time. Whether you start saying less and less as the minutes go on, or just stop talking suddenly, he notices immediately.

Not that he'd be quick to admit it, but he's got a written list of everything you like, even if it's just something you mentioned in passing. He absutely will use this list to do whatever he can to make you smile and relieve some of your stress.

He'll make sure to find a way to still communicate that both of you are comfortable with. He'll happily lend you his journal to write in, or he'll ask Roach for some lessons in sign language. He'd break his back bending over backwards to make you comfortable if he had to.

Gaz

No matter how often it happens, Gaz still feels a jolt of panic whenever you don't respond over coms when you're on a mission. He almost sags in relief as soon as he hears you hum, or even just hears the crackly static of you pushing your radio's button.

He knows you're a talented soldier and you're more than capable of handling yourself, he still prefers to be near you at all times. What if something happens and you can't tell him? You could be in trouble without him even knowing. He'll, just knowing you're stressed is making him want to reach for you.

He likes his job, likes helping people and ridding the world of danger, but his favourite part of every mission is when you're sitting in the exfil helo after a good mission, and you give him that wide smile he's been waiting hours, if not days to see.

Price

You and Price have been working together for so long, you both know the drill. When he starts to notice you going quiet, he makes sure he only asks yes or no questions. On your side; one click of your radio button for no, two for yes. Throw in some improvised morse code when necessary, and you've got a solid communications system.

Having this system is also a huge bonus during stealth missions, when he can't talk freely without risking being spotted.

He loves hearing your voice, but he doesn't treat you any differently when you can't talk. He'll support you in whatever way you need, without making it feel like he's babying you.

The two of you are a well oiled machine. No matter how stressful the situation, usually you can tell what the other one is thinking just by looking at them. You know you both have each other's back, verbal communication or not.

König

König doesn't mean to make a big deal out of it, and he won't if you don't, but he does worry.

After a situation like that happens once, he commits everything that helps you to his memory, and uses the knowledge to help you the next time it happens.

Even down to the tiniest detail, he'll remember. If you don't like a certain texture or can only stand a certain flavour of drink during moments like this, he's making sure you have everything you need and are as comfortable as possible. Whatever is stressing you will be dealt with by him while you're resting and calming down.

If you want to be alone, he understands and respects that, and gives you the space you need. But if you don't, there's nowhere he'd rather be than by your side.

[boatboysrowout]

please tell us more about the mall au, specifically etho and his pipe bomb, i need an entire thing of him running from the cops (i am your number one fan ignore that i only just found out about you that doesnt matter)

hey guys. wanna hear about white castle pipe bomb c plot?

this may come as a surprise to some, but etho is a natural at customer service. he’s always been a pretty chill guy- it takes a lot to faze him, probably a consequence of his proclivity towards explosives in his early years. that calm exterior translates well to working the front desk of a local electronics repair store (not that he had needed a summer job, really, but doc and beef both went home for the summer, and someone kept leaving him visa-friendly job applications in every nook and cranny of his dorm- he found one in his cereal a few weeks before finals, and even that one had nothing on the one he found folded up in his toothpaste).

that being said, being good at customer service doesn’t mean that he’s completely immune to the agonies of said customer service. being good at customer service just means that after the eighteenth laptop he has to factory reset while a teenaged boy swears up and down he had not in fact clicked on a link for sexy singles in his area, etho’s able to wait until the boy leaves before attempting to gouge out his other eye.

he’s searching for a screwdriver when his phone buzzes with a text, and after a longing look at his toolbox etho flips his sign to closed and heads over to the white castle. he makes a quick stop at the arcade tango mans to set a new high score on the pinball machine, effectively guaranteeing tango will be glued to the pinball machine until he regains the top leaderboard spot, and then continues on his way to the white castle, spirits high. 

etho’s good mood abruptly vanishes after stepping into the white castle, as bdubs has apparently deemed etho’s delay in arrival unforgivable and is now withholding the free fries etho had been promised.

etho slumps himself over the front counter, not unlike a wet cat, and starts causing a scene, whining about his awful day full of idiot teens and potential self mutilation that can only be staved off with free food. bdubs staunchly ignores him and cleo threatens to pour hot oil on his head.

eventually actual paying customers come in and etho’s continued presence becomes a problem, so bdubs heaves a sigh and offers the fries to etho as long as he pays full price for them, to which etho, an extreme couponer, reacts appropriately.

etho’s eye narrows as he peels himself off of the front counter, demanding the fries free of charge. bdubs refuses. cleo smacks bdubs on the back of the head and tells him to just give etho the fries so he'll go away.

etho gives bdubs one last chance to give him the fries for free, and by the time bdubs physically removes him from the premises etho is already plotting his revenge and heading straight back to the art store to collect a favor.

(you see, somewhere between the fifth and eighth laptop etho had to factory reset, tango texted him that he managed to jailbreak the pinball machine to accept a quarter for unlimited plays, and etho abandoned his job immediately to take advantage of the incredible deal.  

that was his intention, anyway. but what happened is this: etho had never really shaken off the hold explosives have over him. after he’d been put on a five different government watchlists by the time he was seventeen he’d taken a step back and started focusing more on computing and getting into college and other projects that were less likely to necessitate seizure by the canadian government. he’s clean. he left that life behind him.

however. 

when the sound of an explosion comes from the cute little art shop as etho walks past, there’s not a second of hesitation before he swung the front doors open and entered the shop.

it hadn’t taken him long to locate the source of the explosion, following a trail of smoke down a half hidden flight of stairs to a door with a hastily scrawled sign on it reading 'SUPER TALL AND HANDSOME EMPLOYEES ONLY.’

etho opened the door, walking into what has to be the world’s most pathetic meth lab. in the corner there was a stack of cardboard boxes labeled NOT DRUGS/DEFINITELY LEGAL SUBSTANCES. beakers filled with unidentifiable substances were bubbling over onto the table. a laptop near etho’s foot displayed results for a google search of ‘how to tell if a cut needs stitches and also how long can you set yourself on fire without going to hospital.’

“THIS ISN’T WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE.” a man who etho vaguely recognized from grian's beginning of summer introductions had shouted, throwing his body over the contents of the table in a desperate attempt to hide the beakers from view. a few shattered under his weight and etho heard him stifle a whimper. “everything here is perfectly normal and also legal.”

breaking bad played quietly from a tv somewhere in the background.

etho raised an eyebrow.)

in the end, they manage to work out a deal: etho would not call the cops or tell anyone about joel's secret little operation and in return, joel owed etho a favor.

and now etho will cash that favor in.

(“so let me get this straight. you’re pissed your friend wouldn’t give you chips for free and your first instinct is to go to a meth lab and steal my meth supplies to get back at him.”

“failed meth lab. and yup.”

“there’s something wrong with you.”

“at least i know how to make meth.”

“wait, you what.”)

they start small. prank calls, anonymous yelp reviews calling the really loud cashier short, launching fireworks through the drive-thru window. it doesn’t take long for them to get bored with that though, which leads to bdubs walking into the white castle one morning to discover a horse standing in the middle of the lobby. 

the horse seems very at peace with the situation, wandering over to chew on bdub’s hair as he sputters and cleo ignores the situation entirely. bdubs is left with the task of removing the horse from the store, except the horse seems to be taller than the doorway and not particularly interested in leaving, so eventually bdubs is forced to give up. There’s just a horse in their lobby now. 

it doesn’t take bdubs very long to become attached to the horse, much to the detriment of cleo. she’s running the white castle single handedly by the end of the second day, serving customers and manning the kitchen while bdubs whispers sweet nothings to the horse in the makeshift horse stall he made in the women’s restroom. 

it’s pointless to try and reason with bdubs, so cleo makes her way over to the art store basement where joel and etho have set up their base of operations. ignoring the now functioning meth lab, she demands the horse be removed from the premises in exchange for a reasonable one free small fry per week. 

reasonable to cleo, and least. both jeol and etho scoff at her offer and demand at least one large fry per day each, to which cleo laughs in their faces. she doesn’t bother making a counter offer, simply turning on her heel and walking out of the basement. she pauses for a moment at the front of the shop to make sure she hadn’t been followed before grabbing her lighter from her pocket, casually flicking it on and taking a step towards the tissue paper.

by the time joel and etho notice something is amiss the fire department has arrived, and they’re barely able to hide the evidence of their operation before firefighters are breaking down the door, carrying them out through the art shop, entirely engulfed in flames. 

(“so in retrospect, ripping all the smoke detectors out of the ceiling probably wasn’t a great idea on your part.”

“how was i to know i was gonna get into a war with an arsonist, all i wanted to do was mind my own business and make meth!”

“fail at making meth.”

“shut up.”)

now relocated behind the counter at etho’s repair shop, joel and etho prepare their final attack.

the plan is simple: using supplies salvaged from the meth lab, etho will construct a smoke bomb and throw it through the white castle drive through window while joel takes advantage of the distraction and steals all the fries the white castle possesses.

making the smoke bomb is a piece of cake, and when joel isn't looking etho sneaks a few of his own more... volatile substances into his backpack. just in case.

joel enters the white castle and cleo immediately clocks him due to joel being the most suspicious person alive always, but she cannot be arsed to investigate. it’s been a long fucking week. joel knows what will happen if he messes with her.

bdubs, however, feels an impending sense of doom through his Etho Senses and rushes over to the drive-thru window and whips it open, immediately screaming at the sight of etho across the road winding up his arm with a smoke bomb in his hand.

and that’s when things really start to go wrong.

because here’s the thing: etho’s been missing an eye for most of his life. he knows his depth perception is shit. but he’s so caught up in the adrenaline of the moment, and bdubs screaming isn’t exactly helping him focus, and listen the baseball scene in canada isn’t exactly thriving-

all of this is to say that etho activates the smoke bomb, winds up, and promptly chucks it five feet to the left of the drive through window. it bounces off the side of the building and rolls to a stop against the tire of the car that had been pulling up to order.

several things happen in very quick succession:

1. the smoke bomb begins pouring out smoke, completely obscuring etho from view and flooding into the white castle

2. bdubs attempts to continue screaming but immediately regrets it as copious amounts of smoke invade his lungs

3. the car which had previously been pulling up to the drive through attempts to exit the scene as quickly as possible, but due to the aforementioned copious amounts of smoke misjudges where the road turns and makes a hard left directly into the wall of the white castle

the very same wall where bdubs had leashed his horse mere minutes before, and the very same wall joel had been creeping along.

the horse and joel are immediately flattened, and upon seeing this bdubs’ impassioned screaming reaches pitches previously unknown to man, and all hell breaks loose.

cleo starts cackling and arms herself with a makeshift flamethrower thrown together with hairspray and a personalized lighter. bdubs attempts to leap out of the drive-thu window but his foot gets stuck and he falls out of the building, crumpling to the ground in a still screaming heap before scrambling back up through the drive-thru window and into the fray. joel manages to claw his way out of the rubble, finds himself face to face with cleo and her flamethrower, and has half a second to regret the his and hers shrek mugs that trapped him in this stupid country before he’s running for his life. 

etho himself ends up sitting peacefully on the bench outside the white castle entrance, his mask helpfully filtering out most of the smoke. it’s lucky he grabbed some extra materials from joel’s lab really, he knew bdubs wouldn’t hand over the fries without a fight. 

he’s in the middle of assembling a device that’ll definitely get him put on the american government’s watchlist and ignoring the screams coming from inside when two men rush past him into the white castle, shouting something about justice and burgers. etho waits for a second, and almost immediately they come rushing back out. he waves at their retreating figures, one of whom he’s pretty sure is the theater kid that tried to put on a one man show of macbeth during welcome week.

etho wraps the fuse around his pipe bomb and stands up, brushing the debris off of his pants and strolling into the fray.

he finds bdubs almost immediately, the man standing on the counter and clearly audible even over the fire alarms and incessant swearing from joel and cleo, who now both have improvised flamethrowers and are duking it out in the kids play area. despite the smoke bduds and etho lock eyes instantly, bdubs paling a few shades when he sees what etho has in his hand.

bdubs jumps off the counter and attempts to run to etho, but is cut off by an entirely engulfed in flames joel. it seems that bdubs did not learn a single lesson about the flammability of his hair product from his run in with grian at the beginning of the summer, because his hair bursts into flames after the slightest brush from joel, and this time cleo isn’t standing nearby with a fire extinguisher.

it should be noted that most of the white castle is entirely engulfed in flames at this point. etho’s at the center of it all, cradling his pipe bomb like a baby and searching furiously for his promised free french fries. 

he’s stopped by cleo who meets his eyes, smiles wide, and lights the pipe bomb fuse. 

-

etho and cleo stare at the wreckage of the white castle. look at each other. look back at the rubble.

the sirens in the distance are distinctly closer now, and both etho and cleo abruptly realize how much evidence is contained on their person. 

“joel’s probably fine.” cleo says. “i saw him run into the walk in freezer after i burnt away the last of his clothes and hair.”

etho nods. “bdubs is too short to get crushed by rubble.”

cleo hums agreement. they stand side by side for a moment longer before cleo turns to etho.

“well, i won’t tell if you won’t.”

with that she turns on her heel and walks away. etho sticks around for a few more minutes, watching the flames die down and the last of the white castle crumble. he digs around in his pocket for a moment and pulls out a blackened handful of fries, yanking his mask down to shove them in his mouth as emergency services skid into the parking lot. 

sticking around turns out to be a mistake, etho quickly realizes, as his white hair reflects the light from the police cars and catches the attention of every officer there. he takes off at a sprint, pulling his mask back up and booking it straight into moving traffic, dodging cars and leaving the yells of the police officers and the rubble behind him.

and that’s the last anyone sees of etho that summer.

(og link here!)

[carlyraejepsans]

I’m wording this ask so terribly sorry.

So you know sans like the back of your hand and can pinpoint inaccurate portrayals of him but is it like that for the other members of the main cast too? Are there any characters you don’t really get in that way?

the funny thing is, as much as people think of me as a sans understander, the other members of the cast being more self-contained and confined to the narrative makes them a lot easier to puzzle out and put into context. undyne, alphys, asgore, toriel and flowey specifically. their roles are so crucial and defined by undertale's story that they almost work like the gears of a well oiled machine. not only are they characters in and of themselves, but with their backgrounds being available to the player and not left to speculation, every aspect of their personality become integral to What Happens In The Story as well.

when you take sans, on the other hand, his character is still so shrouded in lore and mystery that i do NOT doubt i'm also getting a fair bit of him wrong. he's an unknowable motherfucker. i can study his voice, what we know of him, and draw patterns in his behavior all i want, but at the end of the day there's still a good chunk of context to his character that is necessarily left to speculation. of course, we do have a LOT of lore for his character, and what that lore says seems... pretty direct, at least in terms of character goals and personality (he lost some people/somewhere important to him, he tried so hard to go home, he failed. he knows about the anomaly and it basically caused an existential crisis, however his first instinct was still to empathize with it. he takes everything life throws at him in stride because he doesn't believe in a happy ending anymore. he'll hold onto anything that proves him wrong)

you know who doesn't give you anything at all though?

FUCKING. PAPYRUS.

i do NOT get that guy. honest to god. sure, i can analyze his voice all the same, his personality and actions within the story, but papyrus is just as much of a lore mystery as his brother. with papyrus though? we get NOTHING. nada! he has the most lines out of any character and they tell you nothing about him. worse than that, what little info we get about sans' life "before" has almost no repercussions on papyrus whatsoever. homesickness who? scientific background who? knowledge of the anomaly who? sure, he's surprisingly strong and really passionate about puzzle construction. you can read into those aspects, but it's not anything that ties into any of sans' deal. which makes no sense because they're brothers, they got here together! why isn't sans' obvious baggage over his past something that connects them? at this point the only thing that makes sense to me is him being an amnesiac. which ig could tie into the whole "don't forget" motif. idfk man.

but like. that being said i can still more or less track the way he behaves around the other characters, the way he relates to them, his conflicts within undertale's main story etc. that's normal story analysis and pattern recognition. he's just... a bit trickier to puzzle out than the rest of the cast. goddamn him.

[thewulf]

Wild Child || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: The four times Jake catches you in precarious situation plus the one time you catch him in one.

A/N: A request from a friend.: I’m sooooo sorry if your name is Heidi (You’ll see why). Really unedited but I wanted to get you guys something out. Please enjoy!

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Y/N

Word Count: 6,200+

The First Incident

A wild child is how your family always described you. You liked ‘free spirit’ better. Wild child made you sound unhinged. You didn’t like to consider yourself unhinged per say but you couldn’t stand to be tied down to anything. One minute you were a white-water rafting instructor at the Grand Canyon, the next you’re teaching people how to paraglide in the Alps. You craved adventure. Loved it more than anything in the world.

The thought of a corporate job holding you down made you gag, literally. You knew this lifestyle wasn’t maintainable per say but you just couldn’t seem to give a damn. You let the wind blow you to your next opportunity. That’s how you ended up in San Diego as a water sports instructor. You’d been working as a ski school coach in Colorado when you got word help was needed on the West Coast. You approached the guy who needed help and the rest was history. You were on a plane to San Diego the next day with a job running the little shack on the beach.

You loved it. It might’ve been your favorite job to date. You got to hang out in the sun all day and rent Jet Ski’s, paddle boards and kayak’s to people. Your favorite days were the ones you got to do jet ski tours on. You’d spend endless hours on the open ocean having the time of your life. Your least favorite days were the ones when you had to do maintenance on all the equipment. Usually, Doug or Jim your coworkers would take on changing the oil out on the jet ski’s but naturally they were both off when one needed to be done.

It didn’t take long before you found yourself in a less than ideal situation. You’d forgotten to put the oil cap back on before cranking the engine on. Well, the entire contents of oil you just dumped in the chamber was now all over your face and clothing, the engine spitting it back at you.

“Fuck!” You cried jumping back away from the machine. Ripping off the safety glasses you used your hands and clothing to try and get the oil off your face. Without much success you paused trying to assess the situation.

You realized you had two options. Jump in the freezing ass Ocean or run into Penny’s place. Deciding on the latter option you pulled your shirt off leaving you in your bathing suit. Luckily, most of the oil was on your shirt avoiding the rest of your body.

It was only five so the bar had just opened, “Penny!” You called loudly for the woman as you walked into the Hard Deck.

“Y/N!” She called back before turning to you. When she did her face displayed every emotion. Her smiley face turned to shock as she took in your oily black appearance. Then it turned to confusion as she took in your entire appearance. You must’ve looked like a horror story walking into her bar. No shoes, no shirt and certainly a problem.

“The damn jet ski blew up on me. Marty’s cheap ass won’t upgrade them. It’s certainly nothing that I did!” Crossing your hands over your chest with a pout on your face making your way over to a bar stool you gave her an overly exasperated look.

The last and final emotion that crossed her face was with hilarity. She couldn’t stop laughing once she realized it was more than likely a self-inflicted casualty, “Did it now?”

Nodding your head, you gratefully accepted the rag from her. Beginning to wipe away some more of the oil from your face you heard some commotion from the front door.

“Penny!” A male voice you hadn’t recognized rang through the bar just as yours had seconds prior.

Her brows stitched together in confusion as she had just seen that same scene play out with you not a moment before, “Jake!” She replied, just the same as she had with you. Spinning around in the bar stool you were thankful the rag was covering your mouth because you were sure it would have dropped right then and there. The most devilishly handsome military man just walked through Penny’s doors, and you had your eyes set right on him.

He too, had his eyes set right on you but you had a sneaking suspicion it was from the engine oil that caked your face and upper body, “You have a little something here.” Jake pointed to his forehead giving you a cheeky smirk.

“Oh, thanks.” You rolled your eyes, “So helpful.” Dramatically you took the damp rag wiping your forehead free of motor oil, “Did I get it?” You quipped back.

He nodded smiling, enjoying how much of an attitude you already had with him. It made the game way more fun when they didn’t get off on the right foot, “You got it.” He nodded his head down, “Jake Seresin. Don’t think we’ve met.” The stupid cheeky grin never left his face. Only growing wider when he saw your irritated expression grow.

Quickly, you ran your hand along the other side of your face making sure to coat your hand in oil before accepting the handshake. His grin broke out into a full smile seeing your play. A low chuckle reverberated from his body as your hand coated his in oil, “Sorry, I thought you said I got it?” Giving him a wink, you snatched your hand back from his grip. Easy to do since they were both coated in the slippery liquid.

He tipped his head in your direction, “Fair play ma’am.”

“That’s all I do, Mr. Seresin.” Taking the rag, you fully wiped off your face. You knew your hair was coated but opted to throw it up in a bun until you’d be able to shower it off. Penny gave you a new clean one while she handed Jake a napkin after seeing the exchange between the two of you.

“Did you need something Jake?” Penny interrupted the two young adults who were seemingly very into each other. Penny could tell. She always could. It didn’t help that she hardly knew either of you. You’d just started at the shack two weeks ago, only occasionally crossing paths. You worked early and she worked late.

“I did.” He nodded looking back at you, “But for some odd reason, I can’t remember what that was.” He threw you a wink taking a seat next to you.

You wanted to roll your eyes, but something drew you into him. Like you wanted to know just a little bit more, “Cheesy.”

“She doesn’t like cheesy, noted.” Jake leaned back looking you over. He’d noticed you were just in your swimsuit, not really mad about it.

“Well, I didn’t say that did I?”

He took the beer Penny had poured from him, “Noted.”

The Second Incident

“No, no, no!” You yelled out while you running around the beach trying to collect the umbrellas that got pulled up by the rather strong gust of wind. You’d gotten three before the fourth got caught in another gust and took off.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You sighed before jogging along the water hoping to catch it before it went out into the ocean. You loved this job, but you didn’t love it that much to go swimming for it.

To your delight the blonde boy from the bar caught it before you did. Coming out of nowhere he grabbed the end of it before quickly closing it. After catching up to him you took the awkwardly large umbrella from his hands, “My hero! Thank you. Might’ve saved my job.”

He smiled back at you almost immediately, enthralled you were chatting with him so easily. It wasn’t that often he came across a woman that could hold her own with him. Natasha being one of the rare few. He had a feeling you were just like her with your quick remarks and witty comebacks, “You’re welcome…You never told me your name.” He frowned looking at you expectedly.

“I didn’t?”

He shook his head, “No ma’am.”

“Hmm.” You began to walk away knowing he’d follow right after you. You were oddly good at this game. Truth be told you hadn’t a clue where your confidence came from. Even with men as attractive as Jake you knew how to wind them up and get them to do your bidding. A unique skill not only reserved for the men. You mom always said you’d make for a great politician because you were a master at manipulating people to do what you needed them to do. She always made it sound cooler than it was. But you sure did use that skill to your advantage in these situations.

“Aren’t you going to tell me?” He caught up to you with ease. Your smaller frame and the gigantic umbrella slowed you down.

“Now, what’s the fun in that?” You gave him a wide grin already seeming to know how to reel him right into you.

He paused for a moment before making his way back to you, “I’ll go ask Penny.”

“Go for it. That’s cheating but it’s fine.” You knew military men had a weird thing with cheating so again, you used it against him.

“That’s not cheating!” He took the umbrella from you, tired of seeing you struggle with it while he knew he could carry it so easily.

“Thanks,” You smiled up at him before heading back to the shack. A nasty storm appeared to be rolling in that wasn’t on the radar that morning. You wouldn’t have set out the umbrellas had you known it would be coming in so quickly, “But it so is cheating!” You couldn’t drop it either.

“In what world?”

You shrugged, “Mine.”

“Fine.” He nodded his head placing the umbrella down in the shack, “What’s it going to take for me to get your name?”

Returning the smile while tapping your finger on your chin you answered him, “I don’t know yet Jake.”

Slumping over slightly he looked a tad defeated, “Well this is impossible.”

“Giving up already Mr. Seresin?” You challenged him. Another thing you knew military men loved, a good challenge.

Shaking his head vigorously he turned the frowned back into that charming smile you already loved, “No, didn’t say that did I?”

Shaking your head, you could only answer, “Fair play military boy.”

“Navy.” He corrected you. Not that you were wrong per say but you weren’t specific enough.

“Navy boy.” You nodded at him, as a touché, “What do you do for the Navy anyway?” You wanted the conversation to continue. Jake intrigued you. Not many people did. You’d come across all sorts of fascinating and downright boring people as you traversed the world. But few captured your attention longer than a few hours.

“If I answer, will you give me your name?”

Shrugging you answered, “Maybe.” You respected the little game he was playing. It was fun. Fun intrigued you. Fun kept you engaged with him.

“I’m a pilot.”

“Ohh, you get to fly fast planes?” He’d really got you now. Planes had always fascinated you. You loved adventure more than anything in the world, but planes always seemed to be off limits, especially fast ones.

“Something like that. We call them jets.”

You nodded along enthralled by the admission, “That’s really cool Jake.” It was a high compliment from you and Jake knew it. He knew he intrigued you as much as you intrigued him. You wouldn’t have tolerated his presence if you felt otherwise. Something he picked up on quickly, you spoke your mind and you weren’t afraid who heard. A rare quality he rarely saw in people.

“It is. I love it.” His smile softened for the first time around you. You noticed how the cheeky grin downturned ever so slightly into a more genuine smile. One you knew that likely didn’t come around often.

“Y/N. That’s my name.”

“Y/N.” He repeated back, “That’s beautiful.”

“You should tell that to my mother. My dad wanted to name me Heidi. She saved me from that childhood torture. Bless that woman.” Smiling you leaned back against the shack.

Jake smiled a bit wider taking in the small bits of information you were willing to share about yourself. He had a feeling you were a closed book masking being an open one. He understood, he was the same way. An extroverted persona on the outside and a hidden softer side that only came out around people that wee trusted. There was nothing wrong with this per say it was just exhausting. Having to put a wall up 24/7 wasn’t something you particularly enjoyed.

“Maybe one day I’ll get the chance to Y/N.”

You giggled. A sound you hadn’t heard in so long. The last time you felt this stupidly giddy from a boy’s comment was ages ago, back in college when you were tied down, “Maybe Mr. Seresin. Just maybe.”

The Third Incident

The day was brutal. The sun beamed down at you all morning and afternoon. You could hardly sit in the shade because almost all of your equipment was rented out. It wasn’t a bad thing. You were raking in tips. But it made for a long and exhausting day. That paired with no air conditioning made you feel like you were starting to go a little crazy.

So, when you turned over the key in your vehicle and it didn’t start you all but lost it. You let yourself yell once and shed a tear out of frustration before heading into Penny’s place. Lucky for you she opened up a bit earlier on the weekends to attract more customers from the beach who wanted to day drink.

You spotted the woman quickly before making a beeline straight towards her, “Penny, please tell me your mechanic of a boyfriend is around.”

She frowned, “No, he’s out of town. What’s up?”

“Damn.” You sighed taking a seat at the nearly empty bar. You hadn’t seen Jake and his Navy buddies sitting in the back as you made your way straight to the bar. But he saw you. He always noticed you. The simple chats started turning deeper as both of you tip toed around what you both wanted but neither wanted to admit, “This one’s going to cost me. Car won’t start. Hopefully it’s just the starter or the battery.”

Both of you were terribly afraid of commitment for one reason or another. But sometimes that spark that you find can’t be put out. The flame couldn’t be diminished. It needed to be explored. The spark was slowly growing into a flame and neither of you wanted to extinguish it but neither brave enough to let it grow. To let the flame, turn into a fire. For that meant commitment. And commitment was terrifying.

It made sense for Jake. He was always on the move. Always going from one base to the next. Early in his career he would try but it got too hard. It was hard to fall for someone and then have to move because he was reassigned to a new base. It was way easier being an asshole who was there for the hookup than commit to someone. But it was different now. He’d completed all his goals. Done what he wanted to accomplish as a pilot. If he ever wanted to be an admiral, he needed to clean up his act and excel as an instructor at Top Gun. Show Naval leadership he was meant to be a leader too.

It made sense for you too. You were in an amazing relationship throughout college. You’d met a boy early on in your freshman year and stayed with him through your senior year. He’d even proposed. But then he got sick. The sickness took him away from you. So, you ran. Your wild child was let out. You couldn’t be tied down again. You couldn’t go through that again.

“Oh, shoot. I’m sorry Y/N. How about a beer on the house?” She smiled as sweetly as she could. She knew how shitty the feeling was. Unreliable vehicles were the worst. Lucky for you it wasn’t a far walk home worst come to worst. The only downfall of the lifestyle was never having enough money. A tow was certainly out of budget. It needed to be fixed in the lot. You’d figure it out. You always did.

Sighing and lifting your head from the bar top you gave her a thumbs up, “Thanks Penny.”

Her eyes widened spotting the blonde pilot making his way over to you. Penny was many things, but she wasn’t dumb. She certainly wasn’t blind. She didn’t know Jake well, but she’d heard about him. Heard all the rumors of the fuck boy that he supposedly was. She’d yet to see it. Over the last few weeks, he’d had nothing but eyes for you.

Penny had also gotten to know you a whole hell of a lot better as you spent the last bit of your day here all too often now. There were usually hardly any customers and Penny lent the best conversation you’ve come across in San Diego. So, you started coming to the Hard Deck every day after work. She realized quickly that you were damn near oblivious to Jake’s feelings. Always flirting back but never agreeing with Penny about his intentions.

“Why the long face, sweetheart?” Jake had begun using those sweet terms of endearment a few days ago. Finally finding the courage to make his feelings a little more obviously known. But of course, you hadn’t a clue. It didn’t mean anything for you. Your way of deflecting, naturally.

“Jake, hey.” You straightened up a bit, “Car won’t start.”

He frowned, “That’s no good. Let me take a look.”

Your eyes peaked up in curiosity, “You know cars?”

“I know jets. How different can cars really be?”

Laughing you nodded, “I’m pretty sure they’re really different actually.”

“You have no faith in me darling.”

“Oh, have at it. Just don’t break it any further.” You smiled taking a sip of the beer. He stood for the stool waiting for you.

Giving him a quizzical look, he continued, “After you.”

“You were being serious?” You set the glass down. It wasn’t very often that people went out their way to help you. That was another problem with the nomadic lifestyle you’d become accustom too.

“As a heart attack. I’ve got some tools in my truck. I can figure it out.”

Hopping down from the stool you gave Penny a wave. She gave you a knowing head shake waving you off. Leading Jake to your car you popped the hood to give him a look.

“Can you turn it over?” He asked. Giving him a nod, you tried to start the engine only to be met with silence, “Just a dead battery. Let me go get my truck for a jump start.”

Another few moments and a jump start later you were met with a started vehicle. Jake parked the truck next to yours. Getting out you were too afraid to turn it off before driving to a car shop to swap out the battery.

“This time you’re my Knight in Shining Armour.” You gleamed up at him as he made his way to the driver’s side of your vehicle.

“I’m honored, really.”

“Thanks, fly boy. I gotta go get a new battery now.”

“Fly boy?” He smirked.

“Mhmm, heard you and your friends talking the other day. The girl said it and it stuck. I like it. Fly boy.”

He opened your car door, “Then you can call me fly boy. If you like it.”

“Didn’t know I needed your permission.” Again, you challenged him. You always seemed to challenge him. Making him second guess that smoothness that always seemed to work. Not on you though. You got the better of him all too often now.

The Fourth Incident

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You grumbled taking a seat in front of the knotted mess before you. You’d let the boys take the parasail up only for them to come back to you with a sheepish grin on their faces and a very tangled parasail before them.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” Doug, usually your favorite co-worker replied seeing your very annoyed expression.

“It’s fine… just go help the customers. This is going to take me a while.” You let out a frustrated groan. At least it was a mindless task.

“Yeah, okay.” He nodded and quickly left, not wanting to get another earful from you.

“They certainly don’t make this job easy.” You sighed leaning back against the shack. You didn’t have a particular talent for untangling things, but you knew the boys certainly didn’t have the patience to even try. So here you were stuck with a loopy mess of ropes and cables.

“You always talk to yourself?” That now-familiar voice of the blonde pilot spoke out startling you from your focus.

Jumping slightly, you slapped his ankle, “You always stalk me?”

“I do not.” He scoffed sliding down the wall to sit down right next to you. He was close but neither of you made the effort to move farther apart.  Not even a little. He let his thigh rest against your bare one. It was a hot one, so you were without shorts, just bathing suit bottoms. He was testing your boundaries and you were more than happy to welcome him right on in.

“I didn’t say I was complaining about it.” You quipped back.

You earned a hearty laugh from him. A sound you’d learned to cherish over the blossoming friendship you wished would turn something more, “You never cease to surprise me Y/N.”

“Hopefully that’s a good thing.” You grinned up at him momentarily forgetting about the mess laid before you.

“It’s a great thing.” He answered quickly not wanting to place doubt into your head, “You’re incredible. You know that right?”

Heart stuttering you snapped your head back up to him. What was he saying? What was he trying to imply? Was he trying to get you all sorts of flustered because it was certainly working. You’d always been awkward when receiving compliments so when Jake threw that one at you it made you want to disappear right then and there.

“If you think so.” You nodded your head gingerly making sure to focus your attention on the rope and not the gazing eyes of the man you’ve been crushing on a little too hard.

He took your hand in his, “I know so. You’re beyond fascinating. Every time I get to know a little bit more about you, I’m infinitely more intrigued by you. Rooster called me out on it, said I never seemed to shut up about you.” He admitted. He wasn’t all too sure why he was telling you this. It was easy with you. He wanted to tell you things. Things he’d never dream of sharing with a girl before. But with you it felt so natural. So effortless.

It wasn’t often somebody could make you blush, but Jake was doing an exquisite job of it. A fiery blaze crested up your neck settling on your cheeks. Thankful it was warm out you could just blame it on the sun, “Rooster?” You questioned. You’d yet to meet any of his friends but that didn’t seem like a terribly common name.

“Bradley. The one with the stash. It’s a call sign. We all have one.” He smiled knowing just how odd it sounded when he said it out loud.

“What’s yours?” You asked wanting the conversation to go on. He too intrigued you. You seemed to get lost in conversation whenever you ran into him. It too felt natural with him. Like two puzzle pieces just waiting to be linked together.

“Hangman.”

You smiled wondering where in the hell that could’ve come from, “That’s an interesting call sign.”

“You think?” His eyes stitched together in curiosity.

“For sure. I wonder what mine would be? I’m not cool enough though. I’d never make it.” You admitted to him looking away afraid you’ve overstepped.

He studied you up and down as if trying to come up with one on the spot. Not a second later he responded with one, almost as if he’d thought it through before, “I’d call you Bird.”

“Bird?” You grinned curious as to why.

“You’re a free spirit. Like a bird. Floating through the air making it look effortless even though you’re working harder than ever. You have a certain ease to you that makes you so free.” He paused collecting his thoughts, “And you’d make it just fine. You’re more levelheaded than half the guys I train on a regular basis.”

“Oh, that’s frightening Jake. I’m not even that levelheaded!” You laughed feeling a bit concerned over the state of who was employed by the Navy.

“I know.” He winked at you letting his leg full press into yours. The closeness let goosebumps ripple down your legs sending a shiver over your body. It frightened you how easily he affected you both mentally and clearly physically, “It’s terrifying who they let fly those things huh?” He laughed taking a cable in hand beginning to help you.

“Suppose you have to be some level of crazy, eh?” You giggled picking up another cord after untangling the first.

“You bet sweetheart.” He turned his body more towards you, pressing his thigh further into yours. You were sure you were about to explode from the contact. Hopefully it didn’t look like it. You had to play this cool. You’ve been doing so damn good over the last few weeks. But he was making it hard, very hard, “So.” He continued before pausing again giving you a look as he picked up another tangled cable.

“So.” You responded by looking back at him. He was giving you a look you had yet to see from him just yet. Almost nervous?

“Where are you off to next? Doesn’t seem like you stay in one place for too long.”

You shrugged, “I’ll be honest. I don’t have a clue. I like it here though. Usually something just falls into my lap taking me onto the next thing…” You smiled reminiscing through some memories before continuing, “But like I said. I like it here. The weather is amazing, and the people are even better.”

You really hadn’t thought about moving on. Not yet at least. It felt like you’d finally gotten into a rhythm here. Normally that’d terrify you. But it felt so damn right here. Like something was begging you to stay. That something might have been sitting there in front of you. Even if you’ve only been here a few months and known him less than that it still felt right. If there was one thing you always did was trust your gut and it was telling you to stay. Screaming at you to stay. It was a foreign feeling for you, but you welcomed it. The nomadic lifestyle was utterly exhausting and somewhat lonely. You were ready for change as you approached your thirtieth year.

He cracked another smile at your last statement, “Yeah? Even better than the Swiss?”

“Mhmm.” You nodded looking up to him again. You could’ve melted right then in there if humans could. The look he was giving you could make a strong man weak, “Way better than the Swiss. Much cuter too.” You chimed in making sure he knew you were talking about him.

“High praise.” He smirked leaning his whole body just a bit closer. You’d usually protest as it was so fucking hot out but this was a dream for you. Jake was practically on top of you this time. It must have looked funny from a distance. Two sweaty young people lost in each other’s eyes almost on top of each other on the beach.

“It’s only the truth.” Your face was so close to his. God you’d give anything to just kiss him. But you wouldn’t dream of making that move. That’s far too bold even for you. And what if he didn’t want it? You’d never be able to live down that kind of embarrassment.

“Y/N?” He asked.

“Yeah?”

“I’m planning on staying for a little while too. I’m tired of jumping base to base. I just want to stay somewhere for a while you know?”

“It’s tiring.” You agreed with him, “I get it.”

“Would you stay here?”

You nodded your head vigorously, “I would. For the right reasons.”

Licking his lips while looking at yours he mimicked your head nod, “Good to know.”

The Fifth Incident

Standing waist deep in the ocean you wanted to be annoyed but the man standing in front of you was making that very difficult to do so. His cute little grin and snickers only made you laugh along with him, “Which one’s the gas again?” Jake asked leaning back on the jet ski you were trying to get him to take out.

“Right hand is the throttle, for the fourth time Mr. Seresin.” Playfully rolling your eyes you walked around the jet ski to do the final checks ensuring it was up to snuff before he took it out on the ocean.

Grinning from ear to ear he knew he had you. He had you wrapped around his pinky finger. Not that he was any different. You had him whipped and you weren’t even dating yet. Instead, the two of you were dancing around deeper emotions every time you saw one another. And the two of you sure did see each other as often as possible. After he helped you untangle the mess that was the parasail the two of you made it a point to see each other every day. He’d come find you while you were wrapping up work or you’d meet him at the Hard Deck.

You’d even gone so far as to meet a few of his Navy friends, at his request. Being far too nervous and not having a clue what the relationship was with the blonde pilot you were nervous to meet them. He wouldn’t take no for an answer though, bringing them to you instead.

As unshy as you were with your opinions it was becoming harder and harder to have the ‘what are we?’ conversation with him. You were having far too much fun in this stage that you didn’t want to ruin it. You started to have legitimate feelings for the flighty boy. It terrified you a bit. The last time you allowed yourself to feel things it ended horribly.

But even you had to admit you were exhausted of running. Running from feeling things. Afraid to commit to somebody. Afraid to tie yourself down.

“Thank you, Miss Y/L/N.,” Wiggling his eyebrows he leaned over towards you as you finished up the pre-op checklist.

“You’re welcome, Hangman.” This time you were smirking, loving to throw him off his game whenever you could. Initially refusing to use the call sign you decided to only throw it out there when you felt like you needed to one up him.

Eyes raised in curiosity he broke out into a grin seeing your expression. He’d never felt like this before. Felt so effortlessly comfortable around somebody. Like he knew you’d never judge him for a thing. You’d be there for him no questions asked. The two of you just clicking like nothing he’d ever experienced in his lifetime. He had to admit it terrified him a bit. But he was also excited. To try something new. To dive into a relationship with you headfirst. So long as that’s what you wanted. That’s why he was playing it so cool. He knew how much of a flight risk you were if he moved to fast. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you before he even had the chance to try it out. So, he decided to let you get comfortable and hopefully make a move. If you were too afraid to do so he’d do it eventually. He had nothing but time with you though. So, he wasn’t going to rush it. Terrified to mess it up before it started.

“So how long do I get out there darling?” He was testing your boundaries now. Wanting to see how you’d react.

Your heart rapidly picked up pace hearing that term of endearment escape his lips knowing that you could really get used to hearing it, “Thirty minutes. Then I have paying customers booked. So don’t be late.” You eyed him making sure he got your message loud and clear. He’d been begging you to go on one, but you’ve quite literally been booked out. Busy season was mad. But you had a customer cancel on you last minute which gave Jake the opportunity.

“Got it. See you soon pretty.” He shot you a wink before speeding off. Making sure to splash you with the throttle. Flipping him off you rung your hair out as you walked out of the ocean.

You’d only noticed he’d been gone for a little too long when the next clients walked up. You searched the ocean spotting Jake drifting a little bit further out than he should’ve been. Hopping on the reserved Jet Ski for staff you took off in his direction.

“What the hell Jake? I said thirty minutes.” You frowned at him pulling up beside his weirdly quiet one.

“I would’ve darling but well, it died on me.”

“Hop on.” You sighed annoyed the stupid thing gave out on you. It always reminded you of how cheap the dude who ran this place was.

You hooked the tow line up to it, getting good at it now, before towing everything in, “Looks like you caught me at a bad time.” You felt him chuckle as he pressed his chest into your back. Taking full advantage of being the passenger. You were thankful you couldn’t see his shirtless chest, that’d surely send you over the edge now.

“At least it’s you this time.” You laughed along with him. You felt as his arms tightened around your waist. Pulling him all that much closer to you.

Much to your chagrin you reached the beach before you knew it. Jake waited around as you got the family off on their adventure. Approaching him with a grin on your face you sat next to him at the picnic table by the shack, “Have fun at least?” You asked.

“Absolutely. Any time I get to spend with you is a good time.”

Pushing his side lightly you hid your gaze away from him, “Cheesy.”

“Only for you.” He snaked his arm around your waist. Not forcing you to look up to him but letting you know he had you.

Another goofy grin graced your features. He always knew what to say, “You’re sweet to me Jake.”

He nodded, “Because I like you. A lot. You know that right?” He admitted straight out. He let you go at your own pace, but he wanted you to know now. He knew. He adored you. He’d never felt this type of way with anybody before you. He thought he had but he realized he hadn’t. This was something special.

“You do?” Confusion then joy broke out from your face

“I do.” His smile turned up even further seeing the recognition cross your face. Had you really not known? Or were you in your own head like he had been so many times before?

“Like more than friends like?” You asked to confirm.

“Way more than friends.”

“Oh, wow.” You turned away heart racing. Sure, your face was as bright as a cherry tomato it was now or never. He’d laid it all out on the line for you. You could do it.

“Hopefully that’s a good wow.” Smirking he leaned a little closer to you.

It felt like your heart stopped for a moment, “It’s a very good wow.”

“Yeah? Then you’ll let me take you on a date?” Jake didn’t often look nervous, but he looked terrified now. He hadn’t expected this. Not even in the slightest. But he’d roll with it.

“You’d want to?” You returned your eyes back to his.

“Oh darling, I’d love to.” He reassured you taking your hand in his.

“Then I say yes.”

“Tomorrow?”

“You that excited?” You teased him.

“Sweetheart, I’m more than excited. Whatever that is.” Tossing you a wink he stood from his seat, “I’ll pick you up at six. Can’t wait to see you pretty.”

[baldursgat3]

i cannot stare at this document any longer it's 5.1k words, here she is, per request of @thisisew

cw for major character death (kind of) and ascended astarion and durge being Generally Kind Of Fucked Up I don't think anything is excessive but they're not good people

He adored having you at his side - his precious little attack dog. He soothed your bloodlust, sating it as often as he could. There was no shortage of those who wanted to get in the way of his plans for the city of Baldur's Gate. He was happy to let you curb your hunger for violence on his political rivals.  Every so often though, things required a more thoughtful touch. He could just send you out with a name and a vague description and you'd be off like a shot. A few days later they would find a mangled corpse and blame it on the cult of Bhaal that still lingered beneath the city.  No, someone like this, someone this important needed a special touch. You deserved time to plan this one, to savor it. Part of him wished he could go with you to watch but he knew staying away was the easiest way to keep his hands clean. He knew you were more than capable of carrying out horrors all on your own.

Things couldn't have been more perfect. After surviving nearly two centuries of a living nightmare, Astarion felt he deserved nothing less than perfection. He had suffered so long, worked so hard, he had earned this.

He stood on a balcony of the former palace Szarr, basking in the sunlight that poured over the city - his city. He had killed the local vampire lord, freed the city from the clutches of a tyrannical bastard, and rescued the universe from the devastating power of the Nether Brain. He had everything he wanted and he was adored.

More than power, fame, or freedom, one obsession had gripped his heart in a way nothing ever had before. His dearest treasure, Chosen of Bhaal. You had sunk your claws into the very essence of his being. He needed you, craved you, claimed you.

The two of you worked in tandem, like a well oiled machine. His silver tongue and nimble fingers meant he could get most things he wanted. What he couldn't get his way could, more often than not, be solved your way.

He adored having you at his side - his precious little attack dog. He soothed your bloodlust, sating it as often as he could. There was no shortage of those who wanted to get in the way of his plans for the city of Baldur's Gate. He was happy to let you curb your hunger for violence on his political rivals.

Every so often though, things required a more thoughtful touch. He could just send you out with a name and a vague description and you'd be off like a shot. A few days later they would find a mangled corpse and blame it on the cult of Bhaal that still lingered beneath the city.

No, someone like this though, someone this important needed a special touch. You deserved time to plan this one, to savor it. Part of him wished he could go with you to watch but he knew staying away was the easiest way to keep his hands clean. He knew you were more than capable of carrying out horrors all on your own.

He couldn't wait to tell you about your next target, it had really been such a long time coming. He was sure you'd be thrilled and he couldn't wait to see the sparkle in your eyes. Surely you were around here somewhere, he just had to find you.

Astarion turned on his heel, striding calmly back inside to search for his little love. It hardly even surprised him this time as he suddenly found himself with a dagger against his throat as soon as he had stepped out of the light.

"Darling, we really must work on your greetings." He purred, tipping his head back to glance at you

Your other hand wrapped around him to cup his jaw, fingers trailing delicately over his porcelain skin. "You don't like it?" You pressed the dagger just a bit firmer against his neck. "I can hardly stand it. Gods, I want to split your throat open and watch you bleed for me." You cooed, your grip on the hilt shifting as you struggled to resist the flame in you that ached endlessly, just yearning to hear your love's final breath.

But not yet. Not yet.

The threats that spilled from your lips sounded sweet as sugar to Astarion. He knew your hunger, knew that you meant every word. More than that, he knew your desperate longing to spill his blood was born of a twisted blend of the terrible love of death you held and the wonderful, perfect love the two of you shared.

Every prick of blood drawn with your dagger that was tenderly kissed away was as good as a love letter to him. He didn't mind when your fingers would find their way to his throat, trembling with the willpower it took not to crush his windpipe. It all felt like the most sincere displays of love and trust he could possibly dream of.

"Not today, pet." He wrapped a hand delicately around your wrist as you let him pull the dagger away from his throat. "I have something special I'd like to ask of you."

"Anything." You pressed in close to him, weapon still held tight as you rested both hands against his chest.

"I want you to destroy Wyll Ravenguard."

~*~*~

Your mind had spun with so many possibilities. Wyll had been such a good friend through your journey along the Sword Coast. He had attempted to comfort you in the times before your mind fully returned to you. When you rebelled against the violence that was etched into your very soul.

He was so kind, people loved him. He didn't deserve to die, and that made it so much sweeter. His death had to be perfect, you decided. You wanted it to be intimate and personal. A murder hand tailored just for your dear friend.

Of course, he hadn't stuck by your side once he had realized that his peaceful ways had no claim to the life you chose to lead with your beloved. You understood, of course. Not everyone could grasp the way murder was truly just an act of worship. After all, if everyone was a murderer, there could be no innocent victims and that would never do.

What sort of death was befitting someone like Wyll? Not only someone of such status, but someone so personally dear to you? Poison would be nice. Perhaps you could invite him to dinner. You could prepare something special, something that would have him frothing at the mouth before succumbing to the toxin.

No, no, that was far too unbecoming for someone as lovely as Wyll. Perhaps you could gut him? It would be so intimate but you didn't really want to hear him scream. It was so violent, so feral, such an ungraceful way for the son of the Grand Duke to die.

You wanted it to be soft, personal. You wanted to wrap your fingers around his beautiful neck and squeeze. Your hands twitched with your desire to feel his pulse fade under your touch. You could take him out for an evening stroll, a chance to catch up.

If you had to, you could lie about needing his help. Wouldn't that be sweet? "Oh Wyll, I'm a monster. I need help but I'm so frightened of what Astarion might say." The Blade of Frontiers surely wouldn't be able to help himself. You could almost picture the look of betrayal in his eyes already.

Yes, that was it. Lure Wyll out with a sob story, begging for his help. Then, crush the life out of him as the shock set in. Maybe if you were very lucky he'd die with your betrayal written in his eyes. It was perfect.

It was supposed to be perfect, anyway.

~*~*~

You were late. It wasn't all that concerning, not at first anyway. Astarion had expected you back within three hours. That was the time frame you gave him. Long ago, he'd learned to give you an extra hour as you seemed to be such a truly awful judge of time when you had your hands in your victims innards.

Even your extra hour was up now, though. Suddenly, his mind began to race with the worst possible scenarios. There was no way Wyll could've overpowered you. Unless he got lucky. Unless he struck first? Why would he do that, you were supposed to be lying to him?

So then where could you be? He had already resolved that the two of you would have to talk about your ability to stick within a time frame. Four hours was more than enough time to strangle someone to death. If he found out you lost track of time carving poems into Wyll's skin, he was going to be furious.

Every second that ticked by without you felt like a lifetime now. He had to go find you, he couldn't sit here anymore. What if something had gone horribly wrong and he was just twiddling his thumbs.

He practically sprinted towards the front door, only stopping short when it creaked open in front of him. He stopped on a dime as he watched you take a few, shaky steps into the palace before collapsing.

In an instant, he was at your side. He slammed the door shut behind you, barking orders to nearby spawn to get you medicine, bandages, healing potions, anything.

He bundled you into his arms, tenderly but with a near feral desperation. Dried blood stained your face, your nose was absolutely broken. You'd been stabbed multiple times and the entire right side of your body was scorched.

The way you crumpled to the ground, unable to even bask in the agony of your own wounds, something was horribly wrong. “My love… precious little love, what happened?”

He ever so tenderly cupped your jaw as you groaned quietly in pain. You squinted up at him, his eyes were so worried and you were in far too much misery to dream about plucking them from his skull. “He didn't come alone…”

An ambush? Astarion's grip on you tightened just a bit as a wave of anger coursed through his body. He had known what your plan was, what should've happened. Wyll hadn't trusted you, he didn't believe you. Of course, he was right not to, but that didn't make Astarions blood boil any less. “Who else was there?”

One of the spawn returned with a healing potion that he brought to your lips before you could respond. It wasn't much, but it was enough to dull some of the ache. You'd taken several blasts of force magic to the chest, you knew many of your ribs were broken. Definitely your sternum, you hoped he had more options that could mend that break.

“Gale.” You mumbled, blinking up at your darling. “Shadowheart, Karlach, Halsin, Lae’zel. I could've handled two or three but… six. Like he gathered everyone he possibly could…”

Wyll hadn't trusted you an inch, that was obvious. How disappointing. Another spawn arrived with more healing items that he gently administered. “Tell me what happened, darling.” He clearly had no intention of moving you just yet, he was so worried. You could practically smell the fear radiating off him.

It wasn't the same fear you craved. You craved the fear of death. The panic and knowledge that they were about to die always felt like an aphrodisiac to you. It was different when someone was afraid of someone else dying. Especially now that it was targeted at you, by your sweetest love, you could confidently say you didn't care for it.

“I thought it was perfect. He was listening, he seemed so genuine. I cried and begged him for his help, I don't know if he actually believed me.” You winced as Astarion gently started to wipe some of the blood from your face. “The instant I touched him I got a fire bolt to the chest. They swarmed like pathetic little rats.”

“Calm, darling. You need rest, you need to stay still.” His voice was even and measured. It was too perfect, you knew he was barely concealing a seething rage underneath that voice.

“They were going to kill me. Me. After everything I did for them, everything we did together. They all wanted to kill me.” The hypocrisy was not lost on you. You were there to kill Wyll after everything the two of you had been through. It was one thing for you to have murder on the mind, another thing entirely for the bleeding hearts of your ‘friends.’

“I barely managed to slip into the shadows. I could hear them hunting me still, though. I had to practically drag myself back here.” You were angry, so angry. It was supposed to be perfect. You had wanted so, so terribly badly to hear Wyll's dying breath escape his beautiful lips.

You felt Astarion move, gently and slowly, until he had his arms under you, scooping you up bridal style. You often forgot just how strong his ascension had made him, he held you with all the same effort one might hold a cat. Like you were practically nothing in his arms.

“You need to rest, my pet.” You could feel his hands trembling as he held you tight. His undead heart raced in his chest and you didn't even have the energy to fantasize about ripping it out. Rest sounded so nice.

Failing a hunt was always devastating but this was something else. You had been so excited, you never considered the possibility that Wyll would be smart enough to bring backup. You'd relied so heavily on his desire to be a hero, you really expected him to believe your sob story.

Before you knew it, your love has whisked you away to your bedroom, tucking you securely into the comfortable sheets. He sat beside you, gently brushing your hair for a moment as he watched you situate yourself and your broken body. “I'm sorry.”

You didn't expect an apology, that was interesting. “For what?”

“I should've gone with you. We should've been smarter about this and now- now look at you. They could've killed you. Tossed your corpse in the Chionthar, I would've had no way to get you back.” His eyes were dark and angry but you could see his concern written plainly behind them. He was terrified.

“I should be the one apologizing…” you wanted to reach out and grab his hand but your whole body felt so heavy. “I failed. Now they all know he's your target, we won't get another chance. And who knows what they might say.”

“They won't say anything.”

“How can you-”

“I'm going to destroy them. Every last one, understand? I'm so sorry, darling, I know how badly you want to end them but you need to rest. Please.”

“Astarion, you can't go out there, they're still going to be on high alert. They're probably closing in on the palace as we speak. There's still only one of you and six of them. I know they didn't burn all their resources on me, you can't.”

You understood his urge to kill, more than anyone in the world. Your heart broke in your chest with the knowledge that Wyll would survive the night. You had been so eager for his blood, you truly couldn't have imagined the night going this way.

In retrospect, one of you should've guessed that he wouldn't trust you. You should've been prepared for this. You were getting sloppy and that simply wouldn't do.

You tried to push yourself up a bit, fighting a losing battle against Astarion's firm hand on your shoulder that held you down. “Astarion, if you're going to go, you have to take me with you, if we're together-”

“No.” His voice was stern despite the concern that was woven through it. “You're in no state to be doing anything right now.”

“And you will die if you go out there now.” You reached out to grab his hand, staring at him, eyes wide with worry. “Please, please, I'd go mad if anything happened to you, I beg you don't do this. I'm sorry I failed you, please don't go out there.”

Astarion knew your words held a double meaning that made you far more desperate to keep him at your side. You didn't want him to go out because it was dangerous and you couldn't imagine your life without him. More than that, though, he knew if anyone else ended his life you would raze Baldurs Gate to the ground.

One day, far off in the future, he knew you would be the one to end him. You didn't have a plan, it wasn't going to be any time in the next few centuries at least. His blood belonged to you, though, as much as you belonged to him. He was going to be your magnum opus one day, he had to survive.

Leaving Wyll alive meant that he could spread rumors that you had tried to kill him. Your status in the city was… complicated. Some people revered you as a hero along with the others, some believed you were the head of the cult of Bhaal that still ravaged the city. Others still believed you were dead, that every claimed sighting of you was just another person.

None of them were entirely true, no one knew who you really were. You had helped save the city. You were important to Bhaal’s cult. You certainly weren't dead. You liked how vague it all was, it meant you could get away with things. But if Wyll was going to out you, things were going to change. Especially if he outed Astarion in the process.

Your friends knew how close the two of you were. They knew you were, together, something worth fearing. There was no doubt in your mind that one of the six people that had tried to kill you would spill this story. It would probably be in bold print on the Gazette tomorrow.

“You didn't fail me, my love.” He leaned in to place a gentle kiss on your head, breaking off the frustration and panic running through your mind. “I'll stay.”

~*~*~

He did stay, at least for a while. Just long enough for you to fall asleep. He knew you were exhausted, your body needed time to recover. You'd be out cold for hours.

Astarion stalked through the halls of the palace with an aura of malice that frightened each spawn and servant he passed. Everyone saw the flame in his eyes and no one dared to interrupt him.

How dare they? Who did they think they were? To attempt to take you away from him? They should've known better, they should've known that Astarion wouldn't stand for it.

They knew how much he loved you, were they stupid? They tried to kill you, like they didn't think it would bring the wrath of the vampire ascendant. He was going to destroy every last one of them. Did they not know you were his? Did they not realize the power he wielded?

Every second that passed by flooded his mind with images of your broken, injured body. The way they all seemed to have gotten a strike in on your beautiful, delicate skin. As though they had any right to touch you - any right to look at you.

His mind raced with “what if’s.” If you hadn’t managed to get away, if your wounds had been any worse - might he have lost you for good? At the hands of people who had once claimed to be his friends, your friends.

The idea of losing you was enough to drive him mad. His pulse raced as his attention honed in solely on making them suffer for what they had done to you. He couldn’t survive without his darling, he needed you like oxygen. He was obsessed, he knew that, he didn’t care. He had earned the right to be obsessed and now these people were threatening everything he had worked so hard for - suffered so long for. He wouldn’t stand for it.

He tossed open the ornate front doors to his palace, calmly striding out and down the steps with his arms folded casually behind his back. In his eyes, though, there was a dark malice that shone in the moonlight. “Wyll Ravenguard.” He called out, into the night. His voice was even, betraying only a hint of the rage he felt. “No use hiding, I’m sure you’ve all found your way here by now. We can discuss this like civilized adults.”

A moment passed as his voice faded away into the night air. Then a response. “The time to discuss anything has passed, Astarion.” Wyll stepped out of the shadows, blade readied. “You sent your attack dog to murder me in the streets, there’s nothing civilized about this.”

As he spoke, the others emerged into the moonlit courtyard, each prepared to strike. “I’m afraid you’ve mistaken this as a personal offense, Wyll. You are, unfortunately, a rather big obstacle in my plans for the city. I’m sure you understand, I’ve got nothing against you, personally. You simply hold a tragically high title. I know you’re no stranger to political turmoil.”

“You’re so full of shit.” Karlach spoke up, adjusting her grip on the battleax she wielded. “So the fuck what if it’s political or personal, you tried to kill him.”

Astarion sighed, rolling his eyes and folding his arms. “And you tried to kill my pet.” He bit back a grin at the revulsion that radiated off some of your former companions at his choice of words. “We've all made mistakes tonight.”

He was so calm for someone surrounded by powerful, angry warriors. He remained unfazed as they slowly closed in around him as well. “She’s too dangerous to live.” Gale spoke as he stepped closer to the vampire, hands sparking with potential magic. “Especially being wielded as your weapon.”

“And she is such an effective one too, isn't she? Well, when she isn't being betrayed, it seems.” He threw a pointed grin at Wyll.

“Betrayed? Because I'm not a gods damned idiot, I'm the betrayer?” Wyll retorted, bitterly. “I wanted to trust her. Gods, do you have any idea how hopeful I was that she genuinely wanted my help? I would've forgiven her in an instant, but I'm no fool, Astarion. Even if it had been genuine it would've taken a serious lapse of judgment to find myself alone with a Bhaalspawn at all.”

Astarion just tutted softly, looking back at him like this was all just some kind of silly game they were playing. “It's a shame, the Bhaalspawn would've killed you kinder than I will. At least with my darling, murder is such a passion. I, meanwhile, want to rip into you with my bare hands and turn you inside out for threatening to take my love from me. Do you understand that? Who you're fucking with?” His calm demeanor was starting to slip as his barely contained rage was bubbling to the surface.

Wyll seemed to recognize this, holding one hand up in defense, though the other kept his blade readied. “You're right, this is political. I don't exactly want to cause a power vacuum in the under city. I don't want to kill you or her. We were friends, once. We all were. But hasn’t she caused enough carnage?”

“What?”

“I can be quick. This doesn't have to be messy. You can't be stupid, Astarion, she wants to kill you just as badly as she wants to love you. One day it's going to be you on the receiving end of her bloodlust. We could end it now, though. Rid Bhaal of another chosen, scatter the cult. Hells, I'll let you claim it, add another notch to your fake hero belt.”

Astarion stared at him for a moment, taking in the offer that had just been laid on the table. Had he been a more sensible man, more reasonable, less utterly obsessed with you, perhaps he could've seen the logic in such an argument.

He wasn't a reasonable man, though. Instead, his eyes darkened with a fury that shocked Wyll into taking a small step back. “You're kidding? Right, you're joking? To attack my love and show up on my doorstep to demand I hand her over to be slaughtered?

“You think I don't know how badly she wants to destroy me? She spends every day itching to bleed me dry and yet, here I stand. Every morning I wake up to her sleeping peacefully beside me, it's just like falling in love again. I am her number one target and she chooses every day to spare me. I would sooner rend the fabric of reality apart than hand her over to you.”

Before he had even finished speaking, the magic that built around Gale erupted. A blue streak of lightning lit the night around them as the wizard loosed the first blow, nearly catching Astarion off guard. Nearly.

A moment before the lightning could connect, Astarion vanished. He reappeared behind Gale, lodging his dagger squarely between his ribs and twisting as he leaned in close. “You forget who you're dealing with, here. I am a fucking god.”

He shoved Gale forward, sending him crumpling to the ground. Shadowheart lunged forward, already channeling a prayer. She was stopped dead in her tracks with a snap from the vampire, however. “I suggest you reconsider.” He smirked as she straightened up, her prayer morphing and twisting. The healing energy that had been building around her coalesced into a deadly bolt of light that streaked towards the unconscious mage.

As Gale stilled underneath Astarion, the rest of the party came to life, all brandishing their weapons with the intent of taking down the vampire lord in his own courtyard. How quaint.

Their attacks narrowly avoided him, catching him not nearly as often as he struck them. Despite their best efforts, they were facing down an enemy that held more power than they could ever hope for. He wasn't truly a god, he had only a few dedicated worshipers but they could more accurately be called fanatics. Regardless, his power could rival some lesser gods.

It was different than facing down a Chosen. Power gifted to an avatar was nothing compared to what came from a gods own hand. Maybe if there had been a few more of them, perhaps if he hadn't taken out their wizard instantly, maybe they would've stood a chance.

He wasnt sure when it happened, at some point Shadowheart and Halsin disappeared. A tactical retreat or simply fleeing a fight they knew they couldn't win. It didn't matter, he could hunt them down later.

There was a feral part of him that so rarely got to see the light of day. Somewhere deep and dark in whatever remained of his soul. These kills didn't need to be clean. Perhaps, he thought, as he buried his claws into Lae’zel’s stomach, grabbing and ripping out what he could. Perhaps Gale had gotten off too easy.

Should he revive him after all this? He was so smart, he could be a useful spawn. Maybe he could even be a little gift to you. Your own little toy to torment as you pleased.

Karlach dropped to the ground, the rage and adrenaline that had been powering her through the multiple deep wounds she'd received finally giving out on her. That was all right, she could bleed out, Astarion didn't mind. Now he could turn all his attention back to Wyll.

The man stood before Astarion, despite sustaining several injuries. He still held his sword tightly, though it wavered ever so slightly. He didn't speak, his face was awash with countless emotions.

“Are you going to be a hero, Wyll? Stay and fight bravely until the bitter end? A stupid, pointless fight that's already killed two of your precious friends. And seems to be working it's magic on a third.” He nodded towards Karlach, still breathing heavy, still clinging to life.

Astarion had taken a few solid hits, he wasn't doing exceptionally well, but he was still faring much better than his old friend. “You don't have to be a hero.” He continued, watching him calmly as his wounds slowly knitted back together. “In fact, take her. Run. Go and survive and live to fight another day. You're no good to the coast dead, Mr. Frontiers.”

Wyll stared at him, eyes flicking to Karlach for just a moment. “I'm not an idiot, as soon as I turn my back you'll be on me.”

“Oh I don't know about that. I've thought of something far more fun. How about we cut a deal? I know you're a big fan of making deals that are bad for you, you should be an old pro.” The grin that spread across Astarion's face was enough to make a shiver run down Wyll's spine.

He'd seen that smirk before. That was the look of a devil who knows he's won. Something about seeing it on the face of a man who used to be his friend, it made Astarion far more intimidating than Wyll would've liked. “What… deal?”

“You leave now, I'll even let you take poor Karlach.” He threw a fake frown in her direction. “Or stay and I will gut both of you like the pitiful creatures you are. However, know that if you leave, I will hunt both of you to the ends of the world. It'll be like a game between us. One that will end with your mutilated corpses crushed beneath my boot. But you will live to protect your precious city another day.”

“Why? Just a minute ago you were content to slaughter all of us in your front yard. You won, why bother?” He didn't trust it, not an inch.

Astarion just laughed softly at him, cocking his head. “I changed my mind. Am I not allowed? No, I think I much prefer the idea of you spending the rest of your days hiding from me. I want you to go to bed every single night of your pathetic life wondering if this will be the night I put you out of your misery. Maybe I'll even send my Bhaalspawn after you to finish the job she started. Wouldn't that be fun?”

His voice was calm and collected, as though this were the most casual conversation in the world. He wasn't bluffing, and Wyll wasn't exactly interested in trying to test him. He bit his lip, his gaze shifting between Karlach and Astarion.

“Better pick fast, my friend. She won't last much longer, and I'm sure you don't want to leave her of all people with me.

“Fine. Fine, gods damn it all.” If only looks could kill, then perhaps Wyll mightve stood a chance alone against the vampire ascendant.

“I'll see you soon, my favorite little toy.” Astarion grinned like a madman as Wyll knelt beside Karlach, quickly casting a spell that teleported both of them away from the courtyard and out of view.

Astarion only chuckled to himself, rather pleased with the game he'd just made. He wouldn't even have to do much besides threaten him every so often now. And one day he would kill him, when he got bored or angry enough.

His attention turned to the two corpses left in the grass near him. Lae’zel and Gale, two incredibly powerful individuals. He could not wait until you woke up to find your new toys.

[callsign-muffin]

Heal Together: Chapter 10 (Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw fic)

So I guess I can write it on here now that it's official. I had to break up with my boyfriend of 3 years last week. It was a painful but necessary decision. It's why I've been... not around for the past couple months. Nothing drains you more than a toxic relationship.

Masterlist + Playlist

Word Count: 1.8k+

“You wanna catch a baby today?” Deb, the sweet yet fierce nurse that you were shadowing asked you. She was probably in her 50s and had definitely been doing this job for almost as long as you’d been alive.

You sputtered, “Wait, what?” 

She laughed, getting a kick out of your confusion, “You’re gonna be the one to put this baby on Mom’s chest when it comes out.” She said, “There’s no better feeling.”

“But… I don’t know what to do…” You could feel your pulse bounding in your neck.

“You’re gonna do everything I tell you to do.” She smiled, “And you’ll be great.”

“Take a big deep breath and push… 1,2, 3, 4…” Deb expertly coached the patient for the past half hour and the baby’s head was just about crowning.

You hadn’t seen a birth since you were in school. You held one of the patient’s legs in position and counted along with Deb. This was better than you remembered it.

“Y/N, hit the call bell and tell the team we have a delivery.” Deb instructed you.

You did exactly as you were told, “Delivery in room 8!”

“You ready to have a birthday party?” Deb asked the patient sweetly.

She nodded, tears filling her eyes, “As ready as I’ll ever be!”

Next thing you knew, a team of people entered and started working like a well oiled machine. You helped Deb set up the bed, the doctors put on gowns and gloves, and the charge nurse swept through the room doing safety checks.

“Looks like we only need another big push or two!” The doctor said, “you ready to become a mom for the second time?”

Still crying tears of joy, the patient nodded, took a big deep breath and put on her game face.

You laid a blanket for the baby in the mom’s chest, “You’ve got this, Mama!”

With her husband holding one leg and you holding the other, a baby girl emerged in two big pushes.

Deb stood behind you like a guardian angel on your shoulder, “Lift baby and put her on the blanket  Mom’s chest. Don’t worry, she’s not made of glass.”

You did exactly that and your chest felt tight because the baby was whining a little and not giving those big cries.

“Dry off baby with the blanket to stimulate those big cries.” Deb said calmly.

You did exactly as you were told and within a second or two, the baby let out strong beautiful screams.

“Happy Birthday!” You said in a sing-song voice.

Deb passed you a stethoscope, “Listen to the lungs. How do they sound?”

You quickly put the stethoscope in your ears and placed the bell in baby’s back, “All clear.” 

“Well done,” Deb said, cover baby with a dry blanket so Mama can enjoy some snuggles.”

The patient looked up at you, “Thank you guys so much.”

“Yes, thank you for everything.” Her tearful husband added, “You all were incredible.”

For the first time in a long time, this feeling of warmth came over you. Something you're not sure you’ve felt in your nursing career before. 

“You did beautifully in there, dear.” Deb gave you a firm squeeze on the shoulder back at the nurse’s station.

You gasped, “Really?! I was freaking out!”

She chuckled, “You looked cool as a cucumber to me, must be all that time in the ICU.”

You shrugged, “This was definitely better than a shift at the ICU, I’ll tell ya that much.”

“The good days are great on this unit.” she said, “the bad days, they are the absolute worst. I know you know that feeling.”

You nodded, “All too well. Unfortunately, the bad days outnumber the good where I am.”

“I have a feeling you won’t have to stay there much longer.” She winked at you and went back to her charting.

█ ✪ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█ ✪ █

Y/N: I helped deliver a baby today

Bradley: No way!!! I want to hear everything!

Y/N: Come over, I’m on my way home.

Bradley: Say fucking less, sweetheart

Y/N: I just have to shower, I got baby goo on me

Bradley: Hot.

Bradley knocked on Y/N’s apartment door, he could hear the faint sound of the shower running.

“It’s open!” Her voice called out. 

Bradley entered to find Y/N walking towards her bathroom in nothing but a towel.

“Excuse me, Miss!” He scoffed, “You better walk that sexy ass back over here and gimme a kiss.”

Y/N didn’t turn around but just backed up until she bumped into his chest.

He weaved his arms around her waist, giving her a tight squeeze, and leaving loud smooches on her cheek.

“Bradley,” She tried to wiggle away, “be careful, I have nasty hospital germs all over me!”

“Don’t tell me how I can love my girl” he grumbled into her shoulder.

She immediately turned around to face him with a raised eyebrow, “Your girl, huh? This is the first I’m hearing of this, Bradshaw!”

His ears went red, “Well… I mean… I think that you and I…”

She winked and wiggled out of his arms, “I’m gonna go shower while you gather your thoughts… or you could get in with me…”

Bradley stripped off his shirt, “Ya don’t have to tell me twice!”

“And then she emerged… wrinkly, kinda purple, and wet. And yet she was… absolutely beautiful.” Y/N sighed, recounting the events of your day on the couch with Bradley, your legs draped over his lap.

He couldn’t help but smile like an idiot, he had never heard her speak about something hospital related with this much joy. 

She paused for a moment when she noticed his face, “What? Is all this weird? I’m sorry if it’s weird?”

“No, sweetheart. It’s not weird at all. There’s nothing better to me than to see you so excited.” He explained, still wearing that cheesy grin.

Y/N climbed into his lap, “You want to see me get even more excited?”

He scoffed playfully, “Obviously.”

“Tell me more about how I’m your girl.” She proposed. 

“Well,” He snuggled her closer to him, “Well, I just think— no, I just feel… that I love hanging out with you so much and loving on you so much, that I want to be the only one.”

She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder, “Oh Bradshaw, you’ve been the only one.”

He kissed the crown of your head and let out a sigh of relief, “Thank fucking God, you’ve been the only one too.”

“I find that hard to believe,” she rolled her eyes, “I’ve seen the way women gawk at you at the Hard Deck.”

“I think you’re mixing me up with Hangman.” He chuckled.

“You’re literally built like a Greek god! Any woman would want to climb you like a tree!” She cried out then paused and blushed, realizing how weird what she just said was.

Rooster let out a sputter of laughter, “I’m sorry… I’ve just never heard the euphemism before.”

Y/N groaned and covered your face with embarrassment, “Don’t look at me.”

He kissed the side of her head as he pulled her even closer to him, and mumbled with his lips still against her soft skin, “The only one allowed to climb this tree is you, Sweetheart.”

Still embarrassed, she kept her hands over her face.

“Like a sexy little squirrel, or a koala, or…” he paused to think for a moment to think, “… a spider monkey!”

Y/N removed her hands from her face to give Bradley a confused look, “… what the fuck? Are spider monkeys even real animals?”

“Doesn’t matter, you’re the only one climbing all up on this wood, baby girl.” He did a little shimmy.

“That’s it! You’re done!” Y/N attempted to get up from his lap but Bradley quickly wrapped his strong arms around her body, pulling her close.

He repeatedly kissed her cheek and spoke between each one as she giggled, “You’re. Staying. Right. Here. Sweetheart.”

█ ✪ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█ ✪ █

“Hey Y/N,” Becca, the break nurse, greeted you, “It’s your turn to go on break. I’ll cover your patients.”

Break nurses. What an incredible concept. You wished all states would require them in their hospitals like California does. The culture of nursing in California has honestly been what’s made this assignment in a patriarchal military hospital worth it. If you were dealing with all the cultural bullshit and poor work conditions, there’s no way you would've been able to function like a normal human being. 

You didn’t have to be told twice to scaddle off of that unit. Parks, the intern resident, was driving you crazy, breathing down your neck. And the attending that was on wasn’t doing anything to stop it. 

“Two more weeks.” You mumbled to yourself as you walked out the automatic door of the unit, with your lunch box in hand, and towards the coffee shop. You grabbed yourself a mediocre latte and headed out to your favorite courtyard to get some fresh air. As you sat down at a picnic table, you let out a big sigh of relief, feeling your nervous system relax for the first time since you clocked in. You pulled out your phone, checking texts from your mom, your best friend from college, and Bradley. Then you opened your email to find an email from Scripps:

Good Morning Y/N,

Thank you so much again for coming on Labor & Delivery for a shadow shift this week. We would like to offer you a position on our unit—

Before you could read any further, you choked on your own spit. Was this real?! You read the first line again and continued until the end of the email. This was real. By this time next month, you could be starting a new job as a labor and delivery nurse. Yes, you’d be making significantly less than you do as a traveler… however… you would get to feel that feeling again. The feeling of placing a newborn on their mama’s chest for the first time. Who to call first?! Your mom? Bradley? You opted for your mother who didn’t answer, of course. Since becoming empty nesters, your parents lived carefree lives of travel and leisure. They never had their phones on them and if they did, there was a 50/50 chance of them being charged. So you opted for the next best person, Bradley. But again, after many rings, you got a voicemail. It was hard to ignore the disappointment burning in your chest.

“Hey Bradley, I know you’re probably busy at work or flying in the clouds somewhere but… call me when you can, preferably after 7:30 since I’m at work and can’t talk on the floor. Umm, bye.” You hung up the phone and signed. You knew it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t answer, he was at work. Like you, he has a very busy hands on job that deals with sensitive information. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t be just a little bit disappointed.

Tag list:

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[bestworstcase]

thoughts cooking.

mountain glenn, grimm overwhelmed the city and the people took shelter in caves, building an entire underground city after the destruction above. an explosion later opens a breach into a grimm nest, grimm flood the city again, and vale seals off the tunnels, implicitly without attempting rescue or evacuation, sacrificing the people to protect the core city.

<- same choice ironwood made.

“i see lives that could have been saved,” and all. vale created the world’s largest tomb.

fast forward a few decades. a single transport ship approaches vacuo with the news that salem came to vale and “there’s nothing left.” the huntsmen aboard “led the civilian retreat, brought as many people as we could…”

that turn of phrase—‘led the civilian retreat’—doesn’t evoke a panicked, disorganized scramble to get away from vale. it calls to mind the orderly evacuation procedures we saw during the battle for beacon, where people were loaded efficiently into transports to move them from beacon into a safe zone established in vale. port and oobleck were in charge of that retreat too. (and it demonstrated generally that emergency evacuation is something vale has on a lock—the assault on beacon blindsided everyone but the kingdom’s crisis response plan sprang into action like a well-oiled machine.)

only one ship, though.

when cinder attacked beacon, they retreated to a safe zone in vale. when salem hit vale, the immediately obvious place to establish a safe zone is patch—it’s close by but separated by a body of water, and it’s relatively defensible (an island). unlike vale, patch probably doesn’t have the room or resources to support a large urban population indefinitely, but you can use it as a relatively secure staging area for a subsequent evacuation to somewhere else. what you probably can’t do is squeeze anything like the majority of vale’s population onto patch island. (i mean, you could if it’s as huge as it appears to be on the map, but the map is NOT to scale and i get the impression that patch is supposed to be quite small.)

mountain glenn. “i see lives that could have been saved.” vale’s greatest failure, standing abandoned as a dark reminder. and “if you can’t learn from [history], you’re destined to repeat it.” did vale learn from its failure in abandoning mountain glenn to die?

in this fractal spiral of a story. ironwood didn’t get his way, but what if he had? “we are saving who we can” -> “brought as many people with us as we could,” with the history teacher whose chosen purpose is to prevent another mountain glenn from happening hunched over, haunted, in the background. is this a fucking counterfactual.

also if there were people left behind in vale, the mountain glenn undercity is the obvious place for them to flee. it’s not safe, but you can get there from vale through the tunnels (less exposed than driving or flying above ground) and if you can barricade the points of ingress to the cavern, it’s at least a more defensible place to set up an encampment than anywhere out in the open.

and i mean it might be that salem massacred the city and let one ship escape to maximize the damage to morale and provoke as much outrage as possible for the sake of getting the sword out of that vault. but mountain glenn is such a crucial narrative cornerstone, and vale has a history of making the kind of sacrifices ironwood tried to make with mantle, and the specific phrasing used here is interesting (“nothing left” vs “no one left,” “civilian retreat” implying an orderly process a la the evacuation from beacon).

i think it’s also the more narratively interesting and dynamic choice for there to have been a judgment call to leave a large number of people behind—it’s a counterfactual vehicle for unpacking team rwby’s conflicted feelings about their decision-making in atlas through comparison to what vale’s leadership did in the same situation, and there being some ambiguity as to whether anyone else survived allows for a thin ray of hope (maybe there are some people still alive) to galvanize the coalition into a counteroffensive (if there’s even the smallest possibility of survivors, we need to help them. we have to try.) and you draw the tension in salem’s character between her extremism and her effort to chart what she believes is the minimally destructive course to the surface by putting a survivor’s encampment within her immediate reach.

[addicted-to-dc]

Jekyll/Hyde Part 3 - Taskforce 141 x Reader

< Prev Chapter

(A/N) HELLO!! We're finally delving into Jekyll's backstory. Nothing like seeing a character before their life falls apart. I'm still planning out THE mission that changed everything, but we'll build up to that XD.

Content Warnings: Flashback, smut (fingering, piv), PTSD, vomiting, smoking. (Let me know if I missed any tags tyyyyy). About 2k words.

///////////////////////////////////

Sunlight leaks through the curtains, lightly dancing around the room with your laughter. It’s warm despite the winter season. Hot hands burn through your pajamas, toying with the seams until he just slides them under the fabric. You sigh, burrowing deeper into his grasp.

“G’ mornin’,” you mutter, sliding your arms over his. “Time?”

“Early enough, wanted more time with you,” Dane grunts beneath you, hands roaming and squeezing wherever they please. “I have a bad feeling about this one.”

It’s been more noticeable these days, each step you and your team take feels weighted. Slowed down. Made inefficient. Losing that quality has cost lives, leads, and your fucking sanity. Your well-oiled machine is stunted, as if someone is actively sabotaging it.

A harsh squeeze brings you back to him. “I fear there’s a weed in our garden… and it’s going to get all of us killed. You’ve noticed, haven’t you?”

Your stomach drops. Of course you’ve fucking noticed. Too many coincidences that result in failed missions. Injuries that cause delays. Bureaucratic red tape was the recent gimmick, but you recognize it as a red flag. You have a bad feeling about this one too. Your alarms have been ringing for months now, the warnings growing less and less effective against your phantom threat.

“I contacted some old friends, told them to keep an eye out for suspicious activity,” you grunt, pushing yourself up. Dane has other plans, pulling you back down. His hands begin to wander again.

“Did they find anything?” His scorching hands against your cold skin leave goosebumps in his wake. It forces you to shiver, stealing back the blanket he stole during the night. “I’m surprised you didn’t tell me about this.”

“I don’t need to remind you about keeping our professional and personal lives separate,” you huff, batting his hands away as soon as they delve lower, “and of course they haven’t found anything. Whoever is involved in this knows how to cover their tracks. They’ll slip up soon, they have to.”

Your joints pop as soon as you stand, taking a few moments to stretch out. Oddly, no aches or pains greet you this morning. It’s difficult to slip into the dark mindset that even the closest and most trusted individuals around you may be plants. Your eyes drift back to Dane, peering over your shoulder mid-stretch. Of course he’s staring at you. Rolling your eyes, you start getting ready.

His arms engulf you, pulling you back into the bed, “Get back here.”

It’s too easy to melt back into him.

“Need coffee,” you grumble, fighting his cuddles. You’ll fall back asleep at this rate. “Need t’ feed th’ dogs.”

He shakes his head, wet kisses following a path up your neck. “We’ll get Auggie to do it.”

“Not sure if passing responsibilities to my team is – AH!” Your words cease as his teeth sink into your flesh, body jumping as he maneuvers himself between your legs. “Fuck, do I need to muzzle you?”

His only response is a nip to your skin, teeth tracing along your collection of scars. The boxers he’s wearing barely provide a barrier as his hips meet yours. Bulky arms wrap around your figure, keeping you still as he grinds directly onto your core. Your nails digging into his flesh only spur him to add more weight behind his movements, your breath quickening with the increase in pleasure.

Dane’s lips meet yours as he slides a finger in, absorbing your noises after every single drag along your walls. His touch lights your skin on fire, only making you more desperate for him. Tightening your hold on him, a strong push sends him onto his back. “Sit.”

He quickly pushes himself against the headboard, boxers left behind at the drag of cloth on cloth. Crawling to him, you take your rightful seat on his lap. You guide his hand back to your wetness, “Get wet f’me, gonna make this quick.”

“Fuck yeah, baby, please,” he whimpers, quickly following your instructions. “Need this. Need you, fuck, please.”

Pleasure zings up your spine as you line him up, knees descending slowly to let him in, “Love it when you beg. Good boy.”

Then you sink down completely, relishing in the burn from him splitting you open. His hands fly up to your waist in a flash. You relish the view of his gasping breaths, veins bulging and tense muscles. Poor man’s trying to not blow his load the second he slips in. Chuckling, you grind yourself against him and entertain yourself with his reactions.

“Can’t take what you dish, love?” you snark, nails dragging across his scalp until you have a good grip on him. Adjusting your position, you push his face into your chest. “Be good.”

His lips wrap around your nipple, sucking and licking as you finally start moving. You close your eyes and focus on the feeling of him inside of you. Your grip on his hair remains tight as you force him to switch breasts, the new stimulation causing your pace to falter slightly. Adjusting yourself, you switch to a roll of your hips and gasp.

“Am I being good?”

You open your eyes and recoil, attempting to push yourself off, but his harsh grip on your waist prevents any movement. He ushers you to continue, but the image of him alone makes you freeze. The smell of blood fills your nostrils, smoke soon follows as you push him away from you.

He’s torn apart, nose long gone and chunks taken from any exposed flesh. Laughter rattles your brain as he rubs in the blood across your chest, hand traveling downwards to circle your clit. “C’mon, Huntress, don’t hold back on me know.”

Dane’s usual smile is gone, replaced by marred lips and opening wider and wider until it surpasses his jawline. His fingers puncture your waist, digging in deep until he grabs ahold of something inside. He bites your ear, gnawing on the wound he gave you.

“You’ve made your mark, Darlin’, s’ only right that I make mine.” His teeth sink into your flesh just as air is forced out of your lungs.

Your eyes snap open, mid-way through a scream as you slam onto the floor. Battling against the blanket, you wrench it off and push yourself back until you hit the cold wall behind you. Everything blurs around you until you reach for the trashcan next to your bed, emptying the remnants of last night’s dinner into it. Thankfully it has a trash bag in it.

A cold nose to your arm pulls you out of the veil. You take a deep breath and spit the lingering vomit from your mouth. Blinking rapidly, you finally take in your surroundings. Shitty beige walls, cheap office furniture, the light switch on the wall with duct tape over it-

“Fuck,” you groan, slamming your palm on the side table to shakily push yourself up.

You don’t look into the mirror once you enter the bathroom, quickly rinsing the leftover taste in your mouth. It doesn’t take long to toss on your boots and jacket to leave. The dogs follow.

You’re not sure how long you walked into the forest. The wind swaying the leaves replaces Dane’s raspy drawl. The scent of soil and flora soothes your mind, erasing any thought of his cologne. Sir and Ruse march ahead and clear a path for you. Bear remains by your side, her cold nose tapping your hand every now and then.

You decide you’ve reached your destination at the sight of a fallen tree. “Ruse dig.”

The pup barks and excitedly digs into the wet soil. Sir barks when the dirt smacks into him, moving to join your side with a grumble. You take a seat against the trunk, leaning against Sir to watch Ruse wreck the ground. He whines when he finds a rock, pawing at it for a few moments before leaning in and biting it out of the way.

He whips it out of sight, stealing a chuckle from you. His face is completely muddy, but that doesn’t stop him from panting giddily from exertion. “Good Ruse.”

Patting his head, you dig into your jacket pocket to retrieve the rings. You find the chain first, tugging it out when it gets caught on a loose thread. The rings jingle against each other even as they land in the freshly dug hole.

“Sir, bury. Ruse to me.”

Ruse lays down in Sir’s previous spot, groaning when your nails scratch his belly. You draw random patterns while playing with his fur, eyes fixed on the rings until they’re out of sight under the dirt. A deep breath escapes you. The tension in your shoulders lessens.

A new beginning, that’s the label Laswell slapped onto your current predicament. How can there be a beginning when the cycle repeats? Your trust in anyone has significantly decreased, but you can’t help but wonder if this will be permanent.

Huntress. A title you buried long ago. You glare at the disturbed dirt. Your memories can’t help but playback in your mind, Mohawk’s question rattling in your mind. Why the name change? A simple question with a painful answer. Bear’s rumbling growl tears you from your thoughts, eyes meeting Price’s. Your stomach drops. Fuck, how long have you been out here?

You run your fingers through Bear’s fur, calming her down enough for him to comfortably approach. He offers a cigarette, lighting it before depositing it between your fingers. The first inhale is long, sucking in the smoke before blowing it away from the dogs. Price takes a seat across from you, grunting once his ass meets the downed tree.

“You solid?”

A dry huff escapes you, “Gaseous at best, Sir.”

Your fingers dance along your pups’ fur as you trace the unique patterns. The smell of nicotine drowns out the scent of soil. It grounds you enough to look back at him. He’s already lit his own cigar, cold eyes analyzing you. It hasn’t even been a week and you’re already a visible nutcase. More so than normal. It’s been some time since you had a nightmare like that.

“You’re not the first broken soldier that’s been sent my way. By fate or otherwise,” Price rumbles, flicking off some ash. “M’ gonna take care of you. All of us will.”

“That’s nothing you can guarantee,” you whisper, wiping away your unwanted tears. “I appreciate the sentiment.”

“You want to die?”

Your eyes snap to his, unable to read his expression. What a loaded question. Can you simply walk amongst the living with the weight of death upon your shoulders? This isn’t a life, it’s borrowed time. You should have died that day.

“I have been defiled and betrayed by those closest to me, Captain,” you chuckle, your grip on the dogs tightening. “My team, my husband…”

The dogs skitter away as you push yourself up, graciously providing space to stand. You gather up saliva and spit on top of the packed dirt. Fuck him. Fuck the nightmares. They remind you of the weight on your shoulders, the promises you made to right the wrongs of the world. An impossible burden to bear (alone).

“It’s not about wanting to die; it’s about making it count,” you finally answer, blowing away the veil of smoke gathering around you. “I want to see it through. Watch them burn.”

“And after?” Thinking about the future is a dangerous thing. Do you dare allow hope to fester in your scarred heart?

“My dreams of a future are gone, John. It’s best to leave dead things alone.” You walk away, whistling loudly for your pack to follow. “Thanks for the cigarette.”

There’s rustling behind you and he’s by your side. So much for walking away from this conversation. The dogs run ahead and leave you alone with him. Fucking great. Furry little traitors.

“What did you want, then?”

A stupid, foolish dream. “A family.”

[rainbowsky]

Hi Rainbowsky, hope you are well. ☺️✨

In the last few weeks there has been a lot of hate, lawsuits, hot trends etc like the usual so/o stuff…nothing new surprise surprise. 🙄 I was thinking maybe if xz or yb made a statement that there is no bad blood between them, (they don't have to come out or make it clear that they are friends privately) but more like "yeah we worked together and are still on good terms" and "please don't attack or make false rumours about the other person" would the hate die down a bit or do you think it will get worse? I know it's not their job to give brain cells to mindless so/os, but maybe it could help newer fans who joined the fandom just so they wouldn't jump on the hate bandwagon because of so/os. It must be exhausting for xz and yb with all the hate, suing accounts, planning how to avoid the other person at award show because of stupid “fans” etc.

These are just some of the thoughts I've been having over the last few days. Are my thoughts too simple? I don't know if xz or yb made a statement already or if you've talked about this before, if so I'm sorry for filling your question box unnecessarily.

thank you for reading my question 🥰 I wish u a beautiful day and enjoy your weekend ✌🏽☺️

Hi Jinniecooky! Thanks, I hope you're well too! ☺️

Unfortunately I really don't see a statement improving things. It would be too risky on various fronts and would likely only make matters worse.

These fan groups are organized, well-oiled machines - especially GG's. The leadership of these groups tells the fans what to do and how to act, they give strict guidelines on what is expected of the fans, and any fan who wants to be included has to stay in line and do, say, believe as they're told.

Part of that involves selling narratives created and perpetuated by these fandom leaders and their corporate black pr embeds. They come up with elaborate stories that cast the star as a selfless, brilliant hero who is in a grand cosmic battle against 'those who want to destroy them', often with detailed claims and photoshopped or misleadingly edited/framed 'evidence' to support those claims.

Fans get sucked into these narratives and believe with all their hearts that the stories are true. They spend countless hours online spreading these lies and battling these imagined foes. They spend all their money on endorsements - whether they can afford it or not - and all their spare time on boosting the star's numbers on every platform and in every way they can.

As a result they have a deeply rooted conceit that they know what's best for the star, that the star owes their fame and success to fans, and that their activities - as hateful as they often are - are nothing less than the devoted, dedicated, selfless, heroic hard work on behalf of the star.

A statement like this would be treated as ingratitude, and would cause a lot of uproar and anger. These toxic fans would lose a lot of face if such a statement was issued, because it would run against everything they've been and stood for up until this point. The fan groups would likely try to recover by turning against the star and their management - making an even bigger mess for the star to clean up.

As I've said many times - toxic fan culture is about power and status. It's about these fans and fan groups wanking over their star being the biggest, best, etc. The bigger and more successful the star, the more of an ego boost these fans get out of it.

Speaking against anything these fans say or do cuts into that power and status in a way that can be very dangerous. We've all seen how people who speak up against them are treated. Trust me - the star and his team would fare no better if they spoke up.

The serious, long-standing fans who are deeply embedded in fan culture - especially the leadership figures in these fandoms - often know 'where the bodies are buried', too. They've made it their business to know all the dirt on their star, all the better to keep his image clean and bury the story. These are not the kind of people a star will want on their bad side.

In many ways, stars are hostages to their fan groups. These are the people pushing to build their numbers and success, and they can be very fickle, demanding and nasty.

Not only that, a statement would only draw more attention to these battles and bring them into the mainstream where passersby would see all the dirty laundry that's currently confined mostly to fandom spaces. It could escalate everything into an even bigger scandal that could burn out of control and possibly permanently damage or destroy the star.

There's also the fact that GG and DD will not want to risk the nature of their relationship becoming a bigger public story.

And that's before we even get into the fact that they've released dozens of statements over the years - especially GG - trying to get fans into line, giving guidelines on fan behavior, etc. and these toxics have ignored every word of it.

Overall, I just don't see a statement helping at all, and would likely only make matters worse.

I've often felt their best bet would be to come out as friends in a setting where fans dare not fuck with things. For example, appearing onstage together at a nationalistic event or in a nationalistic program.

But that's unlikely to ever happen for various reasons. Appearing together would put both of them at huge risk. Such an appearance would inevitably draw a lot of attention and gossip. Even if it was mostly positive due to fans trying not to cause any trouble, GG and DD would overshadow the message and gravity of the occasion. It would make them look bad - at best, traffic stars (images they're trying to shed), at worst, disrespectful or irreverent to the government or serious occasion.

And one would have to accept the possibility that even such a serious occasion under the eye of the government wouldn't be enough to stop fan wars from happening.

At the end of the day, it's just safer for GG and DD to let things run their course and hope that these assholes eventually lose interest and move on. To accept fan wars and haters as just part of the cost of doing business.

Similarly, I think we need to just accept that haters gonna hate, and stop focusing on haters and antis. We're not here for other fans, we're here for GG and DD. If we put our focus there and block and ignore all the toxics, we can enjoy fandom - which is the entire point.

Recent post related to this topic:

GG and DD supposedly collaborating on a new movie

[rogueshadow1124]

MISSION FAIL

[Simon 'ghost' Riley x reader]

Summary: ghost and Y/N are paired for a mission, little do they know it will take a turn.

Word count: 1222

Warning: mention of injury (gunshot wound).

Simon “Ghost” Riley, masked and taciturn, crouched in the dense foliage of the jungle. The moonlight filtered through the leaves, casting a mottled pattern on the ground. His breath came in measured puffs, forming brief clouds in the chilly air. His eyes, ever watchful, scanned the perimeter of the compound ahead. Beside him, Y/N, his partner for the mission, was silently adjusting her gear, her movements fluid and practiced.

The objective was clear: infiltrate the compound, gather intel on the insurgent group’s plans, and exfiltrate without leaving a trace. Simple in theory, challenging in practice. Ghost and Y/N had been working together for months, their teamwork seamless, their trust implicit.

Ghost checked his radio for the final time. “You ready?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.

Y/N’s reply was a soft chuckle. “As ready as I’ll ever be. Just remember, Ghost, if anything goes sideways, you owe me a drink.”

Ghost’s eyes flickered behind his mask, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “Only if you don’t get us both killed.”

“Deal,” Y/N replied with a wink.

They moved forward, blending into the shadows as they approached the compound’s outer fence. The operation proceeded with the precision of a well-oiled machine. Ghost worked on disabling the alarm system while Y/N kept watch, her eyes darting over every movement in the dark.

“Alarm’s down,” Ghost murmured, his voice clipped but satisfied.

“Great. Now let’s get inside before they figure out we’re here,” Y/N responded, slipping through the breach in the fence with practiced ease.

Inside, the compound was a labyrinth of concrete and steel. They navigated the corridors with quiet efficiency, Ghost leading the way, his senses on high alert. Y/N followed closely, her movements almost a mirror image of his. They reached the intel room—a small, heavily guarded chamber with a single guard stationed outside.

Ghost signaled for Y/N to stay put as he took out the guard with a silenced shot. The guard crumpled silently to the ground, and Ghost swiftly moved to the door, unlocking it with a keycard he’d swiped from the guard’s belt.

Once inside, Y/N worked at the computer, her fingers flying over the keyboard. “I’ve got the intel. Let’s wrap this up and get out of here,” she said.

Ghost nodded, his gaze constantly shifting between the door and Y/N. Just as they were about to leave, the unexpected happened. The door creaked open, and an alarm blared, flooding the room with a red, pulsating light. Ghost reacted instinctively, pulling Y/N into a nearby alcove as gunfire erupted outside the room.

“Stay down!” Ghost commanded, his tone more urgent than before.

Y/N ducked low, her face set in a grimace of concentration. “This wasn’t part of the plan,” she joked, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere. “But you know, Ghost, it’s always the quiet ones you’ve got to watch out for.”

Ghost didn’t respond, his focus entirely on the door. He pulled out his radio and began coordinating their extraction, his voice clipped and authoritative. “We need to get out now. The exit route’s compromised. I’m sending you the alternate route. Follow my lead.”

Y/N nodded, though her expression was tense. She was clearly trying to mask her pain, but Ghost’s sharp eyes caught the wince as she adjusted her position. “You alright?” he asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

“Just peachy,” Y/N replied with a forced grin. “But maybe a little less peach and a little more bruised.”

Ghost’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing, focusing on their escape route. They navigated the compound’s corridors, the sounds of chaos growing louder behind them. Ghost’s tactical skills and Y/N’s agility got them through a series of narrow escapes, each step bringing them closer to freedom.

As they neared the final exit, Y/N stumbled, her breath coming in short gasps. Ghost’s hand shot out, steadying her. “You’re injured,” he said, his voice betraying a rare note of concern.

Y/N tried to brush it off. “It’s nothing. Just a scratch. You should see the other guy.”

Ghost’s eyes narrowed behind his mask. “We’re not playing around here. How bad is it?”

Y/N hesitated, then lifted her shirt slightly to reveal a bloodied wound on her side. “It’s more than a scratch, I guess.”

Ghost’s expression darkened. “We need to get you patched up.”

“I’m fine,” Y/N insisted. “We’re almost out.”

Ghost’s grip on her arm tightened. “You’re not going to be fine if we don’t stop and treat that wound. You’re not going anywhere until I’ve had a chance to look at it.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, seeing the genuine worry in Ghost’s gaze. “Alright, alright. Just… make it quick. I don’t want to be the one holding us up.”

Ghost led her to a secluded area away from the compound’s lights. He pulled out a first-aid kit from his pack and began to work with steady hands. Despite the urgency of their situation, there was a careful precision to his movements.

Y/N winced as he cleaned the wound, but she maintained her joking demeanor. “You know, Ghost, I always thought you were just a big, scary mask. Turns out you’re actually quite the tender medic.”

Ghost’s focus didn’t waver. “Just keep talking so I can keep my mind off how stupid you were to get yourself injured.”

Y/N laughed softly, despite the pain. “I had to keep you on your toes. Can’t let you get too comfortable.”

Ghost finished bandaging the wound and gave her a stern look. “You’re lucky I’m not dragging you back to base myself.”

Y/N’s expression softened, a rare moment of vulnerability showing through. “Thanks, Ghost. For everything.”

He nodded, his expression hidden behind the mask but his eyes softening slightly. “Let’s get out of here.”

They continued their escape, Ghost’s tactical expertise guiding them through the chaos. Despite Y/N’s injury, she managed to keep pace, her determination evident. Finally, they reached the extraction point, where a helicopter waited to whisk them away.

As they boarded the chopper, Y/N looked over at Ghost. “Next time, let’s aim for a mission without the dramatic escape.”

Ghost allowed himself a rare, brief smile. “I’ll see what I can do. But don’t push your luck, Y/N.”

The helicopter lifted off, the jungle receding beneath them. Y/N leaned back in her seat, exhausted but relieved. Ghost sat across from her, his gaze steady and watchful.

“You know,” Y/N said, her voice tired but content, “I think I might actually owe you two drinks now.”

Ghost’s smile widened, though it remained hidden behind his mask. “I’ll hold you to that. But next time, let’s just stick to the mission.”

Y/N chuckled, despite the pain. “Deal.”

As the helicopter soared through the night, Ghost kept a vigilant watch, his concern for Y/N evident in every glance. In the world they operated in, trust and teamwork were their strongest assets, and he knew that their bond was forged in the heat of combat, strengthened by every mission they undertook.

And though the night had been fraught with danger and uncertainty, Ghost found a moment of solace in the knowledge that they had made it through—together.

[voidmade]

Material objects i've discovered/rediscovered/am still enamored with within the last year:

-dancer shorts: it took me a bit to be comfortable with wearing these outside but it's the ultimate summer comfort piece, and so multifunctional!

-jewelry-like purse

-Nike x Comme des Garcons heel sneakers: my friend who used to work at Nike showed me these pre-release and i was sneering so hard but i woke up one day wanting them and it's been nothing but love ever since

-fur vests: loved them for a long time but this fall&winter they truly showed me how wonderful they are as layers for cold weather

-Gods and Kings: The Rise and Fall of Alexander McQueen and John Galliano by Dana Thomas : incredibly researched and so captivating, it will open your eyes abt these designers' works!

-Fashion at the Edge by Caroline Evans: another incredible research into the experimental runway shows of the 90s and 00s, dealing with darker themes and controversial fashion

-Dior Backstage foundation : happily committed for nearly 4 years, and with each and every use i am reminded why i love it so much

-Rom&nd Milk Tea Velvet Tint (in shades Earl Grey Tea and Black Tea): i always wear it as a lipstick in a nice thick layer, i just adore these shades

-Ben Nye white eyeshadow

-oil perfume:generic from my local arab produce store and a bit more high end, Oud Attar Discovery Collection - i never got as many compliments on my perfume since i started using oil perfumes, the scent lasts ALL day and it always fills whatever room i am in, my dream of being a walking incense stick came true!

-Accutane:yeah this one's a life-changer ngl...and side effects weren't that bad!

-bar soaps(two i have recently purchased, regular Aleppo soap and Tobacco scented soap from Alchimia)-rediscovering them after being a long time user of just liquid soap&shower gel, yes it feels a lot more sustainable, less waste, they last longer, plus the wonderful feeling of holding a new bar of soap, its weight and volume....yeah

-Palmer's Cocoa Butter lotion: i tried other lotions this year but i have to keep coming back to this one, it's so nourishing, easy to find, and always smells divine!

-Kose Softymo Speedy Cleansing Oil: it's so popular for a good reason

-Supermilk conditioning spray from Lush: your hair will smell sooo good

-gourmand scented incense: don't be scared of stronger scents, because the smell will linger in your place even the day after you've burned these...in my house it always does!

-domestic sewing machine: i finally got one this year and it's so comforting to be able to work on clothing at home as well! Plus a good skill to hone especially since my prediction senses tell me homemade clothing will be big soon enough, after we all get sick of fast fashion/trend cycles/insane vintage resell market/clothing fitting poorly etc

[somanywips]

Silly headcanons I have for Sanji and other strawhats:

Sanji has Terrible handwriting. He writes solely in cursive and he writes as if he has milk on the stove (aka really fucking fast) so his handwriting is almost unreadable. Robin is the only one who can read it, mostly because her own handwriting also fucking sucks.

Nami has the prettiest handwriting you've ever seen, but she writes So Fucking Slow and that's because she draws her letters.

Ussop's favorite art media is actually gouache paint, but he doesn't use them much because the humidity made them basically melt so he mostly uses acrylics and oil paints, as well as pastels.

Everyone has touch related sensory issues, with the exception of Franky. However, most foods just have really icky texture to him, and he didn't manage to fix it when he became a cyborg, but he's always down to work with Sanji to try out new foods so his diet isn't just burgers and cola.

Zoro is, for whatever reason, really good at embroidery. Like, he can make really intricate stuff but usually gets bored halfway through and goes back to training. It comes in handy when he's injured tho!

Sanji has this really really thick North Blue accent (either Spanish or Polish) when he's just woken up and not even because He's originally from the North, but because Zeff is, and Zeff has the heaviest accent in the world. It's kinda funny cause his accent sounds Nothing like the one from Germa (French)

Robin's the one who speaks the most languages out of all the Strawhats, having a good understanding of about 10 different languages and being fluent in other 6. Nami and Sanji tie in second place being fluent in four languages each, English, German, Polish and the common language in OP (aka Japanese) for Nami and French, Spanish (from Spain), Portuguese (from Angola) and the common language for Sanji, Franky's in third with 3 languages (English, Spanish [mexican]) with the other members only knowing 2 (Yoruba for Ussop, Russian for Chopper, Portuguese [Brazilian] for Luffy, Korean for Zoro, German for Brook and Swahili for Jimbe, all of them speak the common Japanese as well).

Zoro helps Nami with the accounting of the ship. They're both scarily good at maths (not even like basic maths, no, they both be doing integrals and shit). Ussop and Franky are also very good at it, but on a more practical sense, Franky is also really good at physics, while Ussop should be getting a masters in chemistry. Chopper is obviously very good at biology and (organic) chemistry.

Sanji is Not good at maths. He knows the basics, enough to do what he need to do, but put anything more than a simple equation (the ax+b one) and he's gone -> he actually didn't get any formal education besides the one from Germa, but he couldn't keep up with his brothers (aka they were teaching a toddler in the same pace they would adults, and the Vinsmoke children are basically copy machines) and his time in the rock severely impacted his development. Zeff taught him what he could, but he himself also didn't get any formal education. They both never really needed it, so it wasn't really an issue. They both know a Lot about nutrition and anatomy, tho (they just don't use technical terms).

Nami also didn't have any formal education, but she taught herself a lot of things from books and sheer stubbornness. All her knowledge of climate, weather patterns, and navigation are 100% self-taught

Sanji is a walking fish encyclopedia

Zoro is a walking Sword encyclopedia

Ussop can solve rubiks cubes in less than 1 minute and refuses to tell Luffy and Chopper how he does it

Luffy has a really good nose, he can pick out individual smells really easily so he always knows when Sanji bought more meat and what kind of meat he bought

Robin is Really bad at dancing, like really really bad, but she makes up for it with enthusiasm

Okay that's it for now kswkoqql. I have a lot more, especially for Sanji but that's because he's my wife

[sugar-omi]

Can you imagine what partner/group projects would be like with the Cove and MC in school?? (Ignoring the indifferent route) At school Cove sticks to the MC’s side like glue so imagine whenever the teacher announces that the class has to partner up or choose group members to do a project Cove just SPRINTS to stand beside you and grabs your hand to ask if you can work together (In step 1 I can just see Cove side eyeing any other group members that he has to work with) But also if the teachers like “Oh but you can’t choose who you work with it’s assigned” poor Cove will just complain to you the entire time if you end up not being able to work together, he’s all pouty like >:(

well if its in step 2, you get things done

not without lots of joking and daydreaming, but it gets done eventually

whereas in step 3, dating or crush, there's lots of flirting n hushed giggles.... like nothing gets done LMAO

either way (although especially in step 3) teachers get tired of your shit and decide to assign partners just to get everyone to socialize with others n blah blah blah

(i can barely say this bc i hate it sm!!! i was and am very shy so teachers forcing me outta my bubble had me fucked.... yes im traumatized jus thinking abt it omg i hate teachers, they think they know what theyre doing but this is a lot more damaging than they think ANYWAY MOVING ON OKOK)

cove will fret abt it the whole day, is dreading doing the assignment bc they wanna do it with you and not some stranger or some mean/rowdy classmate

omg during step 1 he's so clingy too, starts moving towards you for any group or pair assignment

at some point snaps abt how its ridiculous they're forcing him to be friends with other kids bc he doesn't like them like that n they don't like him like that and why force a shy kid to do smth they dont want.....

yeah your parents have to keep going to school to talk w the teacher abt this, its tough

by step 3 he can put up with it, but he's texting you like the whole time or getting ready to see you and if his group mates complain its "i did my part of the assignment."

can't even complain bc he did it and he did it right

when you do work together it's the most coordinated shit ever

somehow, even between lots of goofing around and a bit of flirting it gets done on time and if you have to present its done right

you're coordinated, n like a oiled machine

like i said cove takes on whatever you can't

i saw a post, cant rmbr if it was a tweet or a tiktok but he's the type that can't speak up bc they got his order wrong but will go ask the waiter for sauce for you

if its for the same class n assignment, you'll go look for the books n stuff you need together at least

and if you can work on it at home, you will put your parts of the assignment for your group together before you turn it in

omg especially in step 3 he acts like its the end of the world istg he's so dramatic

afterwards will fall over you n is like "omg we barely made it"

like bro. you had to play *insert bullshit gym activity* with another person for like 30 mins more or less CALM DOWN

just comfort him a bit n play along w his exaggeration n its okay <3