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longing-for-the-past-times · 1 year ago

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The four times you fell asleep on Ghost and the one time Ghost fell asleep on you - two.

simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

word count: 3,157 (got a bit carried away)

synopsis: after a mission, you and Ghost end up in a safe house, waiting for exfil. Both of you are exhausted after two days of being under the fire, but will any of you give in to exhaustion?

notes: I definitely did not expect so much support on the first part, so thank you very much, I really don't know what to say. I hope you enjoy this as much as the first part!

reader's callsign is Bambi (she/her)

find it on ao3 part one part two part three part four part five

masterlist

two.

You hadn't slept properly in two days, but at least the mission was a success. As successful as a mission can be when you have to spend the night in a deserted safe-house, in the middle of nowhere, waiting for exfil.

At least you were not alone, you reasoned, as you lay on the ragged couch and pulled out your sniper rifle. And perhaps you could get some shut-eye before dawn if your partner would assign you to the first watch.

There was a catch though. The person you ended up in the safe house with was none other than your Lieutenant, Ghost. And after the embarrassing scene where you fell asleep on him on base last week, you were mortified to be in his presence, especially when you were alone and there was no one there to fill the awkward silence that would settle in. He hadn't even teased you about it—only that one time, immediately after you groggily awoke on his shoulder.

The memory of the moment lingered in the back of your mind: the exaggerated way in which he rolled his shoulder, as if to emphasize your weight almost put his arm to sleep, and the glint in his eyes, perhaps delighted to catch you off-guard. If you hadn’t been so busy avoiding him for the following days, you would have noticed his slight shift in demeanour towards you. Whenever you were in the same room, his gaze would linger on you, his eyes visibly softening as if he was silently reliving the scene. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but after he had the time to fully process the interaction, he’d felt oddly satisfied with himself - he made you feel safe and protected, even if it was only for a fleeting moment.

So why wouldn’t you look him in the eye when he tried to speak with you?

“You can go rest, L.T., I’ll take the first watch!”

He definitely did not want to give you that look, not when it had been two days since you’d last exchanged any words with him. But he was stubborn, and you were also stubborn, and the last thing he wanted was to argue with you.

“There’s a bed in the other room. You can rest there till they get us out.”

So he chose his preferred tactic: deflect your words, plainly overlook them, as if they were merely a background noise in the conversation.

He did not miss the way your shoulders tensed up or that you’d stopped cleaning your sniper riffle. The fact that your breath stilled was not lost on him, but he kept pretending he was busy checking his own riffle as if it would determine you to listen to his words and get some well-deserved rest. And yes, he was stubborn. But you were more than stubborn. And you had also won several debate competitions in high school:

“I was only involved in surveillance, I believe I am rested enough to take at least the first watch!" “We are not having this conversation, Sergeant!”, Simon rolled his eyes in annoyance, all too aware that you were only beginning your argument. “You haven't slept in two days!” “Well, technically I was in a position that allowed me to rest more than you! I was literally resting on my belly for most of the time while you were out there, in the line of fire!” "We both know that's not how it works, Bambi!", he let out a frustrated groan that made you widen your eyes in his direction. It was the second time he expressed himself in such an uncharacteristic way, not even seeming to be bothered afterwards by the sudden display of emotion.

But that did not make you back down. Instead, you propped your sniper riffle on the small coffee table, purposefully ignoring him as you busied yourself making the necessary adjustments so that it pointed towards the middle of the wooden door. Anyone who would try to barge in without identifying themselves would be pierced by your bullets before realising what was actually going on. Ghost placed his skull mask on the same table and discarded most of his heavy gear, until he remained in the tactical vest, a basic black balaclava covering his face. As he got up from the couch to check on his ammo, you also started to get rid of the heavy layers of your sniper gear, most of which was covered in grass and dirt. You wouldn't even bother to clean it up when you got back to the base - the messier it was, the more realistic it looked on the field. As you were checking that all knives were in their sheaths, your gaze fell on the skull plate casually tossed next to your riffle. You were so used to it being plastered to Ghost’s face that seeing it carelessly thrown on the table seemed out of place, inexplicably domestic even. The more you thought of it, the more you realised that you’d never seen it anywhere but on his face - he must have kept it stowed away somewhere when you were stationed at the base.

If you were sane and did not have a death wish, you would have at least asked for permission before leaning in to touch it. No, scratch that, the thought of the action itself would not even cross your mind: no one touched L.T.'s mask, whether it was on his face or not. But you were exhausted, the two days of constantly being on the lookout, with little news of your team, starting to take a toll on you. And the sight of splattered blood across the cracked white surface was troubling enough to make you let your guard down and start scrubbing the mask vigorously with your sleeve, in a seemingly futile effort.

You were so concentrated on the task at hand, eyebrows etched into a deep frown, that you did not notice the creeping silhouette that was lingering in the doorway. The sight of a 6'2" man, coming to stand directly in front of you with his arms crossed in a suggestive stance was completely lost on you as you kept rubbing your palm against the red stains, huffing in annoyance when they did not seem to go away. He must have been involved in some form of close combat as the blood clearly wasn’t his and although you knew he was more than capable of taking care of himself, the thoughts of what could have been if he hadn’t paid enough attention, or if he’d been outnumbered plagued your mind. You were not supposed to worry about him like that. He was just your superior.

And also the person you fell asleep on once.

In the meantime, Simon was at a loss for words. He too was tired, having spent the last 48 hours being shot at and almost stabbed a couple of times. And perhaps, if he had to spend the night with someone like Soap, he might have gone to sleep for a couple of hours, letting the demolition expert keep watch. But he couldn’t allow himself such a liberty when you came into the equation- the need to protect you, to keep you from harm’s way was too intense, almost burning inside him. He could not fathom the thought of trying to rest with you having to spend the night in alert, on the lookout for any potential enemies. It was not that he did trust you with such a task, he was aware you were fully capable of it, but it just didn't sit well with him.

Yet there you were, your hands holding a piece of him. More than a couple of years have passed since he'd donned the persona of Ghost and the mask that you rubbed your knuckles against was an integral part of it. Never before had someone dared to touch his mask, he knew that everyone was too scared of it, of the persona he'd created through countless missions and stories. He was used to hearing people whispering behind his back, scrawny recruits sloppily pointing at the skull plate he'd spent an entire night stitching to a balaclava. He was also aware of the bets made on that topic and the gossip that claimed he must have been some kind of mutant, his physical features too grotesque to be displayed to the world.

There was a time when he himself did not know why he was wearing it, but the familiar weight on his face was a comforting sensation, a lover's embrace. That was the moment he knew he was becoming one with Ghost. That, and the fact that people couldn't tell his mood based on his facial expressions anymore. It was sort of liberating, not having to be judged based on what your face looked like at a certain moment.

He slightly tilted his head to the side, both amazed and alarmed that you hadn't noticed him yet. He hoped it was because you didn't think of him as a threat, not because your situational awareness was dimmed as your exhaustion increased. And he had to bite back a smile when he heard you mutter a string of curses under your breath when the crimson stains didn't seem to go away. Should he tell you only bleach does the job?

He decided to keep that secret to himself, loudly clearing his throat to get your attention. At that point, he was willing his eyes to stay inexpressive in spite of his lips twitching as your reaction to him was worthy of your callsign.

You couldn't help but flinch at the sudden intrusion, quickly placing the mask back on the table. You gave Ghost a tight-lipped smile, all too aware of the heat that was spreading across your face, your eyes resembling those of a deer caught in the headlights.

"I'm so sorry, Lieutenant, definitely did not mean to pry like that!', you profusely apologised, trying, but failing, to not look into his dark orbs.

Those damned eyelashes, why did they have to be so perfect?

But Ghost was too distracted by your doe eyes that he did not process your words properly. He wouldn't ask you to repeat whatever you'd just said, but he also did not want to ignore you, not when you spoke to him more than you did in a week, so he said the first thing that came to his mind: one of his army puns.

"Why did the mask go to therapy?"

You blinked back at him, not quite accepting that he'd simply brush it off like that. But his look was so expectant, almost willing you to answer what you knew was going to be one of his bad dad jokes, that you had no choice but to gesture him he could go on.

“It had too much 'bloody' emotional baggage.”

You cringed visibly at the reply, letting out a small sigh as you sat back on the couch, with him plopping next to you:

"Not gonna lie, but that was really bad, Ghost!"

He gave you his usual unimpressed look and you could see his balaclava shifting as he opened his mouth to answer, but a huge yawn interrupted him. A huge yawn that you tried to cover with both of your hands and that made you give him a sheepish look, that of a naughty child who pretends to be innocent.

"Wanna hear another?" "Oh God, spare me-" "Why did the tired operator try to stay awake during the mission?"

It was your turn to look unimpressed. He was definitely making it up on the go.

"Because she thought falling asleep on the job would be a 'mission impossible'."

His balaclava may have been on, but his eyes were sparkling again, a small glimpse of amusement in them. You wished you'd known a couple of one-liners just to be able to keep that glimmer as it was.

"You're really enjoying yourself, aren't you?" "All I'm trying to say is that you should get some rest, Bambi. I know you think I'm also tired, and believe me, I am, but you know what do two tired operators make?"

If you were taken aback by the amount of words he put into that sentence, you did not let it show. Instead, you caught on the quip and dutifully replied:

"Two dead ones." "You're a quick learner. So just get some sleep, even half an hour would do it. In the bed, on the couch, hell, even on the floor if that's what you want-" "Ok, ok, you got me, Ghost! But on one condition!" "Let's hear it." "When I wake up, it's your turn to rest. Two tired operators are dead operators, but one rested and one tired operator are just as much!"

The defeated mumble that you got as a response made you smirk, purposefully avoiding his determined gaze, currently set on you. Shaking your head in defeat, you trudged to the bedroom, took the weighted blanket from the bed and placed it on the couch, unaware that Ghost had scooted over to make you more space. It was not a complete success, he'd rather you took the bed that at least had a mattress more comfortable than the springs from the couch, but he would make the compromise. And you would be sleeping in his presence again, not that he had any feelings, good or bad, towards it. He would just relish in the vulnerability of the moment and his role as your protector.

"Alright, wake me up in 30!", you warned him as you got under the blanket, leaning on the arm of the couch, bracing your knees to your chest.

The deep hum you got as an answer sent a soothing sensation down your spine, and you couldn't help but smile as you cuddled up in the fetal position you chose. Deep down, a part of you felt selfish for giving in to the weariness, but the Lieutenant was right: fatigue led to mistakes which could lead to getting you killed.

Besides, you would also make sure he got some rest before morning. You were confident you could do it, you just didn't know how. Yet.

***

The mark of half an hour came and went, but Simon did not shift from his rigid position facing the entry of the safe house. He couldn't bring himself to wake you, not when the faint noises you occasionally let out were a testament to how much you needed the break. And it was not like he could have slept as peacefully as you did - now that he had time to think and reassess the mission, his mind was plagued by alternate scenarios and what-ifs. What if Laswell's intel pointed them to the second building in the compound instead of the first, and they would have been blown up to pieces as soon as they'd broken in? What if Soap hadn't warned him through comms of the two hostiles that were headed towards him, from his blind spot? What if someone had noticed that their men were falling even when no one in the building was shooting at them, and sent someone to look for the sniper positioned nearby?

His trail of thoughts was interrupted when he felt a familiar weight near his leg. He momentarily froze and had to make an effort to look down at the couch and see that your head was resting dangerously close to his leg, your hair gently brushing against his worn-down tactical pants. You must have somehow shifted in your sleep, as the weighted blanket you covered yourself with was forgotten on the floor, your left arm hanging limply on one side of the couch. You were lying on your back, soft snores leaving from your half-open mouth, and all Simon could think of was that your head was almost in his lap.

Why did he want it to be there? He recalled your embarrassment when you fell asleep on his shoulder, back at the base. You would be mortified if you woke up with your head in his lap, and tactically speaking, it would make it harder for him to react to an immediate threat. Then why was he craving the contact like he craved the feeling of the sun on his face on those first days he wore the mask?

Another hour passed and Ghost had no intent of waking you up. You truly must have been exhausted, he thought to himself, as he took in your soft snores and occasionally small sighs. The night was dark and silent, and the only source of light that trickled into the room was a dingy lamppost from across the road.

Eventually, Ghost let his eyes wander over your sleeping silhouette, hooded eyes hungrily lingering over the delicate details accentuated by the faint glow. And in that moment, you were as boundless as the sea and vast as the universe. You were lost in a world woven from your dreams, while he, awake and aware, found himself trapped in a dream of his own. And he was in deep that he did not realise when he let his arm rest above yours, leaning his head onto the back of the couch. The grip on his combat knife remained firm, ready to jump into action if needed, but his eyelids were heavy, too heavy for his liking and the soft cadence of your breathing was too inviting. He would only rest his eyes for a bit, not that he could fall asleep like this. He shouldn’t fall asleep like this, not when he is supposed to keep you safe.

The faint crackling of your communications could be heard across the room, mingling with the sunbeams that filtered through the heavy curtains. Grunting in annoyance, you rolled on your side, looking for the blanket you’d covered yourself in earlier. It took your mind a moment to register you were not in your bed, but on a couch, yet it was too late to prevent you from rolling into thin air, the heavy thud of you falling on the floor reverberating across the room.

Ghost opened his eyes in an instant, eyes promptly directed to where you had been sleeping. The absence of your body sent his half-asleep mind into a frenzy, hands scrambling for a weapon which he pointed to the floor. His cold gaze softened when he saw your bleary-eyed figure, a smile dancing on his lips as he took in the string of curses you kept muttering under your breath.

“Watcher 1 to Bravo 0-7, how copy? Exfil’s inbound your way. I say again, exfil’s inbound your way.”

Not taking his eyes off you, Ghost pressed the button on his comms, wishing he had Soap’s Polaroid at hand:

“Bravo 0-7 to Watcher 1, copy.”

taglist: @neoarchipelago

#ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost mw2 #cod ghost #task force 141 #ghost imagine #ghost fluff #simon riley fluff #call of duty imagine

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avelera · 25 days ago

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Theory: Why Jayce had to attack Cult Leader Viktor

It's a lot of conjecture, and I'm possibly reading more into the scene than the show intended, but I keep thinking about why Viktor abandoned Jayce in Arcane in 2.02, only to be glad to see him later and wish to meet in person. So here's what I'm thinking:

We actually got confirmation that "Sky" was the Hexcore all along.

We have Viktor saying that he left because he was "clouded by emotion". (Bookmark this one because I'm going to make the case that it was the opposite: that this moment was actually Viktor's choice and it was to protect Jayce on a subconscious level, because the Hexcore later welcomes Jayce back and wants to see him in person, in an attempt to assimilate him.)

We have some signs that there were weapons blueprints on the table, namely Cait's sniper rifle, which some fans pointed out could have been upsetting for Viktor to see, enough for him to leave. Certainly S1 Viktor was horrified by the idea of Hextech weaponry.

But, Viktor will later offer his assimilation robot army to Ambessa. And his robots are extremely effective Hextech weapons on their own, even if he sees them as peaceful assimilators, they are brutally effective in a pinch, judging just by the fact that it took Mel AND Jayce to take down Viktor's proxy robot in the Council chamber. So there is some hypocrisy shenanigans going on there with "no Hextech weapons." Unless, of course, it's Viktor who is against weapons and the Hexcore who is in favor of them, and sells the idea to Viktor by making the case that robot assimilation is a "peaceful" use of Hextech.

Now, if you go back to the Sky meta shared above, Showrunner Christian Linke says the Hexcore is the one who wants the Glorious Evolution. It's the one that wants to spread and give Viktor more power and influence. And the reason Sky took off was because its mission was done, Viktor had accepted the Glorious Evolution and the power Singed offered. It no longer needed to project "Sky" at him to string him along into doing what it wanted.

In general, there's a lot that's weird about what happens to Viktor after he leaves the lab. A man of science starting a cult is weird. The glowing footsteps he sees on the way to the shimmer victim shanty town are weird. It's notable that shimmer was what was needed for Viktor's own initial fusing with the Hexcore, so going after shimmer addicts is the perfect way to ensure that assimilation, if you're the Hexcore and you want to grow yourself.

We also have Viktor's voice which fades in and out of robotic monstrousness depending on what he's saying. It crackled over it just being "affection" keeping him and Jayce together. As the Machine Herald in 2.09, it mostly stays monstrous, but it drops down into his own voice, in a whisper without the overlay, when he calls the war around them a "senseless conflict". That feels like a true belief held by Viktor, rather than the will of a Hexcore that wants to spread, multiply, and assimilate everything.

And here's the kicker for me: why didn't Viktor heal Jayce when Jayce hugged him in that room? Jayce's wounds were pronounced and horrible from Renni's chainsaw, there's no way Viktor could have missed them. And why didn't he take the opportunity to assimilate Jayce, since they had skin to skin contact?

This is where I'd argue that it's because Viktor still was more himself at that point. And it could be argued that one reason he ran out of that room was to protect Jayce, on a subconscious level, from being assimilated.

The Hexcore-pretending-to-be-Sky needed to gradually seduce Viktor into going along with assimilation. It posed assimilation as healing, it showed Viktor the suffering of the shimmer addicts and the undercity in general. It played to Viktor's life long desire to make the world a better place, but it feels wrong because it's through mysticism rather than science.

And then, I would argue, once it had convinced Viktor to enact its plan by "healing" people to grow its power and influence, it wanted Jayce next as another addition to the cult and perhaps to incorporate one of the few people who could stop it. So it was not Viktor necessarily inviting Jayce back to the commune, it was the Hexcore posing as Viktor. I'm sure part of Viktor did want to see Jayce again, but we have to juxtapose the oddness of that moment with how Viktor soon after the transformation got as far away from Jayce as possible.

It would make sense, then if Wizard Viktor when he gave his instructions to Jayce really did need to be adamant that Jayce destroys Cult Leader Viktor rather than talk to him. Because Cult Leader Viktor was seductive, and he had just enough of real Viktor's motives and personality left to make a seductive case for Jayce that this was the way for Hextech to help the world.

So Jayce couldn't hesitate, he couldn't let Cult Leader Viktor (who is an unknowing instrument of the Hexcore's desire to expand itself) get a word in edgewise because of how quickly that Viktor could probably seduce Jayce into joining him. Hence the brutality and speed of the attack.

Because Cult Leader Viktor did have to be destroyed. The cult was never a good thing. The good that was left in Viktor was heading towards the disappointment of his ideals shortly in any case, either through running out of power, or from Ambessa's imminent attack. Jayce joining Viktor's cult would have doomed the world and the only way to keep him from joining was to fight rather than talk to Viktor, and that went against every fiber of Jayce's being, because Cult Leader Viktor was almost literally designed in a lab to get Jayce to surrender to him rather than fight him.

And I think we should be really suspicious of how freshly transformed Viktor pushed Jayce away, while Cult Leader Viktor wanted to pull him back in, especially with the implication that it was the Hexcore that wanted to assimilate Jayce in that moment, and just how effective it would have been at seducing Jayce into accepting assimilation if not for Future Viktor's explicit warning.

#jayvik #arcane #arcane meta #arcane spoilers

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mail-me-a-snail · 3 months ago

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a blu engie guide since i got some questions on the last art i posted ☝️

prior to the first ever match, he, with the help of the administrator, secretly took red team's dna and cloned them to make blu team

everyone on blu team is a clone except for him, but he pretends he's a clone, too, so they stay loyal to him and builder's league

meanwhile, red engineer, unbeknownst to him, is the only clone on the red team of originals

red engineer was created both only to reinforce blu engineer's coverup story and to make sure each team had an equal number of nine people on it

he believes he's the original engineer and doesn't understand why blu engie is so detached and aloof. it's very unlike him

after many long trials and failed experiments, blu sniper was the first clone ever made

and he's also blu engie's proudest creation, since he retained all of the muscle memory of his counterpart

blu engie watches over the whole team as their leader and checks in with them individually every now and again, just to make connections and see if they've started slipping or not

when they do, however, he takes them out of respawn range and...

well, that was in blu's early days; when things were still bad.

these days, he doesn't have to go through that whole mess anymore

but blu sniper doesn't trust him like he used to

isn't quick to trust him like the other one did

#tf2 #blu engie #my sillyyyy my silly #my writing #my post

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tommykinard6 · 8 months ago

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Should I be eating and resting? Yes. Am I? No, so come join me for a dissertation on Tommy Kinard being lonely.

Edit to add a note since I saw a reblog about it: Tommy has no canonical age right now and Lou is 39, 40 later this year, so that is my basis for saying he’s 39.

Now when I say lonely, I don’t mean that he has no one whatsoever. I can picture him going for drinks with his team or having some Muay Thai buddies that he could call up if he really was inclined. Maybe an old army buddy or two.

But there’s something about Tommy that’s just achingly lonely, both when he was at the 118 and now at Harbor.

Tommy had a broken home, or some other kind of unstable childhood. Maybe his parents split, maybe he was mistreated, maybe he was in the system or was passed around family members. Maybe he was isolated as a child because he was a little overweight (I think Lou said something along those lines) and was bullied. I think Tommy didn’t really have any friends until high school, when puberty hit and maybe he started working out and probably joined the football team. I don’t know if anyone remembers what teenage boys are like, but I can imagine they were the same as they are today back in the 90s/early 00’s. Because around this time, Tommy might’ve started to realize that something was very different about him.

Now this isn’t a meta about how I think Tommy dealt with his sexuality (maybe I’ll do one of those later) but I think he never would’ve risked his football friends knowing even if he himself could acknowledge it, which I doubt. So he messed around, got in trouble with these guys, hung out with the bros, and pretended to be interested in girl talk.

Of course, eventually, his buddies all got girlfriends and he was always the odd one out again.

He didn’t do college. The army was his next step. And I feel like this might have been the first time in his life he wasn’t lonely. He’d learned to blend in by this point and he worked with some great people. But as he started making real friends for the first time, he also started losing them as the war tore them away.

Tommy left the army and joined the fire department. There was an aching hole where the camaraderie of the army had filled previously and with no education beyond a high school diploma, Tommy thought the fire department would replicate that. Not the police though. He’d had enough of guns.

(And ohhhh now so many ideas on his thoughts during the sniper)

But he ended up at the 118 and quickly realized that his team had maybe more of a DADT stance than the army. He realized that he had to put on an elaborate act to fool his fellow firefighters, who had more time on their hands and more prejudice they were willing to wield to pick apart his life. Tommy, who maybe had only just started to acknowledge he felt differently about guys with less panic than before, had no choice but to backslide. He acted and acted and crafted a person he wasn’t until the day that maybe he was. Sal was his closest buddy at the 118 and Tommy had no doubt that Sal would be one of the first to make his life hell. Gerrard seemed to look at Tommy as some sort of mentee. Boxed in by two notorious bigots, Tommy had never felt more claustrophobically alone.

Chim was the first one to reach out a hand of friendship, or at least the first one that didn’t come with caution tape, but he was also an “other” and Tommy, who was confused and afraid and had just had his captain call his bluff on his fake girlfriend, lashed out. Then he allowed Chim in and Chim wasn’t interested in being besties but he was a great drinking buddy and movie buddy and Tommy felt safest around him.

Then Hen came and Tommy watched her get the same treatment he was afraid of. Not that he had to worry about the racism, and he was aware of the privilege, but Hen didn’t exactly hide herself and he watched them bully his lesbian coworker. He let himself get pulled into it all and hated himself for it, but was too cowardly to break away from it. He wasn’t sure why Hen had forgiven him, but she became the only other person on shift he felt even a little safe around other than Howie. But then Chimney and Hen became best friends and Tommy fell to the wayside. They still included him, sure, but they were always a pair and there was something there that Tommy didn’t know but longed for. A closeness he’d never felt.

A best friend. A juvenile idea to him, but one he’d never truly had.

Then Gerrard was gone and Sal got transferred and the 118 moved forward under Captain Nash, but Tommy felt left behind, even in what was the most united A shift team yet. Because he was over 30 and was starting to be unable to ignore everything that he’d had to hide under Gerrard, as he no longer had a distraction from it.

He’d been a pilot in the army, so he transferred to Harbor. And Harbor was great. He wasn’t best buds with anyone (he was starting to think that was never in the cards for him) but his team didn’t carry the same baggage that the 118 had.

So Tommy started to come to terms with himself. He started to date for the first time and came out to his team. And he had several boyfriends, but most couldn’t handle the job or his baggage or the desperate need he had to be wanted. His most long term partner cheated and the one he fell hardest for couldn’t deal when Tommy was injured on the job. Even within his own relationships, he felt like he was destined to stand alone.

Tommy was 39 years old and alone, as always, when Chimney walked back into his life, dragging an adorable and also extremely hot blonde and a stoic brunette that radiated ex military in a way only ex military could know. And then Hen was there and they were trying to rescue their captain and his wife and they clearly loved each other fiercely and like family.

And as Tommy listened, flying through the remnants of a cat 5 hurricane, he thought to himself that he should’ve never left. Simply just never found himself if only that meant being part of the family the 118 was now. However, he knew deep down that he still would’ve been alone and on the outside.

And they rescued the survivors and Tommy thought that was it but then Eddie wanted to hang out. And they liked the same things and had similar experiences and Tommy couldn’t help the hope. Because the loneliness had grown stifling and now he could breathe a little. And then Evan, the cute blonde, wanted a tour of the hanger and he thought that maybe he was being hit on.

And then at the end of it all, Tommy was left realizing that he’d wedged himself between two best friends and that was what happened when he allowed himself to hope. So he went to Evan to apologize. He would get Evan and Eddie to talk to each other and then would fade into the background.

But then Evan was sweet and apologetic and told him that he was part of the 118 family simply by helping them. Tommy couldn’t help it. Here he was, at 39, with a little boy still waiting inside of him to be soothed. And Evan was hot and sweet and Tommy couldn’t help himself.

And he really liked Evan. Evan was adorable. But their first date didn’t go as planned and Tommy knew he was already whipped. So he removed himself before someone could get hurt. Evan deserved better and so did he, even if the loneliness was stifling again.

But then Evan texted him and looked at him with sparkling blue eyes over too sweet coffee and wanted him. Him. He wanted Tommy and to have something with Tommy and he wanted him to come to his sister’s wedding with him.

And Tommy looked at him and saw someone who could finally fill the ache he’d felt his whole life. He saw a man who he knew he wanted to take a chance with. All he had to do was jump.

And he did.

And it wasn’t solved, not immediately and never fully. Too many wounds were left gaping for too long to ever heal. But for the first time in his life, at 39, with the 118 surrounding him and Buck as the sunshine at his side, Tommy finally felt at peace.

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kitkatscabinet · 1 year ago

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Whumptober - 09: Human shield/hostage

Simon Riley x gn! reader

You’d fucked up.

It was as simple as that and if you somehow get out of this alive you knew Simon was going to have your fucking head for worrying him. That and he’d make your life a living hell of PT and combat training.

You don’t even know how you’re managing to think about your potentially grim and annoying future when there’s a gun barrel pressed into the back of your neck, digging into the cervical column of your spine.

Your knees sting from the cool cement you’ve been kneeling on for what feels like hours. They’re bloody and scraped to shit and your feet have long gone numb, attempts to wiggle your toes thwarted by the tingling pins and needles.

Your wrists and hands are hardly faring any better, the thick rope having cut off circulation and rubbed the skin bloody and raw from your escape attempt. The one that had earned you the butt of a rifle to the gut so hard you’d almost thrown up.

Sticky blood still drips down your forehead from where you’d been struck, pouring into your eye and rendering you half-blind.

Whatever plans your captors have are derailed when Simon, no, the Ghost barrels into the room, an entity out for blood. He stops the second he assesses the situation, placing his hands up in a surrendering gesture when the muzzle of the captor's rifle digs more harshly into your spine.

To the untrained eye, Ghost looked as calm as possible, seemingly barely phased by the scene in front of him. To you who knew him better than any living person, however, you knew that was far from the case.

You’re glad Ghost is wearing his hood, he’s always had such an expressive face. You’d seen the way his eyes, the ones that always stared at you so softly, had widened in panic before he’d composed himself.

He’s trying to defuse the situation or stall long enough for a sniper to get a good shot, which is unlikely given the incredibly small windows.

It had been nothing short of a miracle that you and Ghost had even been deployed on the same mission (lack of available personnel), and you couldn’t be more thankful if you tried. Not because you thought he’d be able to save you, no matter how much you hoped, but because selfishly it gave you one last opportunity to drink him in.

Desperately you prayed that Simon wouldn’t be forced to watch your brains splatter against the floor, though you can’t help but be glad that the last thing you see will be his eyes. The eyes that keep flickering back to yours to reassure you, though you think it's more for his benefit as he too memorises your features desperately.

It’s also his way of silently apologising for putting on such a cold front. Training indicated he had to pretend not to know you very well, otherwise, the first instance of his true feelings shining through would result poorly for the both of you. It would give the enemy even more leverage over the situation.

You can’t run the risk of nodding along or giving any indication that you understand and trust him more than anything, you just have to let it shine through on your mostly impassive face. They wouldn’t get to witness any of your panic, you wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

Negotiations don’t seem to be getting anywhere when you finally tune back into the conversation. The situation is incredibly grim and just as you are about to accept your death an ear-shattering shot echoes through the room.

You’d never be able to truly remember the next few seconds if you tried, adrenaline kicking into overdrive when your body hits the floor covered in blood before your brain registers that you are very not dead despite the gunfire.

Everyone turns to the man holding the gun to your head in confusion. One, two, three, four seconds pass as it registers that he had not been the one to fire. Instead, it’s his body hitting the floor with a thud as red sprays from his skull.

Those four seconds are all Ghost needs before he raises his rifle and takes out the other three men with a yell. It doesn’t take another four before he’s sliding onto his knees beside you, taking your head into his hands and pulling you against his chest as he pleads for you not to be dead.

Your eyes open through the blood that’s drenched your upper half and Simon inhales shakily in relief when you finally murmur that it’s not yours. Your face is buried against his neck and his arms ensnare your shoulders, holding you crushingly tight against him as his shoulders shake slightly.

You feel, because you can’t see anything past his vest, his head turn and his nose press tightly to your hairline as his breathing slowly evens out.

“S’ok. I’m ok, you saved me” Your voice is hoarse with unshed tears and stress that finally burst forth as the dam wall you’d been keeping up crumbles. Simon mumbles something but it’s too soft for you to hear, you don’t ask him to repeat it because you understand the sentiment.

His comms flare to life but Simon ignores them in favour of clutching you tighter against him, it takes you gently nudging him to answer for him to relent his grip even a little as he has to pull away a little to answer. Though he’s diving back against you almost instantly, this time he pulls off his mask, letting the bare skin of his nose press against your pounding pulse point.

You don’t make any move to push him away, even as your arms and legs ache from the position because you understand. You don’t doubt you’d be just as clingy and desperate had the roles been reversed.

Chin resting on his shoulder you speak softly and slowly, just for him. It’s a bunch of random nonsense that you won’t remember later but it doesn’t matter. It’s just another way to reassure him and you that you’re still alive and breathing.

That you aren’t going anywhere. Not yet, and if the world lets you have your way, not ever.

#cod simon riley #x reader #cod mw x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley #ghost

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greenglowinspooks · 1 year ago

Text

(DCxDP) Drowning in formaldehyde (Pt. 2)

—

Tw: canon-typical violence (Batman), emetophobia at one point

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

(Pt. 1)

(Masterlist/subscription post)

—

Danny sat in the back of one of the transport trucks currently on the way to Arkham, his hands in his lap.

So far, everything was going to plan.

About a quarter of the team had gotten themselves admitted into Arkham in the days leading up to the raid, carefully sneaking in supplies and weapons for both themselves and the rogues they were going to free.

Half of the team was on trucks, ready to storm the building with their fancy new tech. A couple others were keeping an eye out for the Bats, and the last one was holed up in a recently condemned building, ecto-modified sniper rifle in hand, ready to fire.

Danny’s hands were cold.

He hadn’t always run cold, from what he remembered. Even after he died—hell, even after he started developing his ice powers—he had always been warm.

Now, though, his body was freezing.

Maybe it was because of the ecto siphoning he and Derringer had done the day before.

He couldn’t make the ecto guns work without fueling them, after all, and the only ectoplasm he had access to was the stuff inside his body. So, he had Derringer hook him up to a GiW machine and filter the ecto out of his blood.

The process was excruciating.

Not only did he get light-headed from the loss of fluids, the machine also chilled his blood considerably during the filtering process, and when it was pumped back into his body, it was freezing. Derringer had to cover him with heating pads and thick blankets to get him to stop shaking.

Still, that had been a little over eighteen hours ago, so that probably wasn’t it.

Maybe it was just another side affect of his time with the GiW.

Overuse of his ghostly wail, he had realized earlier, was the reason that he had lost his voice permanently. Maybe he had accidentally used his ice too many times the same way, and now his body was irrevocably changed. Maybe warmth was just another tiny privilege he had taken for granted, that had now been lost forever.

Danny stared down at his hands.

Maybe his body had just given up entirely on keeping him warm, on pretending to be human.

“Kid, you alright? We’re almost there.”

Derringer’s voice snapped Danny out of his thoughts.

“Yeah,” Danny signed, “just tired. And cold.”

“We’ve got to get you a jacket, kid,” Derringer said, “it’s not even winter and I already have to worry about you freezing to death.”

“I died a long time ago, it’s fine.”

“No,” one of the other men in the truck drawled, “it means you’ve got to be extra careful. You’ve got a second chance at living, so you better not screw it up.”

“What did he say?”

“Danny thinks that because he’s died before, he doesn’t need to worry about freezing to death.”

The truck went quiet for a few moments. Most of the guys in there didn’t know he had died before. He didn’t exactly like to advertise the fact.

“I have a cousin who had a heart attack, and it only made his heart worse,” one of the guys near the front of the truck offered.

“See, kid?” Derringer said, “I’m right. As soon as this is over, you’re getting a jacket.”

Danny crossed his arms, slumping over in his seat with a huff.

A few moments later, a loud clang echoed through the truck. Danny jolted, almost falling out of his seat.

The door opened, the driver looking at them with boredom written all over his face.

“Alright, up and at em. It’s go time,” he mumbled, smacking the door loudly for emphasis. “The sooner we’re done, the sooner we can leave.”

They all stood, hopping out of the truck and making their way to the fence line.

Danny moved his hand to the bandolier on his chest, fingers brushing against the small ecto-bombs he had attached to it.

There were five of them, their bodies made of tempered glass and black steel, and they glowed a sickly green in the night. They were designed mainly for combat; he had a few larger ones meant to blow a hole in a wall in his backpack, which was securely zipped shut.

His hand then drifted to the holster on his left side, and the ecto-gun nestled securely within it.

Most of his parents’ inventions were far too big and bulky to be practical in any real combat setting, so he had downsized them considerably. The weapon he had was modeled after a standard glock pistol, matte black paint covering the GiW white of the gun’s body.

The gun should be able to fire around fifty shots a minute without overheating, which was more than enough for Danny. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to fire a single round tonight. However, for whatever reason, the words should and hopefully didn’t inspire much confidence in him.

Danny followed the group as they snuck up to the facility, Derringer by his side.

Originally, neither of them were going to go on the raid, but someone on the patient list had caught Danny’s eye, so he decided he would investigate in person. Derringer was just along for the ride because Mr. Cobblepot wasn’t willing to lose an asset as valuable as Danny.

Danny would make it up to the bodyguard later, he decided.

Entering Arkham was, all things considered, pretty easy. Mr. Cobblepot had connections to a few of the orderlies, and it was all too easy to convince them to “forget” a few steps in setting up the security system for the night.

However, since nothing can ever just be simple, they ran into an unexpected patrol of nightshift guards just a few minutes after all splitting up to find the rogues.

Danny and Derringer were able to take them down pretty quickly, but not before they sounded the alarms. And, according to a few guys on the comms, they weren’t the only ones to run into guards where they shouldn’t be.

“They must have changed their patrols,” Derringer huffed, spinning the pistol in his hands, “c’mon, let’s go see about freeing our good friend Victor Fries.”

Danny nodded, scampering after the man as he sprinted through the halls.

The inmates, who had woken up from the loud alarm’s continuous blaring, shouted at them from their cells. Danny’s pulse was loud in his ears, drowning everything out.

Distantly, he wondered if those guards were going to die. Maybe they were dead already.

He supposed that it didn’t really change much if they were.

Soon, they were at the cell. It was custom-built to hold Mr. Freeze, constantly kept at subzero temperatures to avoid killing him.

Derringer hefted his bag off of his back, pulling out the suit and freeze gun that Mr. Cobblepot had procured. As he did so, Danny took a few of the larger ecto-bombs and placed them on the joints of the door.

They carefully moved away, putting some distance between themselves and the door, and Danny detonated it.

The explosion was loud. It shook the entire building, the shockwave knocking Danny to the floor.

Danny brought his hand up to his safety goggles, yanking a small piece of metal shrapnel out of them and dropping it on the floor. He was dimly aware of more pieces sticking out of his kevlar suit. Derringer was similarly peppered with metal, luckily uninjured as well.

They had come from the body and mechanism of the bomb, he realized. He’d have to fix that later.

Mr. Freeze emerged from the cell a few moments later, a scowl on his face. Derringer quickly shoved the suit and freeze gun into his hands and he retreated back into the cell for a few moments, getting dressed.

“I could have died from that, you know,” he hissed. “Killed by some amateurs with shoddy explosives.”

“The Penguin sent us,” Derringer said, ignoring the man’s clear annoyance, “our getaway car is outside. If you’d come with us…”

Mr. Freeze nodded sternly.

“Hurry up, then.”

Derringer and Danny hurried out, Mr. Freeze right behind them. Then, at a certain hallway, Danny paused.

He had to check.

“Kid,” Derringer barked, “we have to go.”

Danny shook his head.

“You go,” he signed, hands trembling, “I have to check.”

“Oh, what’s the problem now?” Mr. Freeze asked, his frown more pronounced by the minute.

“Danny…” Derringer sighed, “Danny thinks his sister might be in here. He hasn’t seen her in years. It’s the whole reason he was a part of the Arkham raid, actually.”

Mr. Freeze paused for a moment.

“Well, lead the way, then,” he said, clearly regretting his words as soon as he said them. Danny just nodded, scurrying forward, the other two men close behind him.

They came to the right cell quickly. Danny looked in through the glass, and he felt a piece of himself shatter.

That was Jazz, his sister, sitting in a padded wall wearing a straightjacket and a muzzle.

She didn’t bother looking up at them as they arrived, not stirring even when Danny slammed his hands on the door to get her attention.

Shakily, he attached an ecto-bomb to the door, hoping with all his might that she wouldn’t get hurt.

The door blew open, and Danny rushed in.

Jazz’s head swiveled to look up at him, her eyes narrowed.

He slipped the goggles up and his bandanna down, exposing his face as he came to kneel beside her.

Slowly, her expression shifted to shock.

“Jazz,” he creaked, his broken vocal chords cracking painfully as he spoke, “it’s me.”

She looked at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Danny?”

He nodded, pulling her into a hug, careful not to let the shrapnel dig into her skin.

“I thought you were…”

“Very heartwarming,” Mr. Freeze snapped, “but now isn’t the time. We’ve got to go, now.”

Jazz nodded, leaping to her feet. Danny stood as well, slipping his mask and bandanna back on, and grabbing onto one of her arms for support.

They left the cell, Danny doing a double-take as he saw the frozen-over pathway that they had just come from. He looked to Mr. Freeze, tilting his head questioningly.

“There were guards,” he said flatly. “Now hurry up, we need to get out of here.”

Derringer grabbed the two of them, dragging them along as he sprinted through the hallways. They had to take a bit of a detour, coming out of the main entrance instead of the side one they had entered.

Unfortunately, there was an active gunfight going down.

Danny was roughly pulled behind a desk, just barely dodging a few rounds.

His hands shook as he pulled a small ecto-bomb from his bandolier, priming it and throwing it at a small grouping of night guards. They cried out as the pure ectoplasm collided with them, covering their bodies in burns.

The smell, while familiar to Danny, was still horrific.

They took a few shots off at the night guards, trying to take them down. Their group was efficient, but with the rate they were going at, it wasn’t going to be enough. Only adding to that, the gun Mr. Cobblepot had prepared for Mr. Freeze had broken after just a few uses, leaving them unable to create an ice wall.

Then, Danny heard the sound of a gun’s safety being turned off behind them, and his vision went white.

He grabbed onto Jazz and Derringer, making them intangible right as the night guard opened fire.

Waves of nausea hit him all at once and he doubled over, his vision swimming. Danny was only dimly aware of Jazz taking the guard down with a high kick right to the head, and Derringer pulling him into a protective hold.

Ignoring everything, he pulled the last of the large bombs from his bag, throwing it into the air, pulling everyone behind the desk.

The entire room went white.

Danny’s ears rung as he scrambled out from behind the reception desk, dragging Jazz with him.

Luckily, none of the hired hands on his team had gotten injured, but the guards…

Danny looked away, trying to ignore the taste of bile in his mouth.

It was fine. He was fine. Everything would be okay.

The next few minutes were a blur. He knew that he had puked only a few seconds after they had left the building, and that Derringer had picked him up afterwards, carrying him to the truck with Mr. Freeze and Jazz in tow.

Danny’s entire body was wracked with tremors, an unbearable phantom pain passing through the still-healing surgical wounds in his head and torso like lightning. He dry-heaved, shivering uncontrollably.

They drove off soon after. Luckily, no one had been left behind. Someone, probably Derringer, helped Danny rinse out his mouth and got him a bottle of water to drink, wrapping him in his jacket.

As soon as the truck doors were opened within one of Mr. Cobblepot’s safehouses, Danny became aware of the sound of wailing.

Hopping out of the truck, most of his mind still far away, he saw a man being rolled out of the room on a stretcher. He was one of the people who had been on the other truck, Danny realized.

Beside him was a teenager, probably only a few years younger than Danny, who was screaming and crying uncontrollably. They wailed at Mr. Cobblepot, who only stood there with an uncomfortable expression on his face.

“Oh shit,” Derringer breathed. Danny pulled on his sleeve, tilting his head at him questioningly.

“The guy on the stretcher, that’s his sibling.”

Danny just stared, a hollow feeling deep in his chest.

Jazz, her arms now freed from the straightjacket, pulled him away from the scene. Danny let her.

—

#dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp fic #vengeful danny #villain danny #btw Danny’s just cold because he has an iron deficiency. lmao #girl this is what happens when you don’t eat for two years. you get deficiencies. now stop angsting and eat your veggies #also my descriptions of the ecto filter come from donating blood plasma + platelets #Danny is Going Through It™️#btw I’m finishing this chapter at 3:03 am #just in case you thought I didn’t care about you all #btw the guy who’s injured’s sibling is a surprise tool that will help us later #also I was totally gonna kill Derringer at first. btw #but y’all avoided that with the poll. also it would have been a bit cheap imo

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cheemscakecat · 23 days ago

Text

How each Tf2 merc would act if they were alone at Fazbear’s Frights.

Inspired by watching FNAF vs Tf2 Ep 2 [go watch it]

Engineer:

>Ignores the phone call. Fixes the faulty ventilation and security system in like 15 minutes [if it even takes that long]

>Notices Springtrap moving on the cameras as he’s double checking that he fixed them.

>Builds an Engineer nest out of whatever was in his toolbox +the box in the security office.

>Ignores the hallucinations after the first one.

>Springtrap gets gunned down by a sentry in the doorway to the office. Alternatively, if Springtrap tries going into the office through the vent, he’ll be A. Gunned down via shotgun, or B. Tore up by a newfangled building that Engineer built inside the vent. [It depends on how much scrap Engie had to work with]

>Engineer proceeds to leave Fazbear’s fright now that the danger has passed.

Sniper:

>Ignores the phone call. Uses the security panel out of curiosity and notices Springtrap move.

>Decides to make a blockage in the vent using the box of old parts in the office. That’ll slow the “buggering old mold rabbit” down and make a commotion if he goes that way.

>Aims the rifle at the doorway, with the Kukri ready in case Springtrap tries to get in through the vent.

>Tries to slash one of the hallucinations, realizes it’s a hallucination, and proceeds to ignore them in favor of watching for Springtrap.

>Springtrap is shot in the knees and then chest as he tries to come through the doorway. If that isn’t enough to “kill” him, Sniper will proceed to slash him up with the Kukri. The fight goes about the same if Springtrap comes through the vent, but Sniper will probably lead with the Kukri to gain some distance before aiming with the rifle.

>Sniper makes sure to saturate Springtrap in pee before leaving Fazbear’s Fright and drinking in the clean night air.

Soldier:

>Listens to the phone call until he decides the caller is a hippie and hangs up. [Approximately 2 seconds]

>Messes around with the security cameras until he sees Springtrap move.

>Decides to leave the office because he doesn’t respect hippie instructions, or the faulty security panel.

>Soldier proceeds to lob grenades and crockets at each of the hallucinations. The structural integrity of the building is questionable, and there’s smoke and rubble everywhere.

>Springtrap tries to sneak up on Soldier in the smoke and kill him, but is thwarted by the fact that Soldier is built different. He doesn’t do nearly as much damage as hoped.

>Soldier either wrecks Springtrap with a grenade/crocket, or decides to get naked and beat him up. Springtrap ends up “dead” either way.

>Soldier leaves the building, which only crumbles after he leaves because funny.

Heavy:

>Listens to the phone call while also tapping on the security panel to see how it works.

>Notices Springtrap moving on the camera.

>Decides to get Sasha and leave the office to investigate.

>Jumps at one of the hallucinations before realizing it’s not real and proceeding on his way.

>Springtrap sits down at his spot and pretends not to be alive, hoping Heavy will be dumb enough to get close so he has a shot to bite him.

>Heavy shoots Springtrap with Sasha to see if he’s a hallucination/real “zombie cartoon”/a disguised Spy. Springtrap reacts to the pain and gets properly gunned down.

>Heavy decides to take the Freddy prop head as a souvenir and leaves Fazbear’s Fright.

>The prop head turns out to be haunted, but that was expected. After passing hands on the team for a while, Pyro ends up keeping the mask and having tea parties with it.

Scout:

>Tries to talk with the guy on the phone before realizing it’s a recording and giving up.

>Messes around with the security system, but gets bored of the camera before Springtrap moves.

>Decides to root through the box of props in the office just to see if there’s anything cool/interesting in it.

>Gets spooked by a hallucination while he’s playing with old props.

>Checks the camera again. Springtrap has moved.

>Panic

>Remembers he has a gun and a metal baseball bat.

>Remembers he has bonk.

>Scout drinks the bonk and bolts for the exit. The door is locked, so he starts trying to break it down with his body/the bat.

>Springtrap arrives, acting extra spooky because he assumes Scout is nothing more than a scaredy-cat man-child. And as someone who literally targeted defenseless children, scaredy-cat man-children are the next best thing. [William is pathetic fr]

>Scout responds by pulling out his gun and unloading every bullet into Springtrap’s chest and face. He then starts beating the everloving tar out of the ”weird freakin sewer rabbit” with the bat until it stops moving.

>Scout decides to run through the building so he can find the freaking keys. Once he finds them he leaves as soon as humanly possible.

Pyro:

>Listens to the phone, realizes it’s not Ms Pauling, and stops listening.

>Dumps out the box in the office, takes all the cute masks and desk toys, and wanders out into the attraction.

>Wanders through the attraction and plays with the props, hallucinations spring up to try and scare him. But he just waves and acts happy to see them.

>Springtrap, watching from afar, decides to trick this overgrown child like he tricked so many real kids all those years ago. After all, if this strange masked man-child is so keen on the hallucinations, it must mean he’ll look like a friendly rabbit again.

>Pyro stops frolicking as Springtrap comes up and tries to act nice. At first, Springtrap assumes he must just be surprised, but the seconds drag on and he is still just standing there, motionless.

>Pyro pulls out his axe and starts charging at “the bad man”. Springtrap tries to run away, but finds himself in a dead end.

>Springtrap is cut up with the axe and then set on fire.

>Pyro leaves the flaming building with arms full of old masks and toys.

Demoman:

>Answers phone, then hangs up and looks through the security panel.

>Doesn’t notice Springtrap moving and closes the camera.

>Starts drinking whatever alcohol he has with him.

>Gets spooked by a hallucination. Decides to look back at the cameras for other supernatural happenings.

>Notices Springtrap. Gets annoyed.

>Leaves bombs in the doorway and the vent, stands far enough away to avoid the explosions.

>Springtrap walks into bombs and explodes into chunks. Demoman realizes the air is getting too thick soon after and leaves the building.

Spy:

>Answers phone but gets annoyed listening to the phone guy’s voice and hangs up.

>Looks through the security panel and runs the ventilation because the building reeks of mildew and mold.

>Ventilation system breaks immediately afterwards. Gets annoyed and decides not to even try lighting a cigarette.

>Looks through the security cams and notices Springtrap moving.

>Decides that getting “Black mold mascot” material on his gloves, much less suit, is off the table. There will be no backstabbing this thing.

>Turns invisible with the revolver in hand. Creeps out into the attraction.

>Hallucinations appear but don’t get a reaction because he’s trained himself to be quiet. Hallucinations decide he’s no fun and give up.

>Sneaks up to Springtrap, identifies the smell of rotting meat and realizes there’s a zombie in the costume.

>Springtrap is shot in the exposed hole in his back and then in the head. Spy unloads all of the bullets in the revolver just to make sure this thing stays down.

>Spy leaves Fazbear’s Fright, making sure to get far away before attempting to light a cigarette. He decides to go into the nearest gas station to wash up, because the feeling of having Fazbear corpse air stuck to you is worse than a badly cleaned men’s room.

Medic:

>Answers phone, gets bored and then hangs up.

>Plays with the security system and notices Springtrap moving on the camera.

>Interest piqued, he leaves the office to go investigate.

>Springtrap gets knocked out with a tranquilizer dart and wakes up in the security office.

>The security panel has been strapped to Springtrap’s chest and allows him to talk via text. Medic asks how he became a zombie glued to the costume out of genuine curiosity.

>Springtrap decides Medic must be equally evil as him and proudly reveals that he’s a child murderer.

>William wakes up in Hell. Medic sold his soul to the devil to make sure he stayed in the ground.

>Medic leaves Fazbear’s fright and walks to the nearest bar so he can get out of the frightful bad mood he’s in.

#tf2 #tf2 spy #tf2 scout #tf2 demoman #tf2 pyro #tf2 soldier #tf2 engineer #tf2 sniper #tf2 medic #tf2 heavy #Fnaf #Springtrap #Long post #Headcanons #go watch FNAF vs Tf2 #Medic packed him up with his bare hands btw #That man built like an oak tree.

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medicetwork · 2 years ago

Text

Mercs if they had modern day cellphones!

Heavy:

The screen is too small and his fingers are too big.

The screen also tends to hurt his eyes after a while but he absolutely refuses to turn down the brightness, saying it would make it even harder to see than before

His main favorite functions are video calls with Medic or his family and listening to music.

His life is complete when he discovers E-books

He can’t read them on the screen but he loves being able to clean Sasha while having his favorite book read to him

Medic:

Really doesn’t use it for much else than phone calls and the occasional google search at first

When he discovers mobile games that takes his interest though!

He becomes a candy crush mom.

Oh you have a broken arm? Wellll…You can tough it out, champ. He’s on level 7,229 right now.

He would make all the other men get Life360

Scout:

Total social media zombie(I say as if I am not one)

Surprisingly he’s very popular on apps like Twitter and Tik Tok. People think he’s hilarious!

Unfortunately somewhere along the way he says something less than respectful about something and his account gets banned

Eventually he’s on account number 6 and trying to regrow his following

It never recovers

He finds out about NFT’s

Sniper:

Mainly uses it to watch youtube and play music

His phone is always on silent and Do Not Disturb

He loves those videos where those guys go out into the middle of the woods and just start building a fucking house out of clay and sticks.

He prefers texting to calling, finding it much faster(he just like me fr)

Baffled by just how much porn he has access to now….

But he’s not complaining.

Soldier:

He doesn’t use it because he just keeps breaking his phones.

They’ve been dropped, blown up, set ablaze, dropped in water, eaten by a bread-tumor monster, eaten by Soldier(???) and run over.

Even if they didn’t get destroyed within 3 days he still wouldn’t use it for much else besides setting alarms and sending confusing group texts.

However, with each new phone he has gotten he asks Pyro for stickers and sticker bombs his phone just for fun

Has an American flag wallpaper

Pyro:

Watches a lot of Youtube!

They love art tutorials, cooking tutorials and those videos with the guys that put molten hot metal balls into water and those videos of people crushing things in Hydraulic presses

Their search history is so fucking strange:

“my little pony free episode”

“my little pony movie free”

“how to draw clouds”

“gasoline cheap prices”

They follow Scout’s pages and always send him nice comments and like his videos

Engineer:

Loves listening to music and watching movies on his phone

Eventually learns how to code and make his own apps

This is also how he discovered he could jailbreak his phone and turn it into a universal remote for his sentries

Very slow texter

Uses way more emoji’s than needed

“Hello yall 👋🏻 going to the hardware store today 🔨let me know if yall need anything while im out👋🏻🚶🏼”

His most used app is the settings app

Spy:

Of course all of his phones are burners.

He never uses one for more than one week

Loves pirating movies on it and watching them in bed

He has no contacts. No personal information and keeps his location off at all times

Likes to pretend to be different people and play around with Google and Youtube’s targeted ads and algorithms

One day he’s an 86 year old woman that’s recommended nothing but metal bands and funeral home ads

The next week he’s four years old and getting recommended Mario and Minecraft let’s play videos

He uses twitter

He’s doxxed many people on Twitter

Like Scout he has MANY banned accounts and has also hacked and stolen many accounts

…He hacked one of Scout’s accounts and got it permanently banned

Demoman:

Loves watching Top 10 videos

Also loves having so much ease and access talking to his lads

He video calls his mother often even she just nags him the whole time and keeps accidentally hanging up

Is frequently texting the other team’s Soldier and laughing at what he says back

Uses Discord and Reddit and is in many servers and communities that focus on paranormal activity, urban legends and cryptids

Actually makes his own youtube videos searching for said cryptids

Frequently comments “cringe” under Scout’s posts

#tf2 pyro #soldier tf2 #tf2 demo #tf2 engineer #tf2 archimedes #tf2 headcanons #tf2 oc #scout tf2 #tf2 sniper #tf2 heavy #tf2 medic #tf2 spy

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jermer10 · 5 months ago

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hi! im unsure if your asks are open or not, but can i request headcanon drabbles for mercs (specifically spy, sniper, medic, soldier, engineer) with an s/o who grew up like deep south? like, sometimes their southern accent slips out when they get angry and they grew up hunting and fishing and they say crazy southern things like 'sweating worse than a whore in church'.

love your work! keep it up <3

TF2 mercs with a southern s/o

gn reader | tysm for the req anon!! <3

includes: soldier, engineer, medic, sniper, spy

drabbles under the cut :P

Soldier: - a match made in heaven - he probably met you out hunting, “whatcha’ lookin’ for darlin’?” “COMMIE SCUM” - you had to explain to him that “commie scum” wasn’t tangible nor legal to kill - “NOT IF NO ONE FINDS THE BODIES!” you cant help but burst out laughing at his naivety, Soldier grinning alongside you - he honestly doesn’t get why you’re laughing, but he doesn’t care, your laugh was so addictive - after that you were seldom seen without one another - you’re into all the same hobbies and you have the same temper, the other mercs call you John Doe (soldier likes to pretend that this annoys him but the idea of sharing a last name with you excites him more)

Engineer: - engie met you whilst going back down south for business purposes, you hit it off immediately! - he absolutely adores every inch of you, and finds your common interests a good relaxant when he needs a break from work (which you often have to force him to do) - the other mercs refer to you both as the parents of the team, as much as it makes you both cringe it unfortunately flusters you both to no end - your accent becomes stronger the deeper in conversation you both are - this leads to some very confused mercs, hilarious antics ensue - this also leads to incredibly unfunny alabama jokes whether you're from Alabama or not (courtesy of scout) - you are an inseparable duo, doing mostly everything together!

Medic: - despite what you might believe, medic adores your boisterous personality! - you don't have many common interests, but he will occasionally join you on a hunting trip (especially if you are willing to hunt humans for him to perform medical malpractice on) - he loves your little sayings, finding them absurd and hilarious - "pretty as zhe peach you say?" he muses, a cocky grin plastered on his face - you're both stubborn, so naturally you butt heads over stupid things - but as soon as that accent comes out full force medic sits his german ass down and listens - all in all a power couple if you entertain his more eccentric qualities

Sniper: - this is an 'enemies to lovers' type of deal except the enemy part is one sided - he finds you very offputting at first, chalking you up to being just another loud annoyance and ignoring your attempts to bond - then you take him hunting and his whole world changes - he's never seen someone so precise with a gun other than himself, seeing you hit that deer right between the eyes was like watching fireworks in slow motion - and all at once he fell for you, coming to the not so shocking realization that he might actually not hate you as much as he thought - he still finds you loud and annoying but now he is highly attracted to you and is not as good at hiding it as he thinks - insane introvert x insane extrovert trope my beloved

Spy: - okay his is ACTUALLY an enemies to lovers and HEAVVYY on the lovers part - you do not like eachother and you both make that very clear. - spy considers himself sophisticated and above the sorts of animalistic hobbies you take interest in, you are a 'for the people' kind of person and find the high class world to be inherently exploitative - so you can see where the conflict is coming from then? well good because it all comes crashing down after you get into a screaming match and the deep southern drawl comes out - suddenly his lips are on yours and your hands are gripping the front of his blazer in any attempt to bring him closer - neither of you are open about this relationship you share - everyone knows.

#tf2 #ask #tf2 fanfiction #team fortress 2 #tf2 imagines #tf2 x reader #tf2 x you #jermer10 #fluff #tf2 soldier #tf2 engineer #tf2 medic #tf2 sniper #tf2 spy

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plexiglasssheets · 10 months ago

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Scout and Spydad

anyways father son bonding with very brief EngineerxSpy and Engiedad

pardon my shit grammar

-------

Like in Expiration Date/the comics Spy will let Scout tag along or help him with much reluctance, But as time goes on he does see the *potential* in him to make him a more refined man. One day going to sit in the common room to catch up on his French programs. That for some reason the signal doesn't reach his smoking room, he even asked Engineer to somehow fix the transmission, but the best he could do was the common area TV which was better than nothing. He put on one of his cheaper suits to sit on the musty couch, and hopefully, he prays just to catch up on his dramas without anyone annoying him. Then comes a sweaty scout who was probably outside with Pyro doing something stupid. He comes and sits on the couch realizing it's in French decides to read his comic. Spy just wants him to leave so he can watch his shows. But the kid was being quiet so it was better than nothing.

This became routine, the spy would come to watch his show, and Scout would come in at around the same time, sometimes from his runs, or one of his drives into town with Sniper and Pyro. But like clockwork, he would always be there. Having his comic books or sketch pad tucked under the couch just in case. Spy had gotten used to the company, while he drank his wine and Scout his soda. He just so happens to have a coaster at the ready for the water condensation his sugary beverage.

Scout had also slowly gotten into the shows himself, he knew French and was a bit rusty. But their weekly watchings got him back into it. The two would rant about the direction of the shows, think trashy reality TV, and bachelor-type stuff. How ‘he should have picked her, as they would have worked far better together’. Or ‘this is so rigged, she should have won.’ But they’re saying this all in French so when anyone else tries to come in they just hear the two in what they assume is a yelling match, though far from it.

Engineer decided maybe he should try to get it on Spy’s personal TV, to stop the fighting. So one afternoon as Spy is exiting his smoking room , Engie goes to him and tells him he can get it on his personal TV. But the Spy says he doesn’t want him to go through all that hassle, he's fine with the common room TV. Engineer confused, accepts it and goes back to his workshop, coming into the common room later to see what would make him want to stay. Then it clicked, as much as those two like to pretend to hate each other, they really didn’t. They weren’t best friends but they at least tolerated each other.

Scratch that, they did heavily dislike each other is how engineer would put it. When Spy would come later in the evenings to chat with spy, he’d go on and on about how’ he could civilize that boy’ and ‘if he had the time had be a fine general man’. Or could go down the path of ‘he doesn’t know why he puts up with him for his shows’

Scout complaints paralleled in the afternoons, going to Engie and ranting how he’s ‘always on his case’ and ‘needs to chill’.

But like always, every evening at 4, the two would make there way to the common area tv.

#tf2 #tf2 headcanons #team fortress two #scout tf2 #tf2 scout #spy tf2 #tf2 spy #spydad #engispy #briefly mentioned #plexwrites #I’d like to think spy tries to parent but also doesnt #Dadspy #Engiedad #Me fighting the demons trying to figure out the if people write it as engi or Engie

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notquitecanon · 1 year ago

Text

Sacrifice & Devotion // Din Djarin x Reader

Hurt comfort lil fic

here's a fun lil game of spot the dialogue I stole from criminal minds!

tw: no mentions of gender, mention and description of canon typical injury, mention of canon typical violence, reader is a bounty hunter, specifically a sniper, unedited, written in one sitting while I pulled an all nighter

fics where two idiots who are obviously in love are so terrible at pretending to not be in love that it circles back around to one of them thinking its unrequited/being so oblivious they still don't notice are my bread and butter

Summary: Reader and Mando both have insecurities that are starting to boil over and cause some heavy miscommunication. It takes a blaster wound for them to talk it out.

You had stalked off to lick you wounds before the Crest’s engines even cooled, finding a cozy rooftop with a good view of the city, dark enough to feel concealed but enough ligh to tend to yourself.

Mando hadn’t been able to catch you, he had to deliver proof of service to your contractors. The waiting credits were much needed to repair the ship’s latest malfunctions if either of you wished to leave this system in the next rotation.

Not to mention the med pac that would need replenishing after you were done. In favor of not bleeding out, you had started with the most severe, the blaster wound to your shoulder. The med scanner had informed you it was primarily superficial, but was at risk of infection.

You sniffed, for something so superficial, the wound sure was leaking blood like a broken tap. The scanner had suggest a bacta infusion, but after your last hunt, the last bacta infusion was only half full. Still, even half would slow the bleeding and lower the risk of infection. You hissed after spraying it with a coagulant and then cursed with the auto-injector of the syringe delivered the half dose of bacta. Next, you moved onto bandages, wrapping the gauze in looping circles.

Metal clinked quietly behind you, alerting you to your company. Mando hovered in the shadows until you turned halfway towards him, like he didn’t want to startle you but also didn’t want to attract you frustration if you hadn’t cooled off yet.

His modulator didn’t hide the concern in his voice, even if he tried to, “Those are too loose, you’ll get an infection.”

“Well, are you gonna lurk in the shadows or come help me?” You sighed, nodding to the other discarded cargo crate beside the one you had pulled into the light, “How’d you find me?”

Mando looked around as he approached and sat beside you, like it was obvious, “Easily accessible rooftop, city views and eyes on the ship. Removed but still involved. Sniper’s paradise.”

You tried to ignore the flush of heat up your neck, sometimes between the very few words Mando spoke it was easy to forget how astute his observations could be. It always shocked you when he voiced his perceptions of you, and flustered you when they were correct. So you cleared your throat, “Where’s the kid?”

The bounty hunter chuckled before stepping to the side, revealing the pram, closed, “Little one’s been asleep since we hit atmosphere.”

Mando waited a moment before holding his hand, “Let me help you with those.”

You licked your teeth before offering the roll of bandages to him. His gloved fingers closed around it before unraveling your previous handiwork. Fortunately the bleeding had mostly stopped, but you didn’t miss how his visor paused on the stained smears of blood down your arms and across your clothes. It made you bristle all over again, which he obviously noticed since he quickly started wrapping the injury before you rescinded your cooperation. It pained you to say he was right, your wrappings had been way too loose. Still, the tightness made you flinch more than you were proud to admit, making you feel like a child at a doctor’s office. Especially with how gentle he was being, how sincere his apologies were with every flinch. Your frustration welled back up at his gentility, your jaw setting which only made the split of your lip hurt worse.

“You’re upset.” He observed, taking the bacta gel and spreading it on a cotton swab so he could dab at the open slice across your thigh which gave him the perfect excuse to drop his gaze from yours. Sometimes you wished you also wore a helmet, make it a little harder for Mando to read your emotions. Make him play body language trivia during every interaction of every day, “I shouldn't have left you alone. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you. You have every right to be upset."

Especially, if he was going to to read them incorrectly and break your heart in he process. Of course he thought that’s what you were upset about. The Mandalorian- all beskar steel, blaster smoke, and the worlds he balanced on his shoulders.

You slumped your shoulders, ignoring the ache from your newly bandaged wound. You averted your gaze off to the Razor Crest, watching half a dozen workers frantically making two dozen repairs. Mando sighed, gingerly working the bacta into the gash with one hand, meanwhile you became acutely aware of his other gloved hand holding your thigh still. Gentle, yet firm, and his thumb was rubbing soothing circles against your exposed skin. Mando took so much on himself and never expected any sort of reciprocity, didn’t know how to accept it. It filled you with anger all over again.

“Mando. I’m not mad at you for not being there to protect me.” You shook your head, glancing at his hand on your thigh before meeting his visor. You wondering if his eyes were as sad as his posture let on, quickly followed by a train of thought about his eyes that you decided to misattribute to the blood loss.

“I should have been there. That sleemo never should have gotten close enough to touch you, much less do this.” He growled, taking the tube of liquid bandage and squeezing it across the gash.

“Yeah, Mando, you should have been in two places at once and done my job for me. You’re right.” You groaned sarcastically, trying to snatch the tube out of his hand only to have him catch your wrist. Seeing your sharp look, he dropped your wrist but didn’t hand over the tube, instead finishing his application in silence.

“Oh my stars- that was sarcasm Mando. I’m being facetious.” You were gobsmacked, did that helmet cut off airflow? Was his brain so oxygen deprived that he thought you truly expected that of him? How deep did this self martyrdom run?

“You really don’t trust me, do you?” You finally asked, breaking all contact to retract your legs from him. If he kept rubbing those circles on your thigh… you might do something dramatic, “I know I’m not a Mandalorian, and I’m probably not the best bounty hunter you’ve ever met, but if you can’t trust me to do my job then why let me keep tagging along.”

Mando’s helmet was kind of doing a little spiral motion as if trying to follow your logic, “What? I trust you, of course I trust you.”

“But not enough to do my job.” You snipped, “If you trust me so much why do your part of the job and mine before I even get the chance? Always swooping in to finish things, even when I have it under control. Why call me your partner if I’m basically a piece of cargo you have to feed? Why keep me around if I’m such a hinderance?”

Mando actually flinched back at your sudden outburst, and you quickly looked away, maybe you had let more of your own insecurity show than you meant to. But it was all true. If he told you to take care of the perimeter, he’d flush out the inside and do a perimeter sweep before you even got to a good stakeout spot with your rifle. If you were both engaged in hand to hand combat, he’d recklessly rush his fight so shoot your opponent for you.

The armored warrior was silent for a good long while, his visor watching you as you started to squirm under his gaze. You were about to interject, tell him to drop it and not worry about it, but as you opened your mouth he held a hand up to stop you, “I have no reservations about your skills. I trust you with my life.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, reopening the cut through the one over your left eye, “Then-“

Once again, he interrupted you by saying your name quietly… reverently. You went silent.

“When I went against the guild on Nevarro, you were the only guild member to stand with me. I never would have made it off planet with the child if you hadn’t intervened. You gave everything up to help me, you didn’t know me and yet you threw your life away to help me escape with the child. You could have earned enough credits to retire three times over by turning me in, you’ve had chance after chance to betray me, and yet,” He paused to look at you, really look at you, “You’ve risked your life time after time for the child, for me. You devoted yourself to this quest as if it were your own. How could I do any less than you?”

His gloved hand reached for yours, his thumb grazing over your split knuckles from a up close encounter with a pirate, “Every time I allow someone to hurt you, it’s an affront to your sacrifice.”

Your eyes softened, letting him dab that bacta cream across the marred skin, “Mando, we’re bounty hunters. Getting hurt is an occupational hazard. I knew the risks when I did what I did.”

He was silent; his visor tipped away from you over to the pram where the Child slept, “You do too much for us.”

“Hypocrite.” You teased, trying to lighten the mood. His confession had eased your frustrations, a balm to your own insecurities. Of course this had come from a place of protectiveness, how very… Mandalorian. Considering him for a moment, you angled your body back towards him. You knew all this duty weighed on him, and often there wasn’t much you could do to help, but at the moment, on your perfectly chosen rooftop, you knew what he needed. You handed him a new cotton swap and the small bacta patches that would prevent the cuts on your face from scarring, “Do my face so we can find some dinner?”

He nodded quickly, taking the supplies and pulling you a bit closer to him, so close that you knee overlapped his own armored thigh, and you were close enough to count the scratches on his chest plate, even in the dim light. The slight lean taxed your sore core and back muscles, so you steadied yourself by placing a hand on his knee. He almost jerked, but cleared his throat, taking a moment to relax again. Your lip tugged up, he unconsciously moved closer.

You let him work in silence for a long pause, enjoying the night breeze. He gingerly cleaned each cut and scrape, gloved fingers grazing your cheeks, the slope of your nose, your lips and a whole bunch of other places you knew weren’t injured. You tried not to let your breath catch, in case that would spur him to stop.

Eventually, he stopped pretending to be using both hands, leaving his left one cupping your cheek ’to keep you still’. You leaned into the touch, allowing the softness of the moment before your next bounty or side quest came along. You liked when it was just the two of you, Mando talked a lot more, he was unintentionally one of the funniest people you knew.

You were shocked to find his company so enjoyable after all the rumors of him being only slightly more human than an assassin droid. Sure he was stoic, usually silent, focussed, but he was also kind, more compassionate than he would admit, and unwaveringly loyal. Dank Farrik, he made it hard to stay mad at him.

Closing your eyes (a big sign of trust for a sniper), you laid your hand over the one cupping your cheek, “Mando, I didn’t make this sacrifice expecting anything from you. I just wish you’d let me help you more, you don’t have to do it alone.”

“I hate seeing you hurt, more than I know how to explain.” His voice was gruffer than usual as he placed a patch over the split in your brow. Your hand on his knee squeezed gently.

“I don’t need you to protect me, I need you to know that, especially at the risk of your own safety.” You reminded him with a softness to your voice that you seldom used to anyone other than the Child. A thumb brushed across the peak of your cheek before moving a stray piece of hair so he could patch a scrape under the corner of your eye.

“I know that, ner kar’ta.” His tone matched yours: soft, gentle, intimate. Your head cocked to the side, but Mando wasn’t feeling up to explaining so he continued on, placing another patch across the bridge of your nose, “Still, I think I’ll stay on the job a while longer.”

________

After dinner and chasing the pit droids out of the Razor Crest, it was time for some well needed rest. Mando had managed to scrounge up some light dosage pain medication when he stopped to replenish the medpacs. Not enough to leave you delirious, but strong enough to make you drowsy and a little loose with your thoughts. Nothing you’d regret, just a couple more direct than usual questions for you beskar wrapped bunkmate. You watched him putter around the cargo hold from your cot with half lidded eyes, as he went through and checked over everything the droids might have touched.

“How much longer?” You couldn’t help but ask, wondering if your days with the Mandalorian were already numbered. Mando’s helmet turned towards you before sliding the circuit panel back into the wall.

“Sorry, I’m almost done. Try to get some sleep.” He answered quietly, trying to minimize the noise he made as he moved about the small space.

“Not that.” You waved him off, the motion much clumsier, heavier than usual, “Protecting me- a fool’s errand by the way. You said you’d stay on the job a while longer.”

Mando sighed, moving towards his rack, the one with the closing door that he’d tried to give to you, but you refused. It was the only place other than the privy he could remove his helmet, you refused to let him give that away. He flicked lights off as he went, leaving only the dim glow of button lights to reflect on his armor. He was silent long enough that the darkness lulled you into a bit of a half sleep. Maybe that was his goal, still he answered you. Quietly, in that same reverent tone he’d said your name with earlier that evening.

“Every single day for the rest of my life.”

Exhaustion, blood loss, and narcotics dulled the effect of that declaration, but you heart still clenched at the sincerity of his voice. Your eyes wouldn’t open anymore and your thoughts were becoming increasingly sluggish with every beat of your heart.

“Thanks, Mando.” You breathed, listening to the clicks of his armor being disassembled and neatly placed away, finally the hiss of his helmet being disengaged, knowing it must be dark enough he wasn’t worried about you seeing his face.

“Din, that’s my actual name. You can call me Din when it’s just us.” He breathed into the night, barely registering in your mind, but you tucked away that information where you’d remember it tomorrow. You heart clenched again at his offer to you, showing how much he trusted you.

“Thanks, Din."

-----

Ner K'arta - my heart

now that's what I call shitty writing

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x reader #the mandaloria/reader #the mandalorian x reader

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icarustypicalfall · 1 year ago

Text

Reminiscence

König x reader

masterlist

summary: How is it that a fleeting moment, a mere jiffy between reality and fantasy, can grasp our souls and leave us yearning or empathizing for the rest of our limited existence?

warnings: sfw, usual cod violence, wounds, guns, angst?, comfort, ending...?

word count: 2,3k

notes: my autocorrecter turned every könig with the usual o so if you see one pretend you didn't.. also this fic is so random and i have no clue what happened

“my peace has always depended on all the ashes in my wake”

Colonel König was a man who took pride in everything he did. He lived a long life, serving alongside his brother Horangi in both successful and challenging missions. Little was known about his past, as he guarded it as if it were a sin. However, deep down, one could sense that the colonel carried a burden, a mysterious weight from the past that only he could comprehend.

Once again, he awoke in his office, drenched in cold sweat with a single tear streaming down his face, evidence of the nightmare that had just haunted his brief slumber. He longed to forget, to erase the memories that had plagued him for years. But no matter how much time passed, moving on seemed an impossible task.

König vividly recalled the scene, replaying it countless times in his mind. There were moments when he secretly desired to descend into madness and never wake up, to relive the painful dream over and over until the colours of his memory faded.

His ultimate fear was not death itself, for he had already died when he left, but rather the possibility of forgetting the sound of your beloved voice or the sensation of tender flesh.

December 12 #### [03:24 am]

Location: [classified]

Operation: [classified]

The pain was unbearable, and he desperately wished for anything to end it, even if it meant shutting his shallow breath forever.

As a child, König dreamt of becoming a sniper. He couldn't explain why, but he yearned for that role deeply, idolizing the revered warriors portrayed in the movies he watched every Friday night.

But as he grew older, his dream transformed into a painful reality. He never anticipated that this simple wish would leave him isolated in the wilderness, with no one to share his throe.

At the age of twenty-two, freshly graduated from military training with the rank of private, König quickly ascended the ranks. His towering physique and exceptional abilities certainly played a part, but it was his unwavering discipline and outstanding performance that truly caught the attention of his superiors. He obediently followed every order, earning the respect of sergeants and majors alike.

Yet König did not mind this, for he harboured the aspiration of becoming a leader one day. Perhaps then, his childhood dream would manifest into reality.

He found himself in this particular location, alongside fellow soldiers, embarking on a mission to test their abilities. It was meant to be a swift operation, in and out, dealing with a drug trafficking affair. At least, that's what he believed.

But reality proved to be harsh, mercilessly slapping him across the face. The frontline was a treacherous arena; once you stepped onto it, there was no guarantee of stepping back.

Every soldier eventually came to realize this as they reloaded their guns, with each bullet either ending a life or starting one. It was a painful cycle, where lives were lost and shattered, yet there seemed to be no alternative for humanity to coexist other than beheading their enemies.

König groaned, searching for his comrades who awaited a sign amidst the unforgiving terrain. The house they were about to breach stood eerily silent, a stark contrast to the constant movement of the criminals they pursued. Suddenly, something rolled out from the darkness, making it impossible to discern its nature.

The silence was shattered by screams and cries of terror.

The gas bomb had served as a distraction. König crawled, feeling the burning air and painful lacerations surrounding him. Though he was away from the epicentre, the effects were still noticeable. Slowly, he eliminated the immediate threat and proceeded to infiltrate the house in search of any remaining criminals. It was a poor abode, with an old sofa in the living room and an assortment of cheap DVDs and guns. As he turned, he heard a movement behind him.

König shut his eyes, feeling the searing sensation spreading through his body. The stab wound wasn't deep, but it caused excruciating pain. He winced as he swiftly eliminated the assailant before collapsing to the ground, frantically searching for anything that could staunch the bleeding in his stomach.

"No, not a tourniquet," he thought, realizing the wound needed to be packed with something to stop the bleeding and alleviate the dizziness in his head. Slowly, he stumbled out of the house and into the surrounding woods, struggling to remember where his teammates were. The cowards had abandoned him, assuming he was dead.

Leaning against a tree, König regretted tearing his shirt, as the cold breeze and dampness of the forest began to affect his body temperature. Shivering, he fought to retain the little warmth he had left as he reached for his radio. How could his comrades, the ones he had done everything to keep safe, leave him behind as though he were nothing more than an insignificant pebble in the road?

His knees grew heavy, and he collapsed onto the ground. The radio slipped from his grasp, just a few steps away, yet reaching for it felt like an insurmountable task. With each passing second, König felt his strength wane, and he slowly began to follow the beckoning light. A gentle beam enveloped him as he caught sight of his mother's tender face. She smiled, extending her hand towards him, just like she used to do in the old days when she would walk him to kindergarten and affectionately call him her "Schnecke."

König closed his eyes, surrendering to the cold embrace under the solitary tree.

13th December #### [11:15 am]

"No, Lou, don't wake him up. Go out, you silly dog."

König opened his eyes, feeling disoriented. He couldn't remember where he was, so he rubbed his temples and attempted to sit up. Instantly, he regretted it, as a sharp pain shot through his side.

"Oh no no no, sit back down, you're still injured!"

König almost flinched at the sweet voice and turned to see you. If he didn't know any better, he would have thought he was in heaven.

You smiled at him, a sweet grin, while patting a dog who was wagging its tail happily. König stared at you, mouth agape and in shock. You were magnificent, if not more.

He hadn't expected anyone to be living here. The cabin itself was a sight to behold, with its wooden floors and walls reminiscent of his grandpa's old cabin. He smiled as he noticed the crackling fire, realizing that he wasn't sleeping on a dusty bed with torn blankets. Everything in this small place exuded comfort.

He struggled to sit up but winced in pain before murmuring with a low, husky voice, "A... are you an angel?"

You laughed dismissively, shaking your head with warmth and amusement. He wished he could stay by your side and make you laugh forever.

Taking a breath, you handed him a mug of warm tea. "No, I am not an angel, but you can call me that if you wish," you said, settling in a wooden chair beside him.

König held the cup tightly, taking a slow sip of the tea, just the way he liked it—burning with no sugar. He hummed with satisfaction, noticing that he was shirtless, with large bandages wrapped around his abs and stomach.

You quickly explained, your cheeks blushing slightly. "Lou found you when we were out at dawn. My dad and I brought you here, treated your wounds, and your clothes are drying over there..." You pointed to the fire, where he saw his combat boots and uniform drying.

König smiled, not knowing what to say. He simply stared at you, yearning for you to continue speaking. He would give you anything you desired, even carve his chest and offer you his heart if you wished.

He muttered, now feeling more at ease with you so close. "I am sorry, Engel, for the... burden."

You frowned, and he wished he could bury himself alive at the sight of your small, annoyed expression. "There's no need to apologise," you reassured him.

He appreciated your kindness and refrained from saying more. He leaned back, closing his eyes and enjoying the gentle sounds of the crackling fire and the rain pouring outside.

König was young and had never thought much about the future, but after seeing you, he vowed to move heaven and earth for your sake. He would willingly descend into the depths of hell with a grin if it meant seeing you smile.

König woke up later from his short nap, his stomach partially growling from the enticing aroma of soup cooking. He smiled apologetically, looking at your tired form as you approached him with a shy smile.

"I need to... um... change your bandages," you said, blushing slightly. He rejoiced at your adorable and sweet blush, sitting up and exposing his stomach for you to treat.

Your gentle touch on his skin made him shiver, trying his best to ignore your proximity and the alluring scent of your perfume as you tended to his wound, though it was almost impossible.

Finally, he looked away, wincing slightly as you accidentally scratched his wound. Your small apology and the comforting hand that cupped his knee were enough to make him feel lightheaded. You had already claimed his heart, it might as well be yours completely.

16th December #### [23:35]

In just three days, König had fallen head over heels with you. He believed that this fleeting enchantment was a reward for his heroic deeds. He had the pleasure of getting to know your father, basking in your delightful presence, and listening to the soothing melody of your voice as you read or sang to him.

As the days went by, König discovered some of your secrets —your deep passion for baking and your dream of opening a bakery. Your voice, sweet as honey, captivated him completely. Often, he found himself daydreaming as you enthusiastically shared your plans for the future. Secretly, he longed to be a part of that future, to spend countless nights gazing into your eyes, like a sky full of shimmering stars. He yearned to be by your side, to blend with you into a single entity and dive into the depths of an ocean where no one else could reach.

However, he knew that these moments were fleeting, for he had to leave. With a heavy heart and mournful eyes, he glanced around the cabin, wishing he could express his deep gratitude. He wanted nothing more than to whisk you away from this world, for you, a sweet and kind woman, deserved to be treated like a cherished princess from an old fairytale. His life was filled with terror, sins, and agony, while yours appeared to be nothing but pure bliss.

But he knew it wasn't right. You belonged here, and he was merely a simple disturbance in your perfect, sweet dream.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he looked at you with a sad smile. Pulling you close, he breathed in the scent of your perfume, a blend of sweet vanilla and cinnamon, hoping to etch it into his memory forever. Reluctantly, he pulled away and gazed at you, his voice trembling as he spoke.

"Take care of yourself, Engel... I will come back."

Desiring a bond, something to remind you of him, he knew he couldn't be with you. At least, he wanted something of his to remain close to your heart. Before you could protest, he slipped a bracelet made of red beads onto your wrist, urging you to accept it despite your slight frown.

"It's a gift. Take care of it until I see you again."

Your lips quivered, realizing that this was the end, a potential tale cut short before it even began. There was nothing you could do to change it. Some things just weren't meant to be, and deep down, you already knew that. But Konig was no ordinary man you had met by chance. His eyes concealed a painful past, a gentle soul, and a heart overflowing with love. Finally, you mustered the words, accepting the gift.

"Thank you... I promise I'll take good care of it."

After that night, König never saw you again.

Months later, he returned, only to find the area abandoned, with no trace of his Engel. He lived in denial, refusing to face the reality. He knew you were somewhere in this world, and the mere thought of being close to you but not close enough tore him apart. He searched for you tirelessly, interrogating every individual who might have known of your whereabouts, but to no avail.

König was strong, enduring everything - the grueling training in freezing nights, bullets piercing his flesh, and the heart-wrenching loss of his precious comrades. Yet, losing you had left his heart in ruins. Only God knows how much he despised starting over, burying the past and pretending it never existed.

What have you done? Where have you hidden his heart? Will you give it back?

He sighed, his voice barely a whisper carried away by the cold breeze. Years later, he continued the ritual he had adopted after losing you. Every night, he would gaze at the old scars you had left behind, his fingers tracing the marked flesh, finding solace in reminiscing about your sweet gestures when you tended his wounds.

König snapped back to reality, feeling a reassuring pat on his shoulder from Horangi, his steadfast companion. The bond between them was stronger than that of brothers, providing unwavering support in the face of any adversity. They stepped outside together, deciding to stop at a café for some coffee while keeping an eye out for their next task.

As they approached the café, König's heart tightened at the sight of its name, "Engel." He pushed open the door, a weight of anticipation settling upon him. The familiar scent engulfed him as he made his way to the counter. A woman greeted him with a warm smile, whispering softly,

"Just a moment, and I'll be right with you!"

Her voice and smile, etched in his memory for a lifetime, made his mind wander. And then, he noticed the familiar red bracelet adorning her wrist. It couldn't be possible. He muttered, his voice barely audible, as if he was once again a wounded soldier in the woods, "Engel ?"

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cringefaillosersummit · 1 year ago

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Round 2 - Group 3B

Submission notes under cut. Some submissions had notes others did not:

Perona:

her fight with usopp was basically them running away from each other crying and when she gets the upperhand she ends up losing HARD bc she got scared of the fake roaches he threw at her. she gets knocked out bc usopp hits her with an inflatable hammer that said "10 tons" on it and she fell for it. then when she tries to escape she gets sent to a spooky island where she proceeds to freeload off a random goth dude. i love her and her cringefail patheticness shes so great also shes goth so its a double win

goth girl who freeloads in a cooler goth dude's house. constantly whining and crying. lost a fight against the most pathetic snivelling main cast member because she was scared of cockroaches. throws temper tantrums when things don't go her way (they never do)

her devil fruit power's main weakness is a man who pretends to be a guy called "sniper king" all because he was a depressed and anxious mess (she is also not much better btw)

Liliana Vess:

She tried going on the run by disguising as a school professor by just taking off her headband and changing her name, no other appearance changes. She even left the headband on a stand in her office. She has PTSD over someone sacrificing himself for her but instead of thinking it could possibly be any form of trauma she blamed it on not being able to get a specific type of honey for her tea. She poses like a Conquistador being painted on the regular. In the end she was so toxic she couldn't even pull Jace Beleren, possibly the most pathetic man in all of existence. She thinks she's a girlboss but is just a girlfailure. She worked for a guy named Nicol Bolas who people call Nick Balls and who I first misheard somehow as Nickelback and I feel that's pretty cringe. She doesn't even know what a mango is and has to have it explained to her.

Propaganda: [1] [2]

#pathetic woman showdown #pws round 2 #tournament poll #one piece #perona #perona one piece #magic the gathering #mtg #liliana vess

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serxinns · 8 months ago

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Sweat treats~ Chap 2

Tw: Blood and death!

Yandere Bnha ships x undercover hero reader

Once you reach your house close and lock the door, you quickly put on your undercover Hero suit with most importantly your hero mask "Xin I'll be back sweetie!" Xin mewed and went back to sleep you grabbed your suitcase and went out of the house you pressed a button and a few seconds later it became a motorcycle you hopped on it and drove to your boss agency

"Ah there you are birdie~," Keigo said as he smirked keigo was your agent partner and boss he was in charge of striking down and killing villains and you were either the backup up or his getaway driver they walked you in the meeting room where ziki kicker and, Maharu was in "alright since everyone is here.." he drops the documents papers for everyone in the room "There's a villain planning to steal a valuable and powerful jewelry kept safe in the safe kitkari, you, and maharu find the bombs and remove them carefully while me birdie and buns (aka Mirko) will take care of her ourselves which means y/n and maharu will pretend that they're partners" you all agreed with his plan and head out with your spy car "Oh and make sure you dress up nicely and use your fake identit s and disguise make sure theyre not real " Mirko stated "hm I wonder why do we?

Time skip cause I'm lazy

Once they made it to the ball 2 large men were guarding the door "Name and partner name?" The men said pulling out their hands for any type of ID "I'm Marshall Rover this is my lovely wife Sasha Willwood " "ok get in next " "Zachary west and my lovely wife Mary~" Ziki tried fake flirting with Kitkari (aka mary) wich Mary pretended to be flustered "ok get in" you and Mahara looked at each other and nodded "State your name?" "Um I'm f/n (fake name) and this is my husband uh..moose?" Marharu and the others stared at you Keigo and Kitari tried not to laugh while Ziki and Miriko rolled their eyes the guard eyed at the both of you while you smiled at them trying to keep their cool "yea your on the list get in" you sighed in relief and walked pass the large fancy doors

and you were amazed when you saw how well done it was it felt like you were a background character in Cinderella "Well damn no wonder, why ms Miriko told me to dress nice this place is beautiful" You stared in wonder head turning at each angel to feast upon the view like a child 1st discovering candy stores unaware that hawks were chuckling at your reaction "gotta pay attention birdie don't wanna miss our target~" you snapped out your daze "Oh! Im so sorry I'll do better next time my mistake mr hawks" you made a small bow to him while Ziki snickered at you and he chuckled "That's all right now let's focus"

"Good luck!" Kitkari winked at you while she and Ziki ran off with their gear they sped away the 4 of you spread out by slow dancing to spot the red-haired woman, "look!" Marharu whispered pointing at the small crown near the food table you see the red-haired woman, the woman's name was Diana famous for stealing valuable things and has been on the run for 4 years now nobody ever caught her because of her quirk camouflage and another quirk called lava, "Mr ha- I mean Keigo I see her.." you whispered making sure nobody heard you "let ziki and kari know and I'll grab the attention of everyone in the party for a while you finished the job" suddenly Keigo went on stage and choose some music while miriko played piano with him

Your eyes sparkled at how smooth your boss's voice was and how Mirko was amazing at playing the piano and also singing with him heck you were almost distracted keigo spotted you and gave you a wink and a charming smile which made you blush while Mirko gave you a seductive wink and blow a kiss you blushed and looked away in embarrassment, Maharu changed his finger to the tip of a sniper while you had a gun in your pocket (his quirk is a firearm which allows him to form limbs as any gun his drawback is running out of bullets and losing energy) "ziki when I tell you now you turn off the lights" "on it"

Maharu got his aim and shot ready

Keigo and miriko was getting ready to fight in case they missed

"NOW!" You turned off the lights and heard bullets flying and people screaming and running away "Did...you get it?" You turned on the light and saw people screaming seeing the redhead on the floor blood streaming down her head everyone was running in different directions "IT THEM!!" The 2 men said pointing at the 4 of you joining them were like 100 guards guns locked and loaded "...RUN!" The 4 of you dashed off going up the stairs and down the hall "KARI ZIKI GET THE CAR READY're going TO JUMP OFF THE ROOF "

Miriko was jumping back and forth throwing punches and kicks h at the guards but there were too many and had pretty strong quirks the 4 of you made it to the roof Mirko used her leg to knock off a piece of a metal pipe and tied it around the door to block it off while you used for your quirk to try and block off the exit making them harder to get to you, "cmon cmon cmon!"m

Your mind was running wild screaming even though the doors were about to open at any minute nails and bolts falling apart while the door kept staying strong shaking back and forth "We have no choice just jump!!" The 4 of you jumped as far as you could just when the guards finally busted down the door a red sports car drove underneath the 4 of you crashing you and their fall and quickly driving away quickly.

After everyone got dropped off at their designed area with a bunch of goodbyes and teasing you were the last to drop off "Good job on today's mission Birdy did amazing today~" "yea honey bun you did amazing today!" You rubbed the back of your head sheepishly "Eh it wasn't that good the two of you were amazing, especially your singing and piano playing!" They both chuckled at your praise "well have a goodnight!" The two of them watched as You rushed off into your "house "you know baby our little employee there is kinda cute i wonder are they single?" "Patience love Patience let's get to know them 1st before we ravaged them" he playfully glared at her whole they sped off into the night

Time skip to the next day

You arrived at the lovely day at the cafe maharu was a bit cranky while ziki was being a little shit as usually "Hey y/n ready to start the day?!" "Yes and you better not steal any of the expired treats KARI" she giggled while you playfully put of the middle finger at her you heard the bell behind you and immediately turned around giving them your biggest smile "hello my name is y/n and welcome to the cafe!"

Y/n!! Y/n!!

You looked up to see a familiar green hero suit freckled and green messy hair, brown eyes and pink cheeks with slightly longer hair

"Iuzku!? Ochaco!?"

#yandere bnha #yandere ua #tw yandere #yandere x reader #tw obsessive behavior #yandere class 1a #yandere mha #bnha fluff #tw stalking #romantic yandere #yandere ships

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