#and it's worse for me because im directly under them

[bitchyblkqueer]

someone complained about my neighbors being loud so now she's being louder on purpose I gotta get outta here

[shotmrmiller]

now im thinking about how you're technically johnny's wife of convenience but now also simon's girlfriend.

like maybe you're crazy but you do remember johnny telling you that you can see other people, just don't bring them home. but every time you try to, simon is there.

something always suspiciously happens when you're out, conveniently forcing you to cut the date short, and the one that picks you up is simon. he doesn't even let you walk yourself out either. he'll already be at your table, putting your phone and wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. and what's worse, with the one guy who didn't mind, the one who had asked for a raincheck, simon told him that you have a husband at home waiting for them with a warm dinner.

he chuckles under his breath at the guy's reaction— ashen face, wide eyes, and gaping mouth. "don't know what ya saw in tha' bloke anyway. he didn't even cover the bill." because simon stared at him until he skittered out the front door without a backward glance.

and then their dates. they're supposed to be a couple; you're just a front, so why do they keep taking you with them as a third wheel. is it an exhibitionist kink? because that's what it feels like every time they're together. it's all sloppy kisses, grabby hands and you swear that if you hadn't spun around and briskly walked away that one lazy saturday simon was home, they would've probably let you watch them fuck each other stupid on the living room carpet.

it's also hard to bring it up to johnny because either simon's there, leaning on the kitchen island with his arms crossed as he watches you exist, or is taking up far too much space on the couch so that if you want to sit there and watch the telly, you're obligated to press up against his massive thigh. (manspreading, simon? really? truly?) or you can't look him in the eye after listening to the headboard repeatedly slam against the wall all night. you can still hear johnny's moans curling around the edges of your very conscious.

then, you meet the rest of the 141: a tall, broad bear of a man with the ocean in his eyes and an iconic mutton chop beard. john price, he'd rumbled as he shook your hand. and then the other one, a devastatingly pretty man with chocolate-brown eyes, a small scar on his cheek, and perfect, white teeth. kyle, the boys call me gaz. a pleasure. he'd grabbed your hand with both of his as he also shook it.

johnny doesn't stick around, excusing himself quickly as he takes a phone call but simon does. he stands directly behind you— a suffocating presence a silent guardian— so close you can feel his body warmth on the expanse of your back.

little close there, eh simon?

no' at all, boss.

once he starts showing up at your college with lunch, you feel like your patience is dangling by a fragile, whisper-thin thread so you confront him directly.

only to have him shut you down in seconds.

what's johnny's is mine. now sit, i know ya didn't eat breakfast this mornin'.

at least he brought you your favorite meal:}

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

i absolutely fell in LOVE with your price fic holy shit. your writing is spectacular. then i read your request info and saw that you love keegan as well and my soul left my body.

So this is me requesting a keegan x reader fic bc i love this underrated man SO much!! maybe some enemies to lovers where one of them gets injured in the field and, thinking they're dying, a teary desperate confession ensues? lol im not good with prompts i just wanna see my man 🤧 thanks in advance i love ur work

(Don't) Go to War

Pairing: Keegan P. Russ x F!Reader

Synopsis: Some days it became impossible not to lose your tempers with each other. Being enemies was easier than admitting you cared.

Word Count: 12.3k

Warnings: Angst, enemies to lovers, blood & gore, vulgar language, fluff & comfort eventually, suggestive (just a tiny bit)

A/N: Just a few more requests to get done, and then my inbox should be open again. I'm thinking I might do an independent Gaz fic too...but idk yet. Enjoy, Love!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Some days it became impossible not to yell at him.

“I had the shot, Keegan!” Your voice carries over the hull of C-23 Sherpa, and you didn’t bother to stay strapped into your seat as the aircraft levels out around you. Thrusting your body up, your feet slam to the floor as you stalk over to the silent man who watches you with burning blue eyes, “If you hadn’t gotten in the way the target would be six feet under by now!” 

Your face was twisted with rage, and a need for justice laced your brain like an inextinguishable blaze of fire. 

Keegan and you had a violent streak of not getting along - to the point where Elias was close to separating the two of you permanently. It wasn’t entirely your fault, the man just got on your nerves when he acted like he could boss you around. No Man’s Land was your playground; you knew the trails, where to take shelter when needed, and what towns and backroads to avoid because of Federation occupation. You spent most of your time beyond the walls of Fort Santa Monica just like Keegan and the other Ghosts did – he had no right to lecture you out here. 

He had no right to fuck up the mission.

“Kid,” The man in question warns, his form tense from where it leans against the wall. Around the two of you, the aircraft shakes from turbulence. Keegan’s eyes narrowed to slits, and behind the cloth over his face you see his lips thin dangerously, “I’d be careful what you say next.” 

“Oh, shut the hell up!” You growl. The dirt and blood sticking to your skin makes you want to scratch at yourself with blunt nails; rip away the grime. Stomping up to Keegan you stand directly in front of him, a sneer heavy on your lips. Your body is shaking with adrenaline, “You have no right to tell me that. I worked my ass off getting that intel on Vidal Teo for months just for you to mess up my shot in no less than three seconds. What the fuck?!” 

Keegan’s dead eyes glare from behind the stain of his black eye paint, the custom balaclava shifting as his hidden face moves. Over his arms, his fingers tense and tighten; a pulsing atmosphere begins to perforate the hull. The already strained rope was snapping.

Vidal Teo was a high-ranking commander for the Federation soldiers stationed in a large portion of No Man’s Land. He was instrumental in leading the frontal assault on the Fort – which had been getting steadily worse as the years went on. Vidal was a man marked for death, and your bullet had his name carved into the silver grooves. 

He was yours. 

“I don’t like your tone, Princess,” Keegan hisses down at you, but his intimidation tactics don’t work. He was large, sure, with a gargantuan build that made your shoulders square, but the anger in your blood pumped with vengeance, “I’m in command of the mission, don’t go mixing it around. You listen to me.”

“Not when Teo was right fucking in front of me,” Your head whips to the side, hands clenched as you point a single finger into the man’s chest. The two of you were so close you could feel his gear brush against yours when he breathed. Inside your form, your pulse sings, “If you hadn't fired that shot all of this would have been finished. Now,” You lower your voice as his enraged eyes bore into you, “He’s off in the damn wind. We’ll never get an opportunity like that again.” 

“Back up.” Keegan stands straighter, arms falling to his sides, and at that moment a sliver of hesitance makes its way into your heart as his shadow looms over you, “Now. Before you do something you’ll regret.”

Clenching your jaw, your finger falls. No matter how pissed off you were at the Ghost, one thing he said was right. Keegan was in control of this mission – technically he was your superior at the moment. You should listen to him. 

Listen? Your eyes flash, Like he listened to me? I told him to not fire while I lined my scope up…Why the hell did he do that?

“The sooner you’re out of my life,” Growling, you stare deep into Keegan’s eyes and only slightly shiver at the intensity. You could feel his breath coming out in strained puffs, wafting over your face, “The better. This is on you…All of my goddamn work down the drain…” 

Jerking back as you grumble the last sentence under your breath, you storm past the Ghost’s stone-still figure and enter the cockpit, feeling his locked gaze on you the entire time. You slam the door shut, only serving to make the pilots snap their attention to you, mouths slack and optics wide.

“What?” You growl, glaring and practically releasing steam out of your ears. Damn that man and his stupidly handsome face…What?

The pilots quickly stutter back to their controls, backs straight, and heads forward. 

Blinking, you scrunch your lips; your sense coming back to you as your shoulders deflate. 

“Fuck,” Grumbling, you bring your hands up and place them on top of your head, lacing the fingers together as your elbows stick out. You glance remorsefully at the two stiff profiles, “Sorry, boys. Long day.” 

Elias was going to lecture you again. 

He always did when you and Keegan got into fights – they were becoming more and more recent in the past few months. From common disagreements about misplaced knives or weapons to full-blown yelling matches over accidents on missions, the recurring bouts of thrown words never seemed to end. 

You were so incredibly sick of it. 

Why were you always fighting with him? Why did every action strike you in the heart like a blade? You were always tense around Keegan, sending sharp glances at him every time he was in the vicinity and sharper words a second later. He did the same in return, it wasn’t like this was one-sided. The man was determined to push every button in the book, and damn it if you didn’t do that as well. 

Keegan was a man on a high horse; arrogant, hard-headed, rude, and held authority like a stick you could beat someone over the head with. He demanded utter perfection. 

Sighing violently, you lean back against the door and shove your palms into your eye sockets; head tilting back to rest on the cool metal and soothe the growing headache.

The problem was, most of the time the man was right when he told you something – whether work-related or not. 

“Tango to the left – weapons hot.”

“Contact Scarecrow, Exfil in five. We have a group just above the pharmacy building.”

“West, Kid. Snipers scope, take ‘em down.”

No Man’s Land was supposed to be your playground and all of a sudden some other kid comes along; starts throwing rocks at the equipment with a damn painted balaclava over his face. You didn’t want someone telling you how to do your job. 

Frowning, your teeth nash in annoyance. 

This flight back to Santa Monica couldn't end soon enough, and now you had months of Recon intel sitting in your office to throw into the trash.

—

You grabbed at the pinned-up files with paper-cut fingertips, looking over the contents before frowning. Tossing them to the side, your ears twitch at the flopping sound of them flying into the garbage bin at your feet. 

The bulletin board was bare of all the red yarn, maps, and intel that you had once hung up with pride. Vidal Teo was gone, and just so the board was once more empty. It was hard not to feel cheated, angry, but maybe a part of you felt emptiness as well. 

All of that work… just for one shot to mess it up. And the bullet wasn’t even from your own gun. 

“I swear,” You whisper, itching at your nose, “If I ever get up on a team with him again…” 

Trailing off, your legs shift and carry you to your desk where you throw yourself down into the chair. Thoughts of Keegan made your brain race, mind going to try and understand why. Even if you didn’t like the man, at least on the surface, you still respected him. 

So, why? None of it made sense. Why fire off into the city at an unidentified target and send Teo rushing for cover? Why not explain to you what had happened when you were back on the plane? If he had made a mistake and admitted that, you would have accepted it… eventually, of course, but you still would have accepted it regardless. You would have had to.

Licking your lips, you tap your knuckles onto the metal of your desk, playing a long-forgotten tune. You never heard the door open.

“Heard the Op didn’t go as planned, but at least the two of you didn’t kill each other. I’d have a helluva a lot of paperwork to do if you put a bullet in his ass,” Sitting up straighter your head snaps to the open doorway, seeing the stocky stature of Thomas Merrick with his arms crossed over his chest, “Still, though, heard ya’ nearly made those pilots piss their pants when you yelled at ‘em.”

“Merrick,” You groan out, tipping your head past the chair’s backing, your neck digging into the wood, “You’re acting like I try to be a bitch.” 

“Are you not,” When you glare at him, the man’s dark eyebrow raises slightly, “Because you’re failing at it – often. Elias’s at the end of his rope with you two.”

Grumbling, your nose scrunches, lips pulling back in a small snarl. 

“It’s not my fault. Keegan hates me just the same.” 

“That any excuse to yell at a superior?” Merrick sighs, shaking his bald head and walking forward, “Thought I trained you better than that?” 

Your eyes flicker to his own, but seeing the blatant disappointment in them, you find it better to look at the empty bulletin board. Swallowing stiffly, your feet shuffle on the floor. 

“Look at all my work, Thomas,” Shoving yourself to your feet, you walk to the small garbage bin and pick it up; holding it aloft, you watch the Ghost’s Field Officer's lips thin. There was a mass amount of wasted paper, pictures, and yarn that caught his eye. You go and slam it onto your desk, hearing the clatter as the pencil holder falls to its side, “Wasted. Because of one man’s actions – how many people are going to die now because I couldn’t make the shot? Ten, twenty, thirty…?” 

“Kid–” Merrick begins, but you cut him off – still angry at Keegan and trying to strangle down the guilt of pushing it onto Thomas.

“If you don’t mind, Merrick, I have a shit-ton of reports to sign and no time to do them,” Once more flopping back into your chair, you rub your hands over your face and feel the skin pull. If you were anyone other than yourself, you would be getting a reprimand for interrupting a superior like that but Merrick was something of a friend to you. 

Closing your eyes, you let the darkness behind your lids flood you as you take a deep breath. 

The Ghost leaves after a moment without noise or a sound of encouragement, but that was just how he was. You feel his dark eyes on you, lingering, before he closes the door behind him and stalks away. 

Finally left alone in silence, you let your thoughts run to try and answer the age-old question that ravaged your mind.

“What happened to make us like this?” You whisper, hands falling to your lap as you stare off into the distance with blank eyes. 

You had never given it much thought – sometimes people just didn’t like each other. Ingrained enemies written into the annals of time and cursed to forever be at each other's throats like rabid animals. But then you realized that this wasn’t high school and you were an adult living in a fucked up world full of death and war. Coworkers no longer had the privilege to talk shit about the other behind their backs or not communicate their problems; being out in No Man’s Land forced people to compromise and work together like a well-oiled machine. 

And well-oiled was not the way to describe yours and Keegan's relationship…more like a run-down and rusty car that screams every time you turn the key; practically begging someone to put it out of its misery. 

Blinking, you realize, perhaps for the first time, how much of a problem this predicament with Keegan really was. 

This could kill us both.

All of this began, you knew, a long time back, and, as it usually did, it had started out beyond the Fort before bleeding back into the ramshackle place you called home. The both of you were enemies far longer than you had been friends.

Your body was hot, sweat dripping down your temple and slipping the expanse of your chin, but still, you stood outside Elias Walker’s door with a tense jaw; fingers itching to rip into Keegan’s flesh. They were speaking inside, their voices hushed as your boots pooled mud and dirt onto the floor like a brand. 

“She…went over the ridge?” Elias asks, voice deep, “And she’s alive?”

“Hm,” Keegan makes a savage noise in the back of his throat, and you have to hide your panting breaths to hear it. The damn bastard was always so silent any sound would perk your ears, even if they were ringing with reverberations of spent bullets.

“Then I don’t exactly see what the problem is, Keegan.”

A pause.

“...She’s impulsive. Combative. Doesn’t listen,” There was an inhaled breath, and you feel your face burn at the profound gravel-toned words, lungs making your chest tighten as they zip closed as a bag would. But those next comments make you growl in the back of your throat, rage like fire in your heart, “I don’t want her. Kid’ll get the people she’s placed with killed if she’s allowed to do that again!”

A sigh through the shocked silence. 

“Then what do you suggest I do? She’s a valuable asset, I can’t just ground her – the Recon work she does is vital to finding Federation strongholds.”

“I don’t care what you do with her, Elias. Just keep her far away from me and the boys. Kid’s not my problem. Never want her to be again.”

Whatever harsh words are uttered next are lost to you, because your legs are already carrying you down the corridor with brimming tears stuck in the corners of your eyes. 

It was more the way he said it than the contents of the clipped sentences. Like you were less than him, pathetic, and unworthy. Nothing more than a rookie holding a gun and parading off into the wilderness to have a good time. That was what wrecked you.

The next time you saw Keegan it was only narrowed glances and clenched fists; terse words. When you snapped at him for the first time, you swear his eyes slightly widened, cold blue one second then boiling bright the next.

You liked that look on him – shocked into a different type of silence. A type of anger you could meet head-on.

Fighting with Keegan soon became too addicting to ignore, a constant activity that never changed like the destroyed world always did. A failsafe at the end of the day. 

 The anger had never dimmed, infecting you like a poisoned worm stuck in your veins and weaseling its way to your heart. It had only grown the longer you let it sit, and at the end of the day, you festered over the image of the Ghost’s face with his eyes digging into your skin. You stayed awake at night mulling over the arguments, taking the insults and words like bullet wounds to your heart with barely restrained tears; feeling guilty because you threw some back as well. 

But what hurt you the most was that, before the hushed meeting in Elias’s office, you had looked up to him. To Keegan. Perhaps you had even enjoyed his quiet company at one point when the loneliness of No Man’s Land got to you. The terrain was incredibly quiet in between the violent hails of gunfire and, on occasion, it would make paranoia infect your bones like a cancer; producing shaking limbs and tense fingers. When Keegan was with you…you hated to admit this, but he made the silence better. More survivable compared to when you were alone doing Recon with only a gun and a combat knife as deadly companions. 

Your narrowed lids flicker to the trash bin on the desk. 

There was still a small pinch of anger – resentment for the waste and for words spoken in haste – but your mind pulsed to find an explanation. A reason. 

There must be a reason that Keegan would fire off a shot into the city prematurely…obviously it was to hit a target, but why? And why hadn’t he told you the reason? 

I’m gonna rip my head apart if I keep thinking this over, You warn yourself, huffing under your breath. 

You had reports to write up – tell of your failure to kill Vidal Teo and how many lives that will ultimately cost in the future. While you were stuck with a pen in your hand, scribbling away even as the sun had set outside, you had no idea of the stare-down going on in Elias’s office one floor up.

—

Elias’s eyes are sharp, a wave of dark anger deep in the iris as he stands with his arms crossed behind his desk, “Why’d you fire?”

Keegan's feet are shoulder length apart and his arms are clenched behind his back, spine straight; a deep tension lives in the thick air, bearing down weight on the men. The Ghost was still in his gear, the balaclava and black face paint in all its glory situated over his head. That was his best form of armor, allowing him to hide the deep sneer over his cruelly scared lips. 

“Tango. Off in the next building,” Keegan’s voice was low, harsh, and cut to a point. He didn’t want to be there – there were many more important things to be done than getting a lecture like a five-year-old. 

His sniper rifle needed cleaning, rookies needed to be disciplined, and the treadmills were calling his name. He had to work off all the bullshit in his head.

“The Girl had the shot. Vidal Teo needed to die, Russ – she knew that well enough. I want an explanation as to why a high-priority target is still up and walking.” 

The silent beast of a man keeps his body still, even if his head is pounding. Hot adrenaline was still in his veins from how you were yelling at him in the Sherpa, the memory of your rage-twisted face burning into the back of his eyes. He had never seen you that angry before; shaking with the need to release your displeasure onto him. It had slightly taken him aback. 

Fighting with you was predictable. You’d both throw insults, get into each other's faces and cruelly break down each other's psyche piece by piece – the man knew what to say and where the unspoken line was just as you did. Fighting was easier than admitting there was something deeper going on, something that you two were hesitant to even speak of. 

But, hell, you had never gotten that upset at him previously. And, problem was, even if he wanted to deny it, Keegan knew he fucked up. Bad. 

There wasn’t a way in hell that he was going to tell you that, though. He wasn’t going to tell you that his finger had moved before his mind could, pulling down on the hair-trigger of his prized rifle like a fucking novice. Even now self-resentment was worming into him.

He had never felt that to this degree before. He didn’t like it – couldn’t afford to acknowledge it.

What gave you the right to provoke those emotions from him? Maybe I need to ask to have her transferred. Brat’s messin’ with my head.

“Miscalculation. Won’t happen again.” His feet shuffle, boots shifting silently over the floor like that of his title. Miscalculation – he doesn’t make those. Never had after ODIN hit the US. There wasn’t any room for them. 

Keegan was a master of taking lives with a swift movement and a pull of a trigger; no one had ever known him to be reckless. 

They had you for that.

Elias narrowed his eyes, head tilting, as a tightness is seen rippling through his jaw, “You’re going to have to lie better than that, Son.”

Keegan stilled, dead eyes boring into the other man’s. The sharp blue deepens, darkens. His shoulders set themselves, but the ingrained looseness is still there if someone looks close enough and spies it. Instinct is hard to fight. 

“Elias?” He asks from behind the fabric of his face covering but utters no more. 

Keegan was a man of few words – very few. Actions served him better, but in this room, there was no point to them. Walker was his superior; his Captain, but more so the closest thing to a brother Keegan would ever have. There wasn’t a choice in this, even if the men had gone through hell together as Ghosts. 

“Don’t play me for a fool, Keegan,” The graying man mutters out, shaking his head and going to rest his hands on the top of his desk, “I’ve known you a long time. You don’t fuck up something like this. Never have. So don’t insult me with that half-assed answer.” 

Elias pauses, sighing when Keegan just stares at him with blank, black-laced, hard eyes. The man was a damn empty slate, never moving, never giving away anything to betray his emotions.  

“I want a full report on my desk in a week. I’m sure the Kid’ll have hers done in a day, but I want you to explain yourself. In detail. You hear?”

“Copy.” 

“Dismissed.”

Keegan turns and leaves without another word, just a burning in his gut and a righteous sense of surety in his bloodstream. Your face slashes over his vision as he exits the room, he closes the door behind him and thumps down the halls. People move out of his way quickly, sending glances with pupils so tiny they practically disappear altogether; Keegan knew he was intimidating, especially with all his gear and smelling like gunpowder and blood. Didn’t bother him much. 

It seemed like it didn’t bother you either, judging by how you were in his face screaming all the time. 

Damn brat, Keegan thinks, itching at his nose bridge and sending stiff glances at the rows and rows of closed doors and windows, She doesn’t know anything.

Before long his feet had carried him down corners and hallways as his head pounded, and it wasn’t a surprise that when he shook himself out of his trance the entire make-up of the floors and walls had changed. 

Wait…where was he? 

His pace slows to a stop, and his eyebrows furrow in confusion. Where had he ended up while his mind was running at the thought of you? This had never happened before – the Ghost’s head was all out of sorts if he was talking walks around the Fort without a destination. Every action of his had a purpose, why was that now becoming anything less than fact? 

Annoyance plagued him.

Sliding his eyes around, a certain office window catches his viper-like attention. It was the only one with a light still on, warm rays shining out into the hallway, and the shuffling of paper and manila folders flowing to his ears. The door was only minutely ajar, a sliver, and nothing more. About to turn around and leave the area, Keegan halts at the sound of a familiar voice grumbling. His heart jerks.

Blue eyes narrow, and that annoyance at himself grows to find an external outlet.

The hell is this Kid doin’ up so late? Doesn’t she know when lights out is? Fuck, looks like she can’t follow simple guidelines either.

With shuffling feet, he takes a step forward and has every intention to bust down the door and force you to the barracks; lecturing you on the importance of rest when he suddenly realizes something.

Why does he care if you get a good night's sleep? 

Growling under his breath, he happens to get a glimpse of a moving shadow through the window that gives him pause with one gloved hand on the woodgrain of the door. If possible, he feels his body completely stop at the scene; his eyes flickering into a widened look. 

And what was that tightening in his chest?

You were staring at the hung-up bulletin board, having dragged your desk chair over and situated it right in front of the bare rectangle that once held an innumerable amount of papers and information. 

Keegan had seen it himself right before the mission had started. Your eyes lit up when you could tell him everything you knew about the target from his schedule to what he ate in the mornings.

Eggs with a protein bar. Two cups of milk.

You had gathered all of that info yourself – countless trips into Federation-occupied territory that left you coming back with bruises and deep lacerations. Keegan knew; he had watched you limping back through the gate with a shielded look in his eyes. But now the board was blank and useless, holding nothing but your knowledge that it was once filled with your labors. 

The Ghost’s hand on the door loosens, and he takes a slow inhalation of breath as your tired eyes get glossy. When had you gotten those bags under your eyes? Keegan’s lips pull thin behind his balaclava. Had…had you always looked that tired? 

Had you both really been fighting so much that he had stopped noticing the most basic parts of you that he had watched so closely before?

“I had it…” Keegan’s shoulders tense when he hears you speak, but he doesn’t move. A needle of guilt moved to dig deeper. Your hopeless sigh leaves him gritting his teeth, “Fuck.” 

Digging your palms into your eyes, he watches you shake, limbs tense and hunched over nearly into a ball. He has the sudden urge to push the door open, not to scold you but to simply stand by your side. Tell you the truth. 

Keegan’s eyebrows pull together, gaze flicking away from you so his brain can focus. But it was like a magnet was stuck behind his optics because it wasn’t long before his eyes flowed back to the small figure. 

He stays there for a good while, watching, with a weighted chest and pounding heart. Keegan couldn’t really say what he was thinking about, but all of it certainly involved you. So why couldn’t he open the door?

When your head jerks back up, his eyes widen, body swiftly moving back. 

By the time you look out the office window, his shadow is already disappearing down the hallway. 

—

You nearly lose your cool when Elias tells you Keegan was accompanying you out into No Man’s Land once more. The bags under your eyes burned – weeks had passed since the fight, and you had gotten little sleep since then. 

“Teo was sighted by one of the drones near an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of San Francisco. I want you and Keegan on the trail, and, hopefully,” Elias mutters as Merrick and Ajax listen in the background. Your apparent partner stands behind you, leaning back on the wall with his arms crossed, “We can put this to rest.”

Standing rail-straight, your face is twisted but you keep yourself under control. Even being in the same room with Keegan made you want to lash out. At your sides, your hands slowly clench into tight fists, and behind you, a sharp gaze digs its claws into your skull.

He’s watching you. Studying like he always does when he thinks you don’t notice. 

“Sir,” You answer the older Ghosts blankly, lips stiff, “If you think that’s best.” 

“I do,” Merrick raises a brow behind Elias, and you pretend not to notice as Ajax’s shoulders shake, “That going to be a problem?”

Ironically, Keegan and you both answer at the same time, a strangling silence before a snarled, “No, Sir.” 

The pair of you shipped out in thirty minutes, but neither of you bothered to look at the other as you gathered supplies in the armory; grabbing magazine after magazine and strapping knives to thighs, arms padded with thick clothes and heavy black combat vests. Keegan was applying his face paint despite the dark color already stained into his eye sockets. You doubted it could come off anymore – the skin was probably so damaged by the chemicals it was pointless to try. Like some brutal birthmark. He slipped the balaclava over soon after.

The fabric covered the dark hair and strong jaw, slightly marred with stubble – long scars that grew harsher when his skin twisted; the angled lips below a sharp nose that had captured your attention the first time you had seen them. Keegan was undoubtedly handsome, carved from stone and silver – the remnants of that artistry only now glimpsed in his eyes as a cold reminder. It was funny, you thought, that someone so beautiful could be such an ass. You watched him, terse-like, and grabbed a revolver hanging from the rack, shoving it into your thigh holster. 

He was acting off. 

Keegan was more silent than he usually was; at this point, he would at least make a quick quip about your annoying habit of packing extra ration bars in your front pouch. 

‘Gonna weigh you down, Kid, if you stuff one more of those damn things into your vest.’

But the more you sneaked glances, the more your feet started to shuffle in unease. The Ghost wouldn’t even look at you. 

“You sick or something?” Your voice carries, echoing off the walls as you tighten the vest strap on your side. You had never bothered to be subtle when talking to the man – he appreciated bluntness, and that was one thing you could get behind. 

“No,” Keegan slips past, suddenly colder than ever before, and disappears without another word. 

Watching his back shift as he strides off, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion and perhaps a bit of shock. 

What the hell was that? You ask yourself, hands falling to your sides where they twitch. Keegan was damn confusing, but he had never been outright numb like that to you besides when you both first met. Your resentment flares in your breast, but with a shake of your head, you force it down. That wouldn’t help anyone, and you still wanted answers. 

If this was how Keegan wanted to be then fine, you’d just have to ask Elias for his report when you got back and figure out for yourself why he had ruined the previous mission. 

You grabbed a canteen of water and shuffled out the door, flicking off the light with a heavy finger and followed after the Ghost’s footsteps; dreading the Op but feeling your pulse beat at the thought of nabbing Teo once and for all. 

This was ending. Today. 

—

The aircraft landed just far enough away to be unseen by Federation soldiers and on the line of being annoyingly distant from the target. The hike would be through mountainous terrain – the land ravaged by the remnants of ODIN’s destruction and just beginning to heal. On top of steep cliffs, and sharp rocks, there would also be rampaging streams and thick foliage. Speaking from experience, you knew it was going to be a sweat-inducing mission…and that was before you got to the main point of it all. 

Both of you disappear into the treeline after the pilot tells you the future Evac Point, hoofing it at a jog into the shadows and blending in like animals. Under your feet, the leaves crush, telling stories of where you placed your weight as the packs over your body jump with every jerk forward. Keegan takes the lead, silently expecting you to follow as your eyes stare into his back. 

He still hadn’t talked to you. It made your skin crawl.

Watching his gait, you frown and clench your jaw. Why did it bother you so much? Wasn’t this what you wanted all along…for him to leave you alone? 

Sighing, you hop over a downed log, seeing Keegan quickly send a look behind him at your form before snapping his head forward. 

“There’s an old structure west of the Warehouse – a hunting lodge still standing from before ODIN was fired, I found it on one of my other Ops,” You call, moving faster to run side-by-side with the man. Dodging a tree, your tongue runs over your lips, “We should set up there – we’d have a clear shot.”

For a moment there was only the sound of shoved foliage, steady breaths, and clinking gear before Keegan replies. 

“Affirm.” 

He pulls ahead, and you’re left widely watching his shoulders, seeing the muscles under his attire ripple as they propel him faster away. Your eyelids narrow, a thin sneer flickering over your lips.

Keep your cool, You follow after, careful where you place your feet as the ground begins to ascend, If I get him in a good mood, maybe he’ll answer my questions later. 

It was easier said than done, of course, and although your efforts were valiant, none of your plans to get him to speak to you landed. The hike ended with panted breaths and a setting sun, mist seeping like snakes over the rocks under your feet; the world was quiet, and try as you might you found a deep sense of loneliness in that. The pair of you were on top of a ridge, surrounded by deep green and gray. No birds sang, and no animals trampled the land – it was just the harsh wind and the creak of stretching metal from far ahead. The occasional smell of dirt that left your nose full of particles and led to coughing fits.

Perhaps Keegan had the right idea for a face covering, even if it was never intended for the reason of keeping the elements out.

The Warehouse was near a crater, one of the places ODIN had struck directly into the Earth, and teetered on the edge of oblivion as it was half-falling apart and drenched in red rust. Occasionally, as a tremor rolled through, pieces of it would fall off and slam to the ground a million miles away, deep into the crust of what was left. 

Definitely a place for a safe house. No one would bother to look here unless you already knew about it or were hiding something.

Thinking to yourself, you rub the sweat off your nose with the back of your hand, eyes flickering to the hole in the Earth with shielded disgust. It had been over ten years, but the horror was still there. All of those innocent people… 

“Here,” The smooth voice startles you, but your attention diverts quickly to the man at your side. His hands hold out a red cloth in his first and second fingers and pointedly avoids sneaking a peak at your shocked expression. Your mouth opens and closes, optics bouncing back and forth between the gift and the strange Ghost. 

You could hear a pin drop if you had one to throw.

“The fuck are you doing?” 

“Your stench is going to alert the guards – wipe yourself off. I need to repeat myself, Princess?” With an unamused face, you snatch the textile and rub it over your heated skin, reveling in the dismissal of layers of salt. 

“Asshole,” You mutter, “You better not have used this before me; if I get acne I’m shaving your head in your sleep and siccing Riley on you.” 

“Sounds fun. Better make sure I’m dead by the end of it.”

“Trust me, I will. I’ll make sure to chuck your body from the Fort wall, too,” Sliding past him, you toss the cloth at his chest, “Hunting lodge is this way.” 

You get so close your shoulders lightly brush, and although you hate the implications, the action leaves your chest tight as you inhale his scent of blood and shrill chemicals. Clenching your jaw, you don’t take in the way his warmth floods your veins or the cold gaze that follows your back as you walk away; briefly softening around the edges like a blunt blade before being sharpened once more under stone and rock.

Hearing his feet lightly caress the ground behind you, you let out a slow breath, shoving away a branch of a low tree and peeping back. Keegan's gaze locks on your own as if he was waiting for this, and you curse not being able to see his expression – but it wasn’t like that would give away anything either. The Ghost was blank, much like the bulletin board had been when you ripped your work from it.

Raising a dark brow, the man grunts under his breath in question as his large shadow leeks over your form. 

“Nothin,’” You mutter and turn back, fixing the strap of your rifle and side step a piece of cut wood, looking like it was the remains of a windowsill that had been broken during the shockwave and flung from a house, “Thanks for the rag. Even if it did smell like Gun Oil.”

Blinking down at the forgotten object, your arms push through one more set of fauna and huff when you lay eyes on the run-down lodge that would be Base Camp. Rushing up the decaying steps, you push the paint-peeing door open and throw your hands out.

“And here we are,” Walking with acute familiarity into the one-room area, “Home sweet home,” You nod your head to the left, where a large window gives a clear view of the Warehouse down below, “We’ll take the shot from over there, but…here…where did I…?” 

Stumbling to a stop, you take one step back and ignore the narrowed eyes on your back.

“The hell you looking for, Kid?” 

“Shh,” You snap your fingers at a loose board near a broken-down TV stand, “There we go!” Jogging over, you place your foot on one end of the board and grab the now-propped-up opposite side with a heavy hand. Like a teeter-totter. 

Tossing the wood away, you grab the stash you had hidden years ago and hold it aloft near your head as you turn around.

Keegan watches with small eyes, head tilted, and feeling a bit curious about where this was going. What were you holding in your hand…? Was that…?

“Chocolate bars? I thought those were under strict ration laws?” His booted feet carry him closer to you and the plastic bag holding three bars of the old treat, “Damn, Kid.” 

The man didn’t ask how you knew they were there – at least, yet – but he had an idea. You had logged more hours outside than anyone else besides the Ghosts, and with your affinity to keep to your own, it was only common sense that you had stashes all over California.

“Special occasion,” You mutter, opening the bag and tossing him one. Of course, he catches it, flipping it over in his hands and rubbing a thumb over the wrapper. Keegan’s eyes filter back to yours slowly, and under him, his feet shuffle to shift his weight. 

“Y’know these things are probably older than Fort Santa Monica, right? It’ll give you gut rot.”

“God, I hope so,” You rip the wrapper open and snap off a piece as you hear crinkling from the other bar being opened; you toss yours into your mouth and smirk, “Maybe Ajax’ll finally lend me his alcohol stash to help me out for once. Bastard keeps making excuses.”

The bar was a bit stale if you were being honest, but it was still chocolate in your books. Stuffing the rest of it in your side pocket, you slip the rifle from around your back and head to the window, with the butt of the gun you raise it up and bring it down. A corner of the glass shatters into a million pieces, falling to the ground outside like tiny stars and reflecting the dying light. 

Far below, miles away, the Warehouse seems dead to the world, but your and Keegan’s trained eyes spy the microscopic shadows in the rust-strangled metal walls, slipping past like rats over the holes and windows. 

“Visual?” The man next to you asks, pulling back down his balaclava, and your ears twitch as you gaze through your scope; watching with perfected focus. Pulling back with a grunt, you flip the gun and rest the barrel against the wall, sighing.

“Negative. There won’t be until the sun sets fully,” Keegan turns to look down at you, and the fabric around his mouth shifts into a frown. You raise a brow and explain, not needing him to ask his question, “I‘ve tracked this guy like a teenager on the internet who has a crush. I know his routine. When the sun sets he checks the perimeter with two of his guards, Fabián Julieta and Santos Rosa – I have reason to believe they’re his cousins, but it’s never been confirmed.”

“You sure he’ll do that?” Keegan scoffs, looking back out and tapping his fingers over his thigh holster, “There was just an attempt on his life. Not exactly the time to follow procedure.”

“Well, I suppose I’ll have to leave it to fate. Plus,” You can’t help but mutter, “We wouldn’t have been in this situation if you hadn’t messed up.”

The air thickens.

Keegan’s body stills, frozen like his bones had just been covered in frost and doused in frigid waters. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch with bated breath. But he notices the trap, it seems, because his neck never enters the snare laid out. The tension that had lived over you both like a dark cloud suddenly gained lighting, quick flashes of light over the sky.

“It’ll be too dark by then,” Is his only response – even if it’s clipped and growled out like a man ready to snap. He wanted to start an argument, you could tell with growing amusement. Keegan’s arms clench at his sides into shaking fists.

“Then it’s a good thing Ghosts can see in the dark,” You smirk, tilting your head to the side and beginning to reach for the rest of the chocolate bar resting in your pocket, “Isn’t that right? Make sure not to freak out and fire at the birds–!” 

The hand latches onto your shoulder before you can process the man had even moved; eyes widening to the size of plates as the pressure snaps your body to face forward. You let out a light yip as your feet drag. Despite the hold being firm, Keegan’s fingers never dig too tight.

Your eyes level on his, gazing deep into his boiling blues that shimmer the longer you stare. Had the middle always had flecks of green? Inside your chest, your heart pounds like a drum as, behind the balaclava, his jaw clenches. Keegan’s breath is like a breeze over your hair, rustling it. 

“Don’t…do that,” He says slowly. You just watch, wide-eyed, “Don’t speak on shit you have no idea about.” 

Whatever had made your lungs constrict fled in an instant.

“What?” Your lips twist, “You mind telling me how I’d have ‘no idea’ about an Op I was supposed to come back with a confirmation of death on?” 

You shove his arm off your shoulder and hate the way the chill of the air overtakes his warmth. 

Keegan’s shoulders set, “Kid, I’m ordering you to–”

“Cut the shit!” You yell, finger going to shove into his face and watching his head whip to it before wafting back to your visage. If possible his shoulders widen even farther, legs tense and straight. This was it – your confusion would go no further, you decided, “You’re going to explain all of this, Keegan–!” 

“Watch the damn volume–”

“Explain why I’m out here, why you messed up the mission–!”

“Listen to me. I need you to–”

“Why my fucking work was all wasted because you pulled the damn trigger and I’m reaping the consequences like an idiot with a guy who hates my guts–!”

“There was a sniper on the roof.”

Your rampage stops just as you were about to open your mouth once more. You stare at him at the bombshell, not even able to process it for a moment. Blinking, you realize you had moved Keegan backward so his back was pressed into the opposite wall; your body was pressed tightly up next to his. With every fast breath, you could feel your chest connect with his, and your finger was still against his peck, digging into the gear. 

Sucking in a quick breath, you gathered what little courage you had gained and looked up into his face with a fire lit in your blood. 

“...W-what?” Keegan’s body shifts and his arms go to grab your elbows. 

He doesn’t move you, just gives them a firm squeeze and explains as his heart pounds in his chest. Under the cloth, his mouth is slightly parted, and his pupils are wide.

“Federation sniper,” He utters, blinking as your face goes void of emotion, “I didn’t know if he’d seen you yet, but I…” 

The Ghost trails off as his thigh brushes yours, all of the pouches uncomfortable to feel digging into his skin, but worth it if he can make this right.

“Why…Why didn’t you tell me?” You whisper out, the skin of your eyebrows moving to press the tiny hairs closer together. This changed everything, “Why did you…?”

Keegan’s face is so close to yours that he can smell your shampoo through the dark fabric over his nose, suddenly suffocating on the comfort the covering usually brought him. Why was his heart racing in his chest? You were being irresponsible, yelling like that, and stubborn, hard-headed. 

But, damn, if anger wasn’t a good look on you. Your body heat was leaking into him, making him swallow heavily.

“Because…knew you’d blame yourself,” He said simply, staring at you deeply as your expression softens just as Keegan’s body does against the wall; you lean in deeper to his hold, “Just didn’t expect you to take it all so hard.”

“What? You just wanted me to let it go?” You utter, feeling and finally admitting how addicting it felt to be this close to him. For the life of you, you can’t find it in yourself to look away from him. What was happening?

“Again, didn’t know you’d take it so hard,” He raises a brow, grip falling from your elbows to lightly grab your hips. You force down a shiver, veins alight with molten lava at the strange contact. The Ghost continues, “Where’d you get the idea I hated you?”

Your throat swallows down saliva, not understanding the feeling in your gut. 

Shit, You think, Maybe that chocolate was bad – my head’s spinning…All I can smell is Keegan. But why am I not trying to leave?

Just a moment ago you were angry at him, but now everything made sense. A sniper, God, he could have just told you. It would have fixed a lot of things.

You mull over his question; do you answer it honestly? But for some odd reason, your mouth runs faster than your mind – it always had, and certainly always would. At least around Keegan, that is.

A breaking point had been reached, wherever you went from here was entirely up to the two of you.

“You said you didn’t want me,” The man’s breath stills, and you feel it just as you hear it; his scanning optics halt their study of your features, as if he had been seeing them for the first time in this light, “That I’d get people killed…why…why do you think I always work by myself nowadays?” Your nose begins to hurt, eyes falling to Keegan’s chest. You try to shove it down, but your hand over his vest shakes slightly. Where was this coming from? Why were you telling him this? The source of your animosity, how you two became, at least in your mind, enemies, “I just didn’t want to be a problem.”

Muttering out the last sentence, you swear Keegan’s chest hitches, heart kickstarting. 

“I…” He begins after a long moment of mutually avoiding eye contact. If you look into those beautifully cold blues you might break. 

But voices from below snap whatever the both of you would externally loathe but internally revel in; the longing in the two pairs of eyes is replaced by duty and unsaid words. The action was mechanical, and both parties rushed to the window, with your fingers grasping the rifle and Keegan grabbing the binoculars from his largest pouch. 

Like birds of prey, the two work in such sync that others would question if they even hated each other at all – and if they had seen the scene just moments prior the thoughts of denial would have been strengthened ten-fold. 

Did you hate Keegan? Or did you hate what he had done? Now really wasn’t the time to question it, but as the Ghost called out the distance and spotted Vidal Teo in pitch darkness, you can’t help but mutter, “Knew you could see in the dark, Kee,” And lined up the shot. 

Your finger pulls the trigger with little more than a second thought, and your shoulder catches the recoil with a grunt leaving your lips. 

“Direct hit. Target down,” A soft hand squeezes your shoulder as you watch the body drop from the scope. Grim satisfaction breeds in your heart. Your eye roves to Keegan’s face, who nods his head at you, “It was a good shot, Princess.”

Face heating, all you do is scoff, rolling your eyes, “Yeah, well…I suppose you called it.”

“Really, you can’t just take the compliment?“

“Do you want me to beat you over the head with this rifle?”

You both stand up and send coded glances to the other, and where the backhanded comments would usually be hostile, the small differences in presentation lean more toward teasing than anything. 

It was…nice. Foreign, but nice.

Chuckling, you toss the rifle around your back and listen to panicked voices echoing out from the warehouse. Keegan still stands near the window, with his back to it, while you inch to the door and itch at the back of your neck. He stares at you strangely, no doubt thinking about what you had confessed prior.

He had no idea you had heard the conversation with Elias. The Ghost’s chest constricts, remembering the words he had said in concern and anger. Had you really heard all of it? That would explain the sudden cold attitude that was mirrored back to him all those months ago.

Damn, Keegan blinks, and his head tilts as you stare back at him with a questioning expression. Your face was innocent with sweaty flesh filled with dust and grime. His fingers itched to wipe away the slash of black dirt from your forehead and, against his will, his stone blue softened to water in his eye sockets.

Your lips twitch at the rare expression. You had a lot to talk about when you both get back to base. 

“We should get going before–” 

Glass shatters, and a loud pop like an opening soda can startles you so bad you swore your heart stopped. Two things happen in that instance that will be ingrained into your head forever, carved like a scar in the fine tissue and tender to the touch.

One, his blood splattered your face, making you blink rapidly and reel back.

Two, the sound of Keegan’s hitting the floor – deadweight – and the loud gasp that exits his mouth, all the air expelled from his lungs not allowing him to even scream.

“Keegan!” You yell, rushing over and grabbing onto his shoulders, flipping him over with a grunt and panicked breath as you brush away the crimson from your eye sockets with a fast hand, “Shit!”

His body slams once more to the old wood, this time his back now on the floor. Blood pools down from a gunshot wound over his right abdomen, and your eyes land on it immediately, lungs struggling to suck down air.

Below you, Keegan lets out a wheezing sound, arm coming half-up to clench in the space above him, shaking violently. 

“Fucken’...” The man gasps, and his body jerks, trying to move despite the hole in his side. Your fingers rip open your medical pouch, eyes darting back to the window. You lightly stand up, frantic eyes darting and freezing. Spying a glint of light reflected from the moon, you quickly dip back to the floor.

Sniper scope. 

Rushing to grab Keegan under the shoulders, he yells out curses as you drag him to the side and out of the line of sight of the window. Tearing out a rag and a roll of gauze from your stash, you look at his face as you shove the cloth against the leaking wound, bunching the fabric and working it into the crater. 

Keegan snarls, head going back to slam to the floor as his eyes flutter. Those blues of his were wide and whizzing back and forth in a primal display, and behind the balaclava, you could see his throat bob with strangled, open-mouthed, breaths. Fuck, fuck, fuck…!

“Hey!” You shout, bringing up one hand and lightly slapping his cheek as you lean your body weight into his side. Your heart was going too fast, it was going to break out of your chest if you didn’t get a grip. But…Keegan’s blood was staining your hands; leaking down your face to drip from your chin. And the fact remained that the Federation soldiers now knew your position and were rushing to the dilapidated lodge. You needed to get him out of here, “Keep your damn eyes open – the only person who gets to kill you is me!”

“What…what the fuck, Princess?”

“You heard me!” Your body was shaking just as much as Keegans as you gnash your teeth together, “‘Doesn’t listen,’ my ass, your ears work less than mine do.” 

You’re panicking; using born and breed sarcasm and clipped words to ease you back into focus.

You had to move him – had to get him out of here. But would you be able to? He was big; far larger than you and weighed twice as much in muscle alone, not to mention the gear... Your mind did the math even as you pleaded with it not to. 

He would have to help you on his own if this was going to work. And that meant keeping him conscious.

Keegan lets out a loud cough, and your fingers itch to move his face-covering so he can breathe better. But you unravel the gauze instead, going to shift his body to wrap it around the rag – holding it in place. 

“Gotta’ move,” He snarls at you, trying to keep the pain at bay as it sweeps over him like waves of water, in and out, in and out.

“Working on it.” 

Right as you tie off a tight knot on the already bloody wrappings, the Ghost tries to get up, an arm turning to slam to the floor behind him and vibrate as he forces his weight on it. Knowing that was a bad idea but not having another choice, you loop one of his arms over your shoulders and grunt. Bearing the brunt of his weight you hold your breath and angle your feet; shoving with all of your strength and gasping out. 

“What the hell do you eat, man? Rocks?” As you grip with your free hand at his limp wrist, you take a quick glance at Keegan when you don’t hear a response. When he’s up, one of your hands goes to wrap around his waist. 

The man’s eyes were fluttering fast, pupils retracted in pain. The blood leaking from him stains your body as you hike his form closer to you, feeling the warmth of the flesh enter your skin like a candle’s flame. 

“Keegan!” You call, shaking his body. The man lets out a low groan, sharp eyes snapping to yours. You're taken aback when you see them immediately soften as they land on your panic-laced form, “You’ve gotta help me, okay?”

Speaking slowly, you hope he listens as he blinks at the blood on your face, eyebrows tensing.

“Copy,” He mutters and sends about the closest he can to a stiff nod your way. 

Immediately all weight is taken from your hold and he stumbles to stand up straight, a hand snapping to his side as his feet drag.

“Not all of it! Idiot!” Growling, you rip him back to you, hissing in disapproval as he lets out a deep curse; nearly falling into you. Forcing him forward, you go as fast as you’re able to the entrance door and already a sheen of exertion is falling over your face. How the hell is he so heavy?

“Fuckin’ confusing, Kid…Just tell me what you– what you want, I’m bleeding out here,” Keegan barks, annoyance falling from him onto you. Was it really that impossible for the two of you to get along that you were fighting while he was seeping crimson all over you? You were getting along just a second ago.

“You’re impossible, Keegan Russ,” You lock onto him in the corner of your eye as you practically drag him to the door, shoving it open with your shoulder. Your fingers dig into his side and his wrist, trying not to get distracted by the strong muscle you feel writhing under your touch. Without meaning to, your grip had gravitated under his shirt, touching bare skin littered with scars and burns – hot and pulsing with life.

Your grip goes deeper, nails creating crescent moons in his flesh as you, somehow, get him down the stairs without falling flat on your face.

Did he just shiver?

“Evac point,” Muttering to yourself, you move faster, heart beating as shouts echo out over the hills, “Shit.”

“Focus,” Keegan utters to your side, “Don’t think about it. What…what’ll happen will happen.”

“Bullshit,” You growl and glance back to see the trail of blood over the ground. Shaking your head you stumble into the treeline, mouth open to help you suck down more air into your lungs, “If you expect me to believe that, you’re a fool.”

“..Maybe,” He coughs, and you have to pause for a moment and look in concern as dark phlegm splatters to the ground. No, you think, no not yet. He can’t do this to you, “Maybe I have been.”

“What,” You attempt a wet chuckle, not liking the conversation but if it kept him awake you would entertain it, “It only took you taking a shot to the side to realize that? There’s no hope for you, Kee.”

“Like when you call me that,” Lips thinning, you work your legs faster, dodging a rock and shimmying past a tree, “Sounds nice.” 

Your face heats at the shock-induced confession, breath inhaled in a sharp breath. 

You look at him, only to find his eyes already locked on your visage. The unrelenting optics ripped you open with how lucid they looked, even if his mouth seemed to have lost its filter. Taking it as a good sign, you tear your head back to the front, biting into your lips as your legs shake.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” You whisper, clearing your throat as Keegan lets out a small strangled sound from the back of his mouth as you stumble over a log on the ground, “But keep talking to me, yeah?”

“I don’t hate you,” He confessed with a soft voice, “...Was jus’ worried you would hurt yourself. Too hard-headed for your own good.”

“Could say the same thing about you,” Your lungs are burning, but you remind yourself it’s not even half as much pain as Keegan is going through. He carries himself so well, even holding some of his own weight to help you. How was he even still standing? If you had gotten shot like that, you’d be screaming your head off.

He’s a Ghost, You remind yourself, They defy all laws of nature and common sense.

“I’m sorry, Kid,” That makes you stop, body halting halfway through a step as your face blanks, panting out air and eyes popping out at the weak words, “You didn’t deserve to hear that.”

Swallowing down saliva into your dry throat, your mind tells you to keep moving. The meeting in Elias’s office…he was…he was apologizing to you? Stuttering only a moment, you resume your break-neck journey with a burning face and jumping heart. 

“Apology not accepted,” You growl, sending a sharp glance his way. Keegan’s eyes widen in surprise – but they look slightly buggy, “When we get back to the Fort, you’re saying it again…When you’re not getting me all covered in your fluids.”

The chuckle he lets out startles you, but you resist the urge to bring him even closer to your form and bask in his heat. He was…nice to feel against you, you admitted. Strong. Comforting in a rabid dog sort of way.

“Yeah, but you’d like…like that wouldn’t you, Princess?”

…Did he just..? When your jaw drops in shock, he lets out another gasping chuckle that divulges into a coughing fit. Getting your bearing back, you roll your eyes above the embarrassment in your blood even as your lower body pulses. Your legs shuffle as your breath goes thin.

“Let’s keep the dirty jokes under wraps, too, okay?... Who knew blood loss made you into a fucking comedian? Mr. Stand-Up over here.”

“Hm,” Keegan grunts, wheezing in a breath. You watch a dribble of blood fall from the side of his mouth with a grim face, mind running. 

He can’t die, You shake with nerves and adrenaline, I won’t let him. 

There was a brimming affection for the man you had been forcing down like a mouthful of food, and his drunk honestly right now was throwing you for a loop.

“I’ll get you to the Evac point, Keegan, I promise,” The shouts were getting closer, and the Ghost’s eyes were falling closed once more. 

You wanted to see his face – make him stare at you.

“Know you will,” His eyes clenched closed and you felt his weight fall more over you. Groaning breathily, you take it and continue onward with little concern for how your nerves tingle, “Y’know,” The next words he says are so muffled you barely hear them, but when your brain processes the gravel and sifts through the depth of it, you feel tears wet the sides of your vision, “I think I a-actually like you, Kid.”

Keegan goes slack, and the sounds of shouting grow ever closer. It takes everything in you not to scream out.

—

He wakes up with a buzzing in his ears and a bright light assaulting his eyes. It takes Keegan a good while to fully open his eyelids, flinching as the bulbs set into the ceiling seem to only get more violent as his senses come back to him. 

A groan exits his lips, and the scent of bleach and sterile air makes his head rove on the hard pillow under it.

“Well,” A masculine voice results in Keegan jolting up like he was hit with an electrical current, body spasming at him to stay still but not able to stop the ingrained instincts in his head, “Took you long enough. Ajax was just about losing his mind for one of you two to wake up. Had to order him to go run laps.”

“Merrick,” Keegan clenches his hands in pain, but his eyes fall to the man sitting in one of the visitor chairs at the door. The Medical Ward's familiar walls soon entered his sight, and ignoring the flair of agony in his bandaged side, the dark-haired man brought a hand to his face. Keegan takes a deep breath and flinches, “Explain.”

“What happened,” Standing, the stocky man cracks his neck, rolling his shoulders before glancing down to his side. Merrick points over Keegan's shoulder and nods his head, “Is that the girl dragged your limp ass all the way to the Evac point with a bullet wound in ‘er shoulder. Took out a few soldiers as well – one helluva hot exit.”

Sneaking a peak back, Keegan was stunned to find a matching hospital bed not a few feet from his own, a rack for a curtain drawn back to allow a view of a woman asleep; her right arm was in a sling and heavily bandaged, the covers pulled back to her midsection. You. His eyes stay locked on your form, momentarily forgetting the pulling of sutures in his side. 

You had…gotten shot. Protecting him.

“How bad,” His lips move faster than his head, a trait he was beginning to pick up and associate with only you.

“You needed to go into surgery–”

“Not me,” Keegan growled, itching at the gown that had been put on him. His eyes never left you, the peaceful expression on your face he had never seen before leaving a warm feeling in his gut. With a sigh, he mutters out with a tone far softer than it had been before, “Her.”

Merrick smirks, watching the rise and fall of your chest and seeing Keegan doing the same, just far more closely. 

“Prescribed pain meds and on leave for two months. It was a clean shot – lucky for her.”

Keegan nods his head stiffly, moving the pillows up on the elevated mattress and leaning back with a throaty groan. 

“I’ll go tell Elias you’re awake,” Merrick swiftly turns and opens the door, but pauses in the opening. The other man watches closely with a frown. Without turning around, Thomas utters, “Kid was pretty shook up when you wouldn’t come ‘round. You should fix that.”

The Ghost disappears and closes the door behind him. 

Blinking at the wooden barrier, Keegan wastes no time in pushing back the covers of his bed and pressing his feet to the floor; hissing at the chill but only running a hand through his hair in retaliation. His dark eyes watched you as he gritted his teeth at the strain in his side, the faint ripping of stitches. 

The pain didn’t bother him, didn’t sway his actions. His socked feet move over the floor to stand above you. He breathes slowly, sucking down cool air as he pauses for a minute or two.

“You’re something else, Kid,” Keegan whispers, cold eyes narrowing as his thumb goes to swipe away the dirt smudge on your forehead with delicate movements. He didn’t want to wake you. 

The mirror across the room shows a beast of a man carefully cleaning the face of a woman who murmurs to herself, shifting closer to the hold with a small sigh. Keegan, whose lips quirk in a small smile that pulls at scars and black, irreversible, face paint, finds the warmth in his blood addicting. His heart slowly speeds up, and although crimson was staining his bandages, he couldn’t find it in him to go back to bed. 

“If you keep doing that,” Your voice snaps him out of his stupor, and his hand is snatched back to his side in an instant; feet shoulder length apart and tense, “I just might die on you.”

The light above you plays in your eyes, bouncing off the color and reflecting it directly into Keegan’s iris as the skin of your eyelids peel back. You blink up at him, vision coming back into focus as you stretch your legs out under the covers. 

Sending a small smile to his blank face, you chuckle, “What?” You groan, “I was being sarcastic.”

A smirk is all you get, a slight twitching at the side of his lips at the fatigue in your tone.

“How long?” Keegan asks, raising a dark brow. Knowing what he’s asking, you scoff, face bright.

“Only about five minutes. I caught the end of Merricks conversation,” You reply.

“Hm.”

“Don’t give me that look – I’m in the room, what do you want me to do…not listen? Tch,” Your hand presses into the mattress, shoving you up. 

A hand splays over your back immediately to help. 

Goosebumps litter your arms as Keegan’s grip lightly digs into your gown, assisting you where your other arm can’t. Sparing him a glance, you watch with heat on your ears and neck as his attention remains solely fixated on you. Blue breaks open your skin and infects you with its chill. Liking the feel of it, you let it in and embrace it. 

When you’re sitting up, silence ensues, with Keegan’s eyes studying your body as you do the same. His hand remained on your back. 

Does he remember what he said? You wonder, locking on the thick wrappings under the man’s gown with a frown, Or was he too out of it?

“Feelin’ alright, Princess?” Your eyebrows raise as he tilts his head.

“I should be asking you that.”

“We both got shot,” Keegan shoots back, and the black around his eyes creases as he deadpans at you.

“You passed out – I didn’t. Don’t blame me because you decided to take a nap, Big Guy.”

“So, you’re just full of nicknames now, are you?” 

“Hm,” You smirk, voice low and teasing, “Perhaps…Raccoon Eyes.”

Keegan scoffs, turning his head away in exasperation. You were both the same people from hours ago, but something felt different – the air was lighter, bordering on sacred. Looking at each other with hesitant vulnerability, hearts yearning but not quite certain where to begin. So many jagged pieces of glass to buffer out, smooth along the edges, and pray that they became mosaics of brightly colored perfection that glittered in the sunlight. But you could still slice your fingers open, despite the years of practice and knowledge of that sacred art, feel the blood splatter the table and leak into the fine lines of your palm.

But, perhaps, it was time to try. 

“I guess I owe you one,” You admit awkwardly, suddenly avoiding eye contact and feeling sheepish. This was new to you, “You saved me from a sniper but I couldn’t see the one behind you.”

“You owe me twice, then,” When you send him a scalding look, he puffs out a breath to show it was a joke and continues as you roll your eyes and smile softly, “..but, uh,” Keegan clears his throat, “Don’t…worry about it, Kid,” Your eyes snap to his side profile, blinking in shock as his eyes rove the room, watching the cracks in the floors as you gape at him. Why…why did he sound like that? Like the gravel in his words had smoothed over and was suddenly a paved road with moss along the edges; gentle to the touch. And why did your heart skip a beat at it, “Forget about it.” 

“...What?” Your voice is small, genuine confusion whispered out as you watch the muscles in his face move. Keegan’s jaw was clenched, his nose scrunching as he rolled it and fixed his stance. It was adorable the way he was trying not to face you.

His head turns to his gear that Merrick had placed on the large table across the room. You watch him lightly limp to it, mind still trying to think through what was going on. His shredded hand goes to the back pocket of his folded cargo pants, and your ears twitch at a crinkling nose. The Ghost pulls out an empty chocolate wrapper and you feel your heart stop all together when he holds it aloft. He shuffles back over. 

“It was alright, little stale, but not bad,” Those steel blue eyes slide to yours, and your face heats; throat tightens. Since when has your pulse rampaged like that outside of a gun battle? Keegan’s lips quirk into a slow smirk at your expression, “Not bad at all. I’m sorry that I ate it all.”

You have to look away before you pass out, all confidence now gone and dignity stomped on when you realized that you liked when he looked at you with those eyes of his. Your hand clenches over the covers, finding that double meaning with brimming affection.

Oh, you just hated him…but your breath still gets stolen all the same.

“Yeah, well,” Your hand goes to scratch at the back of your neck to ground yourself, “Don’t get used to it, Kee. That bar was worth like fifty bucks if we’d have just sold it.”

You decide his laugh is better than any old chocolate bar, and that you wanted to taste it on your tongue until the very sun died out. Until your bones were bleach white from age.

There was no doubt he remembered what he had told you as you dragged him along, scared and wishing he would stay awake; that was simply judging by the sparkle in his pupil and the way he was facing you now. 

Smirking, you raise a brow and grab the man by the collar of his gown. 

Ah, what the hell. Better to start strong.

When you smash his lips to yours, you decide right then and there when Keegan melts into you, his hand going to grip the back of his head, that maybe being enemies wasn’t so bad at all.

[annabelle--cane]

im listening to mag again and damn do the archival crew HATE jon. listen i get it supposedly your lives would be normal if he hadn't brought you here... but he didn't? (minus og archive crew, jon requesting them and all) if anything he was just kinda there when you made decisions, bro wasn't EVEN THERE when melanie got hired like??? like how r u gonna wish him pain rn, he's ltrly sopping wet and on the verge of dying💀

like another anon I got a month or so ago, this is one of my sleeper agent trigger phrases, so this might be another marina monologue moment.

as I'm also in the middle of a (for my standards) incredibly slow relisten, I've been thinking about this topic, too, but I've been coming at it from a slightly different angle than I normally do. in tim's case, we don't get an actual look at the circumstances under which he transferred to the archives, it is theoretically possible that jon laid it on a bit thick in asking him to come with him to the department and tim wouldn't have even thought of it otherwise, but with melanie we have several scenes of her hiring and onboarding where jon is not present and she continually rebuffs people who tell her she's making a mistake, so the text very clearly sets up that her blaming jon for being trapped there doesn't make sense. and, even with tim having been requested by jon, he still had to make the ultimate decision to switch departments himself, so, yknow, what gives?

most people, I think, and myself in the past, have come at this question from a very jon-centric pov because he's the main character and it's a jon-centric show, but I think putting it down to "they lash out at him because he happens to be there and stops defending himself after a while" misses something, as does "they lash out at him because elias sets everyone up to think they have an adversarial relationship to jon." more than that, I think it's about the rejection of agency.

tma is a show that's very much About agency and choices, so it's important to keep track of where characters suddenly balk and try to offload their choices onto other agents. martin, despite being very proactive and efficient when he sets his mind to it, has a consistent habit of thinking of himself as fundamentally unimportant and unable to affect real change. jon, someone who is usually culpability_acceptor_4000, really tries to convince himself that the web made him pull statements out of strangers. and melanie and tim, on realizing that they've gotten themselves stuck in the archives, have similar reactions of trying to retroactively make those decisions jon's.

they hate being stuck there and they can't bear the idea that it might be their fault, and they don't know how to reconcile the choices they did make with the greater forces outside of their control that shape their lives. tim swings right from seeing jon as fully responsible to seeing everything as the result of cosmically inevitable bad luck, and this hits him so hard that it leads directly to his suicide. post-bullet melanie gets a better handle on it; accepting that she chose to fall further into the slaughter opens her up to accepting that she made other choices, like joining the archives, as well as accepting future choices, like quitting the archives.

and yes, in the moments where tim and melanie are most vulnerable and just starting to realize how deeply screwed they are, jon (at least from their pov) does something to make it worse. when jon tells tim that jane presntiss wasn't his fault, tim says "well you sure made me feel worse afterwards! and then everyone had to pay attention to how you were feeling to get you to stop stalking us!" when melanie goes in for a second assassination attempt on elias, elias makes jon talk her down instead of doing it himself, presumably to try and get the slaughter mark done with. neither of these are the inciting incidents for tim and melanie's situations, but they stand out. and because jon is culpability_acceptor_4000, a man who feels like the weight of the whole world is on his shoulders and is even right some of the time, the accusations stick. tim and melanie don't want anything to be their fault, jon thinks everything is his fault, and it's a bit of a vicious self-fulfilling cycle.

[modelbus]

I’m obsessed with the way u write Tommy, the witty dialogue is so >>>> lately I’ve been fixated on the drunk MCC video so if you’d like to write a oneshot based on that it would be super appreciated! Reader probably takes beky’s spot so they’re on the same team, and the more drunk they get the more affectionate and distracted they get and the chat is just eating it up teehee

I actually had to hunt down the video because I haven’t seen it… for anyone curious the video is called “Minecraft But I’m Drunk”!

Pairing: Cc!Tommyinnit x Gn!Reader

Flirting Fools

“IM JUST KEN, WHEN I SEE LOVE I SEE YOUR BALLS—“

The cider you were drinking—same one that Tommy had stocked up on—ends up on your monitor rather than down your throat. Whose idea was it to do a drunk MCC again? Oh, yeah, Tommy fucking Innit.

“Why can’t you say hello like a normal person?” You sigh, wondering if Tommy even has his headphones on.

“Y’know, I want to watch the woman movie but my girlfriend insists I see it with her and I haven’t had the chance.” Jack says, speaking up.

“Oh, Jack, you have a girlfriend?” Tommy asks.

“Acting like you aren’t dating someone too.” You say pointedly, giving a deadpan look to your camera.

“Because you’re amazing! The El-Oh-Em-El! Love of my life!”

“Never spell an acronym out loud again.” You plead.

“What’s an acronym?”

Tubbo’s laugh in the background seems more like a cry of help.

-

“We’re dropping like Fortnite!” Jack exclaims just as the floor vanishes from under you and everyone is out into elytra mode.

“Shit wait we’re playing Fortnite? We playing Fortnite?” Tommy immediately hops on the joke, and you mentally tune him out.

“I love Fortnite!” Jack agrees eagerly. Twenty seconds later, he dies. “I fucking hate Fortnite!”

“I died too.” You inform him, picking up the can of alcoholic cider to take a drink.

“WAIT!” Tommy screeches. “Cheers! Cheers with me!”

You raise your drink to your camera, assuming Tommy is doing the same in his office. Afterward, Tommy slurps his drink far too close to his mic.

“I’m gonna vomit.” Tubbo declares.

“Don’t back down and give up, that’s some shit Kenergy.”

-

“Guys, I just bought myself a pack of ‘Colon the Caterpillar’ and if we win MCC I’ll open them.” Tommy’s voice announces during the loading between games. Do you know what that means? No. Do you want some? Fuck yes.

“Share. Share? Share?” You ask, taking another sip of your drink.

“Come over babygirl.” Tommy answers you. For a second, there’s a complete pause in the call. “…I’m going to kill myself.”

“What the FUCK?” Jack shouts.

“Tom, Tom— never say that again.” Tubbo pleads, are you’re inclined to agree.

“Maybe just… keep your mouth shut.” You advise Tommy.

-

“Oh, Jesus, it’s harder to stream when the— when.” Tommy says, quite eloquently.

“Ah, yes, I when the when all the time with you.” You agree.

“We are when the when-ers.”

“Can you two shut up?” Jack asks.

-

You grit your teeth, groaning when a player kills you, picking up your drink again. Slowly but surely, you’re getting drunker and drunker. So much for not having a hangover tomorrow.

“We’ve literally gotta get this dub guys or I don’t get my sweets.” Tommy reminds everyone. “Why is talking like fuckin’ on extreme difficulty?”

“Is it?” You ask idly, taking another drink just for fun.

“Worse than when I’m kissin’ you and shit.” He confirms.

“Stop making Tubbo and I the third wheel.” Jack pleads.

You grin, laughing. “Nah.”

-

“Listen to me now! Look me in the eyes!” Tubbo says, his character moving to stand directly in front of Tommy’s. “You’re my best friend okay and we’ll get you through this.”

“Tom, Tommy, Toms, listen to me.” You giggle, moving to stand next to Tubbo. “You are my boyfriend. And I will not get you through this.”

“Okay, fuck, well I gotta listen to you. Sorry Tubbo.”

“Oh.”

-

“I’m gonna get the coins in the middle!” After his declaration, Tommy sprints to the middle platform and starts mining away at the yellow coin block.

“Jesus fuck, At least wait!” You sigh, shooting a random person.

“Wha— how are you getting them?” Jack agains, laughing wildly. “How is that working?”

“Cause I’ve got backup! My backup’s the best!” Tommy responds, turning in circles.

“You know I’ve always got your back.” You answer.

“Cause you’re cool like that. You got the moves like Jagger.”

“That I do, Tom Simons. That I do.”

-

“Y’know what? It makes me quiet.” Tommy gives no context, leaving you on your own to puzzle out that he’s talking about being drunk.

“Huh? We literally got plastered that one time and you wouldn’t shut up.” You disagree.

“Well, yeah, ‘cause it was you.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Means I like talking to you, bitch.”

“And you don’t like talking to me?” Jack asks. “Oh, yeah, I see how it is.”

“I got priorities man!” Tommy defends himself.

“Priorities being…?” You question, giggling.

“You.”

-

“I’ve got to say, I think there’s a huge lack of focus on the team.” Jack says, coughing pointedly.

“I think I’ve got to agree with you Jack.” Tubbo hums.

“Yeah, and it ain’t us Tubbo.”

“The fuck you saying about me and my boyfriend?” You ask, splash potion of harming in your hand. “You wanna fucking repeat that?”

“No no no no— you guys are great! Teen love— TUBBO RUN—“

-

“Tommyinnit meet and greet on the rocks outside the pier in Brighton at 1am?” Tommy asks. “Any muggers don’t go there though.”

“I’ll go with. Mug both of us.” You offer.

“Yeah, we team that shit. Power of love right there.”

“Love lets people get mugged together?” Jack laughs.

“Not all love Jack.” Tommy corrects.

“Just ours.” You agree with Tommy. “Our love is special, Jack.”

“Oh, it’s certainly something.”

-

Sands of Time has you immediately frowning at the screen and taking another drink. It’s such a shit game, it deserves to be drank to.

“I went to the bathroom guys and I was just like oh by the way…”

There’s a second where you, Tubbo, and Jack wait for Tommy to finish his sentence. He doesn’t.

“‘Oh by the way’ what?” Jack finally asks.

“Oh— oh, I just stopped.” Tommy laughs. Cackles, more like.

“Oh by the way I’m coming over to your place after?” You ask him.

“Really? We can watch that new movie you’ve been wanting to see, if you want.” He doesn’t even blink at the subject change.

“Works for me. Might be a bit before I sober enough to not get murdered in the streets though.”

“I’ll just come get you, love.”

“You’re drunker than me.”

“I’ll scare everyone off with my many muscles.”

“Do you even have one?” Tubbo asks. “One muscle?”

“Many manly muscles.” Tommy doubles-down.

“I’ll just walk.” You sigh.

-

“Guys stop calling me ‘daddy Tommy’ I’m clearly a twink.”

“Tom?” You ask.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up, please.”

“Whatever you say!”

-

<Tommyinnit> Tubbo kisses his cousins

“I do not!” Tubbo exclaims, outrage painting his voice.

“I’ve seen Tubbo bare-lipsing his cousins.” Jack argues immediately.

“Have you?” You ask Jack.

“I’d kiss you even if you were my cousin.” Tommy says to you. “That’s how much I love you.”

“You’d what?”

“No, cause it’s my love.”

“Tom, man, I think it’s time for you to be done.” Jack says wisely.

“Well, no, cause what’s wrong with what I said?”

“So many things. So so many things.”

-

When you blink your eyes open the next morning, everything is hazy and painful. A throbbing headache makes you immediately close your eyes against the bright sunlight of morning, only for you to try again a few moments later.

There's a weight thrown across your middle; upon further inspection, it's Tommy's arm. Heavy and warm, and also keeping you trapped next to him.

"Tom." You groan, knowing that you need some water and Aspirin. He probably does too, considering he definitely drank more than you. "Tom, please."

He mumbles something, barely relenting his grip on you. It's just enough so that you can stretch across the bed to grab your phone from the charger. There's a few messages from friends checking up on you and Tommy (including a shit ton from Wilbur that you're just going to... ignore...) but you swipe open social media.

Only to immediately close it when you realize that you and Tommy are trending for what happened during MCC last night. Although it could very well also have been from the photo Tommy posted of you two kissing, to be fair.

"Stop moving." Tommy groans, pressing his face into your shoulder.

"We need Aspirin and water." You tell him. "And we're trending on Twitter."

"No." His hold on you tightens. "Five more minutes."

You know damn well five minutes will be ten, then thirty, then two hours, but you relent either way.

"Five more minutes."

[pseudophan]

it’s so funny to me people trying to have control over other people’s reactions to things, like now on twitter someone was like “shut up about dnp on pj’s video don’t talk about them it’s so disrespectful they have many friends it could be anyone and even if it was them shut up”

and i get it i guess like sure is it ideal? idk. but we can’t control if other people talk about dnp under pj’s video like they’re popular im sorry to pj but that’s the online world for you.

and also, they do this about everything “don’t bring up this specific conspiracy, don’t say this specific thing because it’s weird”

all we can do is not say the things we think we shouldn’t say but trying to control others people’s reactions and posts on social media is so pointless i dont understand it

yeah i think this is a big problem with the internet as a whole, this idea that because you don't like something people are doing you can just.. stop them from doing it. for better or for worse people are gonna do whatever the hell it is they want to do, and within reason you kind of have to just accept that

i do agree that it's a shame when other creators' comment sections are made all about dan and phil, but with this one i kind of don't see the issue? because like, it's not all about dan and phil? there are only a few comments mentioning them, it's really not a huge deal. you can't exactly ban people from ever mentioning dan and phil to their friends

also i will say as much as i agree it's unnecessary to make everything about dan and phil directly @ other creators, i do think it's a bit silly to get upset people are tweeting about pj maybe referring to dan and phil on their phannie accounts. comment sections are one thing but come on now of course phannies are gonna talk about potential mentions of dnp within phannie circles. i feel like making that an issue is such a waste of energy

[homosekularnost]

Is there really going to be a sequel to fuckboy strategy??? ❤️🎉❤️

after months (?) of waiting to answer this im finally accepting the wip is never making it to ao3 BUT. it can go under keep reading i think

fuckboy strategy the sequel

Ratthi was the first human to acknowledge my drone.  "Oh, SecUnit is watching over you again!" 

He was addressing Gurathin, but still finger-gunned said drone, same as he'd done with the drone I had on him when he noticed it that morning. He added, "That's good! That means you made up?"

He phrased it like a question, because it clearly was a question. Among the humans on Preservation desperate to find out more about my brief and uncomfortable experiment with sex (which included all humans on Preservation, unfortunately), Ratthi was by far the worst at hiding his curiosity. Overse, who had been sitting next to Gurathin when Ratthi approached them, seemed to agree.

"Don't be nosy, Ratthi." She gave him a friendly elbow bump, then scooted so that he could join her on the shared bench. She leaned back, too, and followed his line of sight. "But, oh, that really is SecUnit's drone!"

Gurathin just grunted in acknowledgement, and continued not looking its way.

(I had to say Ratthi was the first human to acknowledge the drone, because Gurathin had noticed it hours ago.) 

Gurathin hadn’t acknowledged it (we were still not exactly talking) but he didn't throw a fit either, and since we were only now entering hour eight post me apologizing for stonewalling him after we had a (yikes) sexual encounter, I considered it a victory. He hadn't done anything interesting so far, which wasn't saying much because he rarely did. The most exciting bit of his day had been occurring just as Ratthi appeared, when Gurathin apologized to Overse for how moody he'd been two cycles prior.

(The whole conversation was painful to watch, and not just because said moodiness directly preceded and indirectly led to me showing up at his door and performing the saddest handjob in modern history. (Well. I couldn't verify that it was the saddest one, but I had done some research post-incident, and it had to be down there.) It turned out that it was an anniversary of a really traumatic event from his time in Corporate Rim, and that he hadn't been sleeping well as a result, and while we all agreed that this was no excuse for how he was towards his coworker, it did make the fact I vanished on him and then convinced him he'd made me feel violated a little worse.

And it was already pretty bad, so the situation was dire.)

Ratthi got invited because everyone liked having Ratthi around. I wondered if he'd get sent away, once they realized he couldn't help himself from snooping.

"I can feel you staring," Gurathin was presently saying.

Overse flicked Ratthi on the back of his head, and he averted his eyes comically. "Sorry!" he said at the ceiling. "It's just that — " He waved the free hand around. "I don't get how?"

"I don't think it gets that either," Gurathin said, same time as Overse said, "God, Ratthi, how many lesbians are you friends with again?"

Well. Mortifying. Ratthi floundered. 

"I mean!" Ratthi said. "That's different."

"Different how?" Overse asked.

"I don’t want to answer that." At least they were finding it funny. "You know I don't think about you guys having sex."

"Now that I do not buy." That was Pin-Lee. I was late to notice her approach, and rushed to withdraw my drone a little. (I got her to concede I was allowed to record things in public, as long as I didn't keep any audio, but she still glared at my drones if she saw them.)

"What's happening?" She was now sitting down in-between Gurathin and Overse. "Our IT guy looks unwell."

"Not much," Overse said. "Ratthi is just erasing the existence of stone tops."

"Oh, talking about the thing with SecUnit?" Pin-Lee did not even hesitate. Gurathin put his face in his hands, and Ratthi made a noise of protest. 

Gurathin said, "I don't think it'll appreciate getting assigned a stone top," and gestured towards my cowering drone.

Pin-Lee narrowed her eyes at it. "It can move, then."

Overse piped up, "Also, no offence, but I feel Pin-Lee's assumption has less to do with what she thinks it gets up to — "

" — and more with her thinking I'm a pillow princess?" Gurathin snorted into his hands.

"I'd find a more gender affirming way of saying it," Pin-Lee said, "But, yes."

I was too busy looking up what half of these terms meant to have an emotional reaction.

#

Pin-Lee pinged me later on in the day, presumably once the group had parted ways. She asked if she could drop by, and I was at a comfortable 94% performance reliability, so I said yes.

She knocked before entering, even though she saw the drone outside, which I assumed was her way of letting me set the pace.

"Come in," I called out.

She pushed the doors open, then closed the doors behind her.

"Hey," she said. "Watching anything good?"

I was watching season 872 of something called the L word. "Not sure." It had popped up when I searched the term bases for stone top.

She snorted. "Fair." Then, “I wanted to apologize.”

That got me to raise an eyebrow. I turned my face her way. "For what?" All I could think of was her glaring at my drones, but she loved doing that.

She exhaled. "The rest of us have known each other for a long time," she said. "So we know what each other is comfortable with. That's why we don't hesitate to make fun of each other for personal affairs." She bit her cheek. "And we should have kept more tact when it comes to you. Sex is insanely personal, even when — " She gestured towards me.

"Even when one is not a poor wounded construct?" I supplied.

She blinked. "Even when one is not a refugee from a corporation that denied it autonomy and privacy." She rolled her eyes. "But whatever. We’ll do better in the future."

I bit my lip. "It sounds like Gurathin should be the offended one." This serial made it seem like pillow princess was something of an insult.

"He's not, though." Pin-Lee snorted. "He's just embarrassed everyone from that survey now thinks he's into choking."

My face did a thing almost immediately. Pin-Lee took a second to process it.

"What,” she said. She seemed to be struggling to control her face. "What.”

I didn't even try to control my face.

"No way.” She cracked up. "SecUnit, you didn't."

I pulled my hood over my head, and said nothing.

“For your first time?!” she said, then seemed to remember her promise. “Sorry. I’m respecting your privacy. Just.” She cracked up again. “First time?!”

I was keeping this hood over my head forever. "I know how not to hurt a human."

"I bet you do." She was wiping at her eyes. "I mean, at least physically, huh?"

I kept tugging my hood closed. "Ouch."

She gave it one last snort. "Well." She said. "Um. I’m leaving now.”

I was safer in my hood, so I said nothing.

“Sorry again,” she called. “See you around.”

I waited until I heard the doors close to stop holding my breath. I also did a quick status report, just for the fun of it.

My performance ability was now at 89%. I put this down as another reason to never talk about sex with anyone, and continued playing my episode.

[samijey]

broke my promise to myself and actually watched the jey/gunther match and let me tell you... whoever booked that finish wanted jey to look like an idiot. mega rant under the cut which you should honestly read im not your mama but you should read it

he splashes gunther after getting dominated for 80% of the match and an (honestly underwhelming) spear and we're meant to believe the +2yr champion who's beaten virtually everyone on the roster (including drew who recently beat jey TWICE) was about to be defeated right there?......okay............ but it gets worse

when the referee (for no real good reason) stops the count at 2 after jimmy rings the bell, jey "forgets" about gunther and turns his back to him, allowing gunther to get back up almost IMMEDIATELY (remember we were meant to think he was about to be beaten 5 seconds earlier) yet jey quickly superkicks him BUT THEN decides to dive at jimmy on the outside instead of going directly for another splash (girl help) so ofc when he does go for the splash, gunther gets the knees up, and to add a cherry on top of this shit sunday, pins jey right there after performing no extra offense - doesn't even roll him up, jey just lies there flat on his back and gets pinned (while michael cole screams "GUNTHER ROLLS UP JEY USO" to make me even more mad, apparently, as zero actual rolling takes place in the ring - just a leg hook & weight on the shoulders combo... and not a particularly vicious one either) I just ??????

and of-fucking-course as the TV feed gets cut, cue cody and punk who come out all smiles ready to do the usual fanservice routine for the live crowd and suddenly jey is mostly done selling what just happened and is smiling along with whatever you wanna call it - sending the crowd home happy?? since when did that become mandatory for broadcast shows??? why can't emotionally devastating moments count just as much when it comes to delivering a satisfying ending to the live crowd??? are you telling me they couldnt have had jey walk to the back WHILE SELLING the heartbreak/frustration of what happened and THEN send cody out to do the fanservice thing??? fuck maintaining suspension of disbelief I guess - you can't even argue that "it's fine it was just a treat for the live crowd" because WWE has posted the footage everywhere and promoted it heavily.

imagine if after the camera stopped rolling at last year's rumble, sami had got up, undone kevin's handcuffs and they both hugged and cut a cheerful promo at the crowd - everyone would've blasted wwe for undermining the impact of that finish and not letting the moment breathe.

here's another, even more similar example - remember what happened after summerslam when jimmy attacked jey? he sold the devastation of the moment all the way until he exited the arena, so why is this any different? because it's "just" TV and not a PPV? nah, i'll tell you why: because wwe does not give a shit about this current version of jey's character - he's there to spew the same catchphrase 100x an hour (because it sells merch and pops the crowd let's be honest), display a grand total of two personality traits, and rub his popularity off onto the people wwe actually consider stars

for comparison - you cannot tell me that if it was cody in this position (just lost an important match thanks to the most important person in his life + got attacked by them on top of it) wwe wouldn't have had him look devastated or cut an emotional, tearful promo that would've then been posted and promoted everywhere

"chill, it's not that serious" my apologies for wanting something i love (and KNOW can be so much better with minimal effort) to have a basic level of logic and thought put into it, it's not like wrestling booking is rocket science and we know wwe is NOT incapable of actually delivering good stuff 🤷??? the standards for this show are so damn low and seeing no one else be bothered by it does my fucking head in ouch ouch wheres the aspirin bye

[cnihachu]

whats ur opinion on generation loss niki? was curious because she's probably my favorite of nihachus characters,,extremely well written imo

I LOVE HER SOO MUCH OKAY . tbh i rlly rlly wish in general genloss went more into character deveklopment or was just Longer bc they had SUCH good personalities and god i want to know More..

what makes gl!niki for me is her acting- she is chillingly good at eliciting a reaction, and i think thats the goal both in and out of character. honestly i need to rewatch genloss im rusty but the way she saves the majority of her distress for when she's (mostly) off camera speaks to how she knows she needs to be what she precieves as likable, and playing up what she thinks are her 'best' qualities like kindness, and less explicitly, her ability to hide her emotions and please an audience. she needs to be good content for the audience if she has any hope of survival. she thinks no one will want her if she isn't nice and easy to digest. she doesnt percieve worth in herself if she isn't what shes assigned to be, a nice and kind person. even under extreme distress. even when she could die.

i know some people percieve her crying/fear to be fake or ingeniune but i really prefer the take (semi confirmed from cc!Niki) that she's switching it off or repressing her real emotions in a desperate attempt of survival.. it would be really suprising for someone to not be so incredibly scared in that situation. i remember when niki did a stream discussing genloss she said she pulled a lot from the reactions of how people would comment on her crying in stressful events like mcc and that it was directly kind of taken from those experiences of being a public figure (and by extention a woman in these spaces bc lets be real thats why she gets that backlash). i think thats so incredibly powerful to use those experiences to build a character it makes me sick cc!niki ilysm. gl!niki ilysm.

a direct quote from cc!niki about gl!niki: "i am literally locked up on a spinning wheel of death, and of course i will cry, but i will not show it- i will not be able to show it to the audience, i cannot show them that i'm scared. i cannot show them that i'm tired and- and sad, and fearing for my life, because that is what is expected of me. because the outcome that happens if i show how i feel is worse than the fate of death that i am fearing right now."

so in a way (to my small rabbit brain) gl!niki is an incredibly chilling take on the way fandom and the public treat women in content creation space as machines who can only express emotions that are pretty or convient for the audience.. like. even in an incredibly terrifying situation gl!niki steels herself to be more 'calm' and plays into what people percieve as the Single facet of her personaliy, being Nice.. Like, 'look at me! i'm completely rational, not overly emotional! i'm so useful and likable! i'm good content!" and ITS INSANE!!!!!!! ITS INSANE!!! HOW DO U COPE WITH THIS. I FEEL ILL. i nihachu defender lover brain so like . this is all just my own rambling idek . i love her to pieces </3

[lemmetreatya]

Reiner x fem reader smut - PURE/HONEY

I love this man so much it’s so STUPIIIIIIDDDD!! HELPF MEEEE!! IM CORRUPTED

contains: strong language, oral sex, smut, car sex, pwp

“Get in the back.”

As soon as he had unlocked the car, you heard Reiner grumble those words to you over the vehicle.

Opening the door to the back seats on the right, you clambered in. You didn’t even bother questioning what he was requesting of you — you already knew to start sliding your panties pass the fat of your ass.

The blonde male seemed to already beat you into the car. He was on all fours on top of the left back seats, already reaching his hand out for you.

As your panties pooled around one of your ankles, the both of you leaned in for a quick heated kiss.

When you pulled away, you could already tell the lust in the man’s eyes were dire.

God, you’d never get tired of the sweet slickness of his mouth.

“Rei, promise you won’t long this out. The others’ll get suspicious that we haven’t pulled out from the drive yet.” You whispered against his lips.

Go get a few beers.

That’s all your friends had requested of you both.

The small get together was under way over at Eren, Zeke and Armin’s place. But Connie, having forgotten to bring the drinks (He had ONE job!!), meant that someone needed to therefore go out and get some, considering Connie’s license was temporarily suspended (don’t ask).

Reiner had stupidly offered for the both of you to go get them, which was fine; He had driven you both here, alongside a carpooling Bertholdt, so he was more than capable of being the designated Beer Guy.

But Reiner didn’t accept the request out of good heart and thoughtful sacrifice for his Beerless peers, No. Reiner had accepted the inquiry based on the fact that he’d steal a few minutes away from the group with you because he was just too fucking needy.

“Yeah, I’ll be quick, whatever. Just… Sit back.” He grumbled against your lips, already signalling for you to prop your back up against the passenger door on your side.

Following his command, you sat with your head leaning against the window. Your legs had spread wide open; one hooked over the backseats and one tangled on the car floor.

With his arms hugging around your thighs from beneath, Reiner rode your dress up your body before lowering his face between your legs and giving your glistening core an open mouthed kiss.

Instantly your lips parted and a sweet sound of relief dribbled out from it.

“Okay, yeah. I’ve missed this, fuck.”

What made this whole thing even worse was that neither of you were publicly dating. You’d been sneaking around with each other for a few months but hadn’t told your friends what was going on.

Not that you wanted to; the situationship was purely pleasure based and none of their business.

Like clockwork, your hand found its way to the perch of hair at the top of the man’s head. You believe with the amount of force and the many times you’ve done this, it would definitely result in premature balding.

Oh well! Not your guy, not your problem!

Reiner wasted no time in directly sucking at your clit, his tongue occasionally lapping up the slick that built around it.

This man was definitely on a mission.

With the hunger he devoured you with, you couldn’t help but have your hips gyrate in succession to Reiner’s actions. However, it wasn’t a problem for him — the man only anchored you down in place, his grip on your thighs growing tighter as he continued to feed on your oozing meat.

The coarse love of sex built within the pits of your stomach. You had the want in you to just spill yourself all over this man, bathe him in your fluids and mess his face; wet his beard with the succulent juice of your womanhood.

“Shiiiiit, how long you been waiting to do this to me, Reiner? How long you wanted to suck my fucking pussy, huh?” You drooled.

The moist stirring of your dewy cunt against his lewd mouth filled the sound in between your ask and his reply.

“Since I picked you up ‘n’ saw you in that dress.”

With the way his eyes languidly rolled up to meet yours, you’re sure you’d be able to convince anyone that there was no longer a need to buy the beers; He was already drunk.

“Wannad’ to eat you since then.” He mumbled against your slick.

A pulse fizzed itself straight to your core. Your inner walls desperately clenched at the mere thought that Reiner would have devoured you upon first laying his eyes on you, however denied doing so due to the presence of his best friend in the car ride and then being in a house full of your Other friends.

The thought of Reiner’s self control being the restraint of not even an hour long drove you crazy.

No way was he that addicted to you.

Momentarily, the blonde detached his mouth from your pussy, getting as much comfortable he could in such a tight position before lapping a humid strip from the bottom to the top of your cunt.

After he did that, he sighed a loud sigh of greed. Too much goodness all in a short amount of time. Doused in your pussy — unlimited, unsolicited.

You hummed sweetly down at the man, your bottom lip plump between your teeth.

“You wanted me that bad, huh? Lied to our friends. Said you’d buy beer. But you just wanted my pussy.”

You slurred your vulgar words towards the car ceiling, head thrashed backwards against the window glass. Your breath was laboured, voice higher than usual and your hips were bucking desperately into the man’s mouth.

Reiner knew exactly what those signs meant and so in response, followed through with the usual procedure.

The blonde brought one of his hands from your thighs to the entrance of your womanhood. While his tongue continued to lap at you, his index and middle finger slid between it so that it could part your lips wider and allow himself cleaner access to your clit.

Fuck! That felt good!

It wasn’t at the front of your mind the damage it was creating but you could feel your slick leak out from the bottom of your cunt, most likely creating a wet stain on the fabric of the car seat — just another way to print yourself forever into this man’s brain.

Reiner continued to suckle at your clit, almost as if he wanted to draw honey from it directly. However, he also knew that sucking your bud this late within the session would cause you to whine and roll your body in edging desire which is exactly what he wanted.

You were so close to that freeing feeling of an orgasm, your build up having stored enough points and ready to unleash the ecstatic wave, the words were on the tip of your tongue!

“Reiner, Reiner, Reiner — I’m close. Fuuuuck, I’m g’nna come, I’m g’nna come.”

The man hummed.

Whether in reply to you or enjoyment of your unraveling, you’re unsure but the vibration definitely sent you over the precipice and into that sparkling sensation of a climax.

You moaned aloud into the air, your body stilling whilst the euphoric pleasure of sex washed over you.

Reiner continued to lap you through your orgasm, the feeling of your cunt contracting and releasing in sporadic spurts on his tongue never getting old. He thinks it’s a genuine issue with how obsessed he is with you. How you willingly allow him to undo you and grant him access to witness such a celestial experience again and again.

After he hears the heavy signs of your breathing, Reiner lays your pussy one last wet kiss before raising his head to watch you.

Spent and eyes fluttered shut, your mouth stayed agape as you came down from your high.

“You okay?” Reiner grumbled, voice deep and coarse.

You weakly nodded, your veins still buzzing with endorphin albeit pumping in lower quantities than they were a few seconds ago.

“Yeah, I’m good.” You quickly dabbed at your face, neck and forehead as they were clammy with sweat. “Fuck, Reiner. You ain’t eat shit like that before.”

The man glowered in the compliment, that familiar shy but hubristic lopsided smirk swimming it’s way onto his slick and moistened lips. He however didn’t reply and only lowered his head back down, resting it against your thigh.

Automatically, your hand found itself back within the same spot on his head. Running your fingers through the bristle strands, you watched down at the man.

Never would you have thought that the actions and decisions you’ve made in your life would mean you’d end up like this: Relishing within post-orgasm glow as your long-time friend had his head laid up on your thigh, in the back of his car on the drive way of your Other long-time friend’s house.

However, you had to momentarily catch yourself from thinking but isn’t that a good thing? Because it wasn’t supposed to be a good thing or a meaningful thing or anything for that matter. It was just a thing. No feelings, no strings and definitely no How Did We Get Here? Questions.

It was simply a mutual understanding between two friends.

Removing your hand from Reiner’s hair, you started to sit yourself up properly against the car door. You hadn’t realised that your posture had slouched.

“Want me to do you now?”

Reiner started to get up concerning you had moved your position. He sat up onto his heels as a look of conflict flickered over his face.

He knew well what you were referring to because that’s how most sessions went. The beautiful art of Equivalent Exchange. But Reiner doesn’t know if he wants to abide by that this time. For once, he feels that he’s satisfied with just basking in you alone.

Shaking his head, Reiner declined.

“Nah. Just wanted to taste you. I don’t need anything in return.”

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel your heart slightly flutter at the proclamation. It’s not like you were falling for this man (“No! Never!” You said into the side-eying void) but you were moved at the prospect that he was okay with simply bathing in you and nothing else.

Whether that’d be the case for the rest of the night, you weren’t sure, but that was for Future You to deal with.

“Naw, Reiner. How sweet of you.” You mocked, the playful tone in your voice a quick bounce back to the natural dynamic the two of you had: Push and Pull.

“Oi!” Any crack of vulnerability that was visible before was now wiped from the man’s face as his expression screwed into one of faux disgust.

You watched as Reiner reached forward between the gap of the passenger and driver’s seat to retrieve a pack of wipes that he kept within the glove compartment.

When he pulled back into your space, he othered you a wipe before pulling one for himself and giving a verbal answer.

“Don’t get any ideas, I’m not being sweet at all. If anything, I’m being wildly selfish and I’m fine with that.” He bemused.

“How so?”

“Well, now it means you owe me a Bonk.”

“A Bonk?” You questioned. What was he on about?

Reiner began to wipe at his mouth with the wipes, shacking at the tuff of his beard before explaining.

“Yeah, a Bonk. You still owe me, I’m just not cashing it in now. I’m saving it for another time. When I want to cash in that favour? I use my Bonk.” He said matter-of-factly.

Pulling the wipe away from between your thighs, you gave Reiner a perplexed look.

“The fuck? How is that fair? Why do you get to save a Bonk for later! Why can’t I save a Bonk?!”

“I told you, I’m being selfish.” With a slyer smirk than before, Reiner shrugged before handing you another wipe. “You just gotta play the game, sweetheart.”

With a scoff and no form of comeback, you turned your head away from the man.

All the more ways to hide the smile that was chiding at your lips.

“Boy, I— Reiner, just go buy them beers!”

(“Yo, why does it smell like sex in here?”

Even whilst sloshed on five bottles of Peroni and two Budweisers, Bertholdt’s sense of smell was still working over time.

Reiner, only now getting into the driver’s seat pulled a regretful face at his friend’s observation. He was unsure how Bertholdt was still able to smell his previous Sins concerning the two of you had gone to ‘Get the Beers’ hours ago.

“It’s probably just your head playing tricks on you, Bert. Just lie down for now, okay?” You said, as you piled into the passenger’s seat.

As soon as you sat down, you gave Reiner a concerned look. Did Bertholdt catch on? Reiner could only shrug and quickly shake his head as he mouthed that he didn’t know.

Starting up the car, the blonde took a look at his rearview mirror. He was momentarily relieved that Bertholdt was complying to your instruction to lie down. If he was asleep, it was less questions for the both of you.

That was until there was a weird groan from the back.

“Why is this seat wet?” Bertholdt muttered.

The air at the front of the car seemed to run cold. Reiner stilled with his hands on the wheel. You paused just before you could click your seatbelt in.

With a few echoing sniffs, Bertholdt rapidly sat up.

“Ew, guys what the fuck?!”)

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

absolutely unrelated to the dreadful little polycule BUT. hey mark was there at deadwood right. like in canon. what do u think post-muse ashe and mark even Look like. i feel like. there's no way they could be normal after that. not that they can in canon but even Less after what ashe knows mark's seen him do. also GOD how does. tidalwave mark coming over to deadwood mark dragging tide with him happen..... one second im still thinking about the dreadful little polycule u know ill always talk ur ear off Abt them!!!

this ask has been cooking in my inbox for WEEKS because thinking about post-muse mark and ashe makes me so fucking sick dude. god. okay. fucking huge ramble about them under the cut

not going to answer the tidalwave thing yet because we NEED 2 discuss what happens to tide instead of depowering him bc that would fucking kill him and we CANNOT kill our dad. i know we mentioned him taking an armsmaster style retirement/thinly veiled house arrest but. thats a conversation for later hehe

ANYWAY. FUCK . POST-MUSE ASHE MY POOR LITTLE BOY. god. this is all going to be hypotheticals and questions honestly. but like. god. thinking abt the scene like. IMMEDIATELY after the trickster lets him go. the trickster lets go of him and ashe just fucking slumps to the ground like a (pun very much intended) puppet with his strings cut. hes not unconscious, hes awake, but the last time he was free and aware he had to watch himself rip william in half! lol! i think that all hits him at once and he just like. falls to his fucking knees!!! and like. mark pov. thats his son his son is free hes had to watch all of this in shock and horror but now ashe is free after so fucking long and all he wants to do is rush forward and hug him (pick him up, bundle him in his arms like he did when ashe first triggered, carry him in the car as they speed out of the quarantine zone hoping nobody is following them-) and i think he gets as far as. falling to his knees next to ashe, but as soon as his hand makes contact i think ashe flinches so hard its almost like the touch hurt him. hes just. staring at his dad with these huge eyes and shallow breaths and hes shaking and crying and its a fucking MESS and mark doesnt know what to DO and the wards are standing in a loose semicircle behind him and ashe does NOT like all of these eyes on him. he knows these are people who love him but he doesnt know ... what the fuck theyre going to think of him. after. all of that.

i think it would be fun (/evil) if for..... a little while after he's free ashe is just CONSTANTLY waiting for the other shoe to drop. he knows trickster has mal now, he believes that was real, and mal can make illusions. so . whats to say this isnt just all. fake. one of these days hes going to wake up covered in blood and gore and new piercings stinging and aching and . ashe winters will just be the empty aftermath of muse again. i cannot IMAGINE a world in which mark would let him out of his sight again... maybe not in the same completely suffocating way he did when ashe was a kid but like. he definitely insists on ashe living with him again. just. theres a sort of nervous hesitance that wasnt there before. mark is so much more Present now that he doesnt have to work for overlord anymore. he's at home. he makes breakfast and dinner and his footsteps are still loud and heavy but theyre cautious and the way he knocks on ashes door is a lot more gentle than it used to be . i just think theyre both like... scared of each other. ashe scared to relax because he thinks that everything could be fake and he doesnt know what anyone really thinks of him anymore (he is so full of shame and guilt over what he did as muse- i dont think anyone would directly Tell Him but i think . he would probably look up the news, just to *know*). and mark is scared because he doesnt know what to do. he doesnt want to make anything worse. he lets the wards and tide visit whenever they want (because he trusts them) because familiar faces and voices might help ashe feel normal again, but hes still. just. so full of paranoia that something else could go wrong.. and all he wants to do is just. put ashe in a vault or something that could keep him safe from anything that could ever hurt him again. but also he knows thats exactly what the trickster was doing to him (and what mark did to him his entire childhood) so he doesnt.

this is . entirely self indulgent and maybe ooc a little bit but i really really REALLY want the first step of them like... healing. is for mark to be doing something maybe in the kitchen or the living room and ashe slowly trudges into the room feet dragging, hair tangled and hanging in his face OBVIOUSLY not touched at all, nervous energy twitchy at everything like he has been for weeks, but instead of sitting himself in the corner or with his back against a wall he just... comes up next to mark and bumps his forehead into his back/arm/whatever. and he doesnt say anything and mark freezes up bc he doesnt want to make any sudden moves and scare him but then after like. a couple long seconds of stillness and silence ashe hugs him. mark asks (voice really quiet) if hes okay, and ashes shakes his head (which is more just like. sideways rocking his forehead without breaking contact) and mark asks if he can hug him back (nod this time) and they just kind of. sink to the floor and theyre crying and hugging and they dont talk about it later but i think thats when it clicks in ashes brain like. huh okay maybe this is real.

[cupcraft]

I just think it needs to be said that adults have to regulate themselves in online spaces in a way that is responsible for minors in fandom spaces. This will be long im sorry.

And im not specifically talking about adults with lists of DNI minors and block anyone at or under a certain age as well as make it clear their blog may not be safe for minors (ie spaces with a lot of nsfw content). Though curating an experience is a big part of being responsible of course. This post though is mostly delving into adults' behavior and how you need to be aware of your behavior.

For example, if you're an adult who purposefully curates a blog dedicated to fandom discourse, harming other people in the fandom, vagueing, and just having general toxicity about people ESPECIALLY when the targets of said harassment and toxicity are often the youngest in the fandom this is something you really need to reevaluate yourself about for a million reasons but including how this harms and serves as a poor example to younger people what a fandom space is meant to be. Like when I see minors involved in these types of toxicity, not to say they shouldn't be informed or held accountable or the ppl harmed should forgive them, but as an adult I mostly feel sad. I feel sad because I hope they're going to be okay when they're my age and look back on themselves. I hope they're safe esp when the adults around them act like this kind of behavior is normal and okay even though they've long graduated high school (even though ot wasn't okay then either for the record). Like does it not bother you that you're an adult who feels superior sending hate campaigns and ask box harassment and cyberbullying to minors on the internet because you're insecurities are that large and you've no ability to regulate them healthily? Does it not bother you that you teach young ppl in the fandom to do similarly by your actions, and affect their experience? Does the harm not bother you?

Because it should bother you. When you grow up especially in online fandom spaces you do need to be more aware of not only your words in general, but how many people may look up to you and use you as example and that you have a responsibility to be healthy online for the sake of yourself, others, and esp the youngest of the fandom.

Because it hurts to think ppl can grow up in fandom to think "oh sending kys and gore and dead animals over [insert discourse] plus potentially bigotry is normal because everyone around me does it and I want to fit in and I also fear speaking up against the adults who do this because you know the harassment".

And you might say "well cup im just gonna block all minors the end I get to harass people forever hahaha haha!" And well okay, but for another post (plus ones I've made before) there's still a million reasons this is fucked up you see but I'm just focusing on one aspect rn in this post.

And then there's the adults in fandom who all of a sudden hit my age and all they do is belittle kids and the way they act and there is all of a sudden a Certain Maturity that needs to be upheld for Everyone but Especially Adults.

So on the first point this includes adults who are like "I hate kids!!!! They are so [insert anything negative]" and it includes any comment to meta/writing/art/etc that is like not allowing a younger person in fandom to grow. Like the way I talked as 11 years on the internet was incomprehensible and frankly would've been subject to "omg kids are so cringe ew!" For sure these days, ig I was lucky my online friends were also 11 at the time. Looking at my old fandom Meta posts when I was 15, like I could imagine the way I see adults talking about takes like "oh shit I was worse!" Which is just a bag full of insecurity for me, but I also can't imagine being young in fandom and directly experiencing such critiques all the time. Like does it not bother you, once again? That you don't want to see kids in fandom grow into their creativity and co-exist safely in fandom as they do in public and experience overall and public joy? Why do you hate I mean hateee kids as an adult and why does their joy spark hate and misery in you (you might need therapy or to work that out srsly). And do the effects of your actions not bother you? What do you think you're doing other than silencing the creativity and joy in people and invoking ways to people please or for minors to Act Mature (in reality acting the way these adults want to avoid harassment ofc!) Instead of of course just experiencing joy and fun and community as they would normally.

And that brings me to my last pt of the effects of you hit [adult age] and must Act Mature and not Care About Cringe Fandoms or Watch Cartoons and do anything that would indicate you god forbid Don't Have a Real Job. This is the reality for growing up in fandom its finite once you're 19 no more Cringe of course /s! Because I've been subject to this take before as a criticism, and I've seen essays about how adults who watch Bluey are destroying the world forever, and I can take it because I go to therapy and I'm secure in my own maturity where it matters and joy where it matters. But imagine how younger people in the fandom feel. Like you're basically telling kids "btw once you're at Adult Age you must stop having fun forever and you must have a Real Job (or Education) and stop enjoying Immature things like fandom (even though I am in fandom btw im not a hypocrite saying this) or you're a freak immature adult who will never grow up". Like wow.

Like the conservative and near unnuanced take of to be Mature you need a real job (whatever that means) and to only watch adult shows in a normal manner (again whatever that means) aside, like you're really telling kids to grow up and be insecure. I'm serious! Like of course as you grow up it's important to mature no duh, but with real maturity means realizing there are times to be serious and there are times to enjoy things. Maturity doesn't mean I can never watch bluey god forbid else I have a not real job or become media illiterate as a consequence (esp when actually marketing wise a lot of kids shows are meant to also be entertaining for adults watching with their kids... and lo and behold your media literacy doesn't go away magically the moment the show starts). Like you really want younger ppl in fandom to be miserable and grow up miserable and create a cycle of miserable lest they become Cringe Adults that watch a harmless cartoon and enjoy it.

I'm never good at ending rants like this but conclusion. Get a grip on yourself and insecurities and be really careful how you foster fandom community for yourself but also to those that grow up in these spaces too.

As always add on/send asks/correct me/add nuance/etc. ❤️

[notmyprey]

Hi! Just thought I'd make a post going over a few things:

First things first! This is very much a (SFW) vore (for lack of remembering what the other descriptor is) account. If ya dont like- dont follow, lol.

I am a strictly SFW blog, meaning I dont, won't, and haven't posted anything NSFW. I sometimes post digestion, but it's ALWAYS with reformation or NON FATAL.

I normally draw g/t, but I will draw the occasional same/similar/half/quarter vore drawing.

I love asks, so long as they are SFW.

If you want to ask my OC's questions, go to my other blog here, which is just for that!

I only have a few DNI's:

Main DNI:

Pedos (of any name), zoophiles, harassment/callout blogs, homo/transphobic, racist (this includes towards asians and Middle easterns too, I aint tolerating any of that hateful shit)

For personal reasons, please either DNI or do not talk to me about:

Drugs (excluding medical ones), s3xual stuff (s3x repulsed ace here), and pr3gnancy (this is borderline phobia for me, ok? Maybe even worse than that)

If you have uncontrolled temperamental issues, please keep your distance or try not to become too close of friends with me (I have trauma related to this, and I am still recovering).

More info under cut:

These are the fandoms I know! Please try not to spam my ask box with fandoms that I dont know! An ask here and there abt one I dont know is ok, but not constantly please!

My Sona's:

This is my voresona!

This is my persona! (Who can also be used in vore lol)

Do I Role Play?

Short answer: no

Long answer: kind of? I do often use RP like language (such as the use of ** and refering to myself as my online persona, who is still technically me but in a universe where vore exists). But I dont like to directly RP with people in dm or anything else for the most part. There are few exceptions, but those who know, know.

I never thought I would have to add this, but please dont drag me into any drama or personal situations that don't involve me. I made this blog for me to have a place away from real life, not to have to stress over.

Repeating this again: One boundary I would like to put up is to try and keep drug mentions to as minimal as possible (outside of obv medications and stuff). I dont hate anyone who does do drugs, but it does make me very uncomfortable. I wish I could explain why, but unfortunately, I can not since I myself dont even know why.

NSFW and KINK blogs PLEASE READ:

NSFW:

I dont mind nsfw blogs following me or liking my posts, but please dont interact outside of that. Sometimes, I may block nsfw accounts out of the blue, but its normally because they either dont censor things or I see them too much on my tags that im following.

KINK:

I dont mind if kink blogs follow me or like my posts. You can reblog my posts. Just make sure that if you end up rebloging my posts, dont add tags that are related to a kink. I may block kink accounts out of the blue, but its normally because I see them too much on my tags that im following, and its something Im uncomfortable with seeing that often.

For BOTH NSWF and KINK blogs!! If you are an irl edit blog (aka you take real pictures and edit them), if I dont see you, you're fine. But as soon as I see any of that anywhere, whether it's going through who liked/rebloged my post or ending up on my fyp, I will block no hesitation. Irl photo edits make me extremely uncomfortable, and this is one of the few big boundaries I have and will not hesitate to enforce.

Other than that- dont be an asshole and were chill.

Master Lists:

Writing Master List

Prompts Master List

Rants Master List

Characters Master List

On going ask/rb games:

'Reblog or send an ask, and I'll tell ya what you/a character of your choice would taste like' post

Ask game! (Aka send me emojis to answer questions)

[eeblouissant]

I'm so so sorry I didn't think to TW. For what it's worth now, TW for discussion of sexual assault in this message. I have a lot of thoughts to your 100% correct and thoughtful reply, thank you so much for taking the time to write it all out, and I did think that was a subtext to your fic in case you were wondering if it came through (your take on Dorothy is heartbreaking but cathartic ans very needed), but before I get them in order (I don't want to spam you with nonsense rants.... even though I sort of am) I have to say its worse than what you remember unfortunately. On one occasion Dorothy says he slipped her something in her drink. People try to argue its only a small dick gag and nothing more but in the same bit she says that "when [she] came to, [stanley] was carving a notch". I can't remember the ep but I do remember it immediately lingers on a reaction shot of Rose who looks upset. And I actually think you can slot each story together into one - he guilted her over the war, got her drunk, put something in her drunk to be (evil), then raped her. Because Dorothy can't even remember the entire encounter (she definitely doesnt remember the assault, thats consistent in every telling), the version she internalised is that she must have agreed and been a sloppy drunk. Its awful. (She knows, in the back if her mind, the truth. But that's a pain she buries deep. I'm not even sure she'd react well when Blanche or Rose first calls it for what it is, because its tangled up in so many other hurts (like her relationship with her mother)).

bit of a heavy subject, so mind the warnings, but I love that we’ve really (finally) unpacked the subject of what really happened between stan & Dorothy that night, and your layout of events, to me, is so so canon - the fact that Dorothy can’t lay out the story in order is even more proof to me that he did in fact slip her something, and that it was not just a gag. or something Dorothy imagined to fill in the gap in events.

(this got long so, more under the cut)

I would argue that even Bea - separate from Dorothy - looked quite uncomfortable in that scene. The way she says it and the immediately recoils, her eyes are glued to the table in such an im clearly uncomfortable way. As soon as she says it (and, most other times Dorothy mentions that night with Stan, but especially & specifically the time she tells Rose & Blanche that she had “come to” and that “(he had) slipped her something”), there’s an almost out of character & clearly uncomfortable air in the room. And it takes a lot for them to shake sometimes. Seeing rose so visibly upset, even if it was just for a split second, was so heartbreaking. I can only imagine that from a professional standpoint (and as someone with as much knowledge in psychology as she has) she would want to approach & start helping Dorothy unpack in so desperately. But, like you mentioned, I don’t think it will ever truly be unpacked. I think it’s a mix of The Times, age, & how far away from it she thinks she is.

I genuinely think that if Blanche or Rose ever confronted it directly, and really poked at it (especially professionally??? I personally hc that Dorothy has a thing against seeking professional help for herself, especially regarding her mental health, purely because of past experiences. But that’s another ramble), that she would back away and isolate completely. That pain is something that will be healed unspoken. It will never be talked about, but through actions & receiving the love she can’t quite accept for herself yet (something that will just have to be given to her, forced but never mentioned or given in any way that could make her think she’s being healed?). One day she will wake up and know, and it will continue to be unspoken. Rose, Blanche and Sophia will know too. But it will never be talked about, and Stanley will never be brought up again unless by her or her children.

I think her & stan would need to have one long, final conversation. No contact afterwards, unless their kids specifically request it.

As for her relationship with Sophia … this may turn into a second ramble because it’s something I think about so often - I think there might have been an unspoken (but also, very much not unspoken?) bitterness between them up until her stroke. Dorothy’s not knowing exactly what happened that night is laced with denial, and I think that a lotttt of that denial was built up by her parents reaction. She was obviously devastated, feeling absolutely violated, a child - and now on top of all of this forced into a marriage with the man that created all of that hurt in the first place? By the two people she, from birth, had no choice but to place all her trust in? She definitely gaslit herself into thinking she had just been a sloppy drunk and that this was her fault too. We know this is absolutely not true, but it would explain her current state & relationship with Sophia imo.

We know that it was moreso her father that pushed it, and that he also was equally not happy with Stanley (threatening him & such, god that mention was therapeutic), but we also know that they were both extremely hard on her. And that, even if it’s playful, Sophia still hides (well, not really tbh) a hint of resentment towards Dorothy’s situation because of the stain it supposedly left on her reputation as a mother. (I just?? Like. with the exception of Gloria, I suppose, she seems to talk a lot about how little faith she has/had in her children. With Phil’s cross dressing ((hint at being queer/trans)) and Dorothy’s teen pregnancy - she seems to bring one up whenever the other is mentioned. As if they’re on the same level of shameful in her mind.)

I think that Dorothy really clung to Kate during the rough period with Sophia; she definitely projected the love she was missing onto her. Smothering, love bombing, whatever you’d like to call it. Some have mixed feelings & even resentment towards children conceived in the way that Kate was, but I absolutely don’t think this was ever Dorothy. (I also… don’t think Dorothy will ever tell Kate about what happened. Eventually she reaches an age old enough to do the math i think. And, literally - because she will realize their age gap & that it doesn’t quite feel right. She comes to her & they sit with it, but that’s as far as it will ever go. Kate creates a sort of closure in her head. Maybe she doesn’t want to know). I think her children were what got her through the hardest parts. but again, that’s another ramble — Sophia & Dorothy drifted until the stroke. Her stroke was a wake up call for the both of them. Maybe her sending Sophia to shady pines had some kind of hidden meaning for her personally? I don’t know, this is all just headcanon 🤸‍♀️

[princesseevee06]

TELL US ABOUT THE ROSE & VIOLET ROUTES!!! (if you want)

fundamentally they are just different flavors of mlm on wlw violence

ok in all seriousness though i have no idea where to even START because there is SO MUCH!!!! i cannot possibly cover it all in one post. so i will just give a basic rundown under the cut.

as i briefly addressed in some of my earlier posts, the rose/violet routes are the equivalent of the emotion and logic routes for ytr, w/ the difference being that the choice in the 2nd main game vote is between shin and sou instead of shin and kanna. i wanted to take a different approach tonally, since unlike kanna who is a total sweetheart, these two are Very Bitter and Vengeful (in other words ryoko is soooooo screwed no matter what she does LMAO). i tried my best to balance out both routes to make em have more of a bittersweet feeling

shin’s actions are still pretty much the same as they are canonly at the end of the 2nd main game. if ryoko votes for him then he will set up a Nice Good sara ai for her :) and if ryoko votes for sou then instead he will set up a Fake Bad sara ai :((( this difference ends up massively affecting ryoko’s psyche in each route so i will get into it

rose route sara ai scene: so yeah the express intent of the ai that shin sets up here is to torment ryoko. and like i said in my last post ryoko literally just punches the shit out of the monitor and breaks it. like when she realizes what’s happening she just says “no❤️” but she is of course still INCREDIBLY shaken up by it. she already feels so guilty over sara’s death, and she’s having to cope with the weight of everything else as well— she doesn’t know how much longer she can keep it together. my idea is that kugie would find ryoko crying in the room of rubble, and they’d have a very touching scene where kugie reassures ryoko she doesn’t have to handle everything by herself. that everyone is in this together and so kugie will always be there for her, the same way ryoko was for her :) it’s very sweet and i love them dhshhdh#hshx

so after ryoko gets back on her feet, she’s able to cope a bit better but throughout the events of chapter 3 she is still very much in a frail state. like, extreme emotional turmoil. yet at the same time she’s burdening herself with less of the load and learning to rely on her friends

violet route sara ai scene: in the violet route ryoko does get her touching goodbye with sara!!! yay!!! sara inspires ryoko to keep moving forward and not give in. she tells ryoko how much she meant to her as a best friend, and for a moment they just get to be sappy and sweet :,) so as ryoko leaves, she’s certain she can be confident now and she’ll be able to help everyone and oh god why is sou here

yeah if you assumed sou would also try to do something terrible here, you were right. although instead of taking a psychological approach like shin, he decides to go directly for ryoko’s jugular ^_^ i mean that so literally btw. when sou goes into the room of rubble and sees ryoko standing over shin’s corpse and yet still looking so hopeful something in him just Snaps. and he starts trying to choke her to death. awkward. he does not go through with killing her though. bc he realizes he has a “much better plan” (i will get to this in a little bit) anyways im sorry for sou beinngterrible i promise he gets better (he gets much worse but i promise hes still a sympathetic character in this au i promise i pr)

violet route ryoko is veeeeery interesting to me because while she’s able to keep it together better, and not so distraught over sara’s death anymore, in a way because she loves sara so much, she feels obligated to “live up to her name” after she’s gone, trying to stay strong and take everyone’s burdens unto herself not recognizing how unhealthy it is. but through this behavior she’s pushing herself away from others more, and as a result of that anzu later makes some very bad choices (murder) (it’s ironic because sara would certainly Not want ryoko to burden herself) (but ryoko also wants to be someone who sara could be proud of) (not realizing sara loves her just the way she is) (augh. can you tell im normal about them)

OK ENOUGH RYOKO now let’s get to the awful awful green(teal?) haired men and their terrible decisions. starting with shin

shin acts pretty similar to how he does in the logic route here. very much “i have no allies >:( i’m only working with you out of necessity” behavior. although while he is initially hellbent on vengeance against ryoko and the others, he sort of just ends up…faltering. i don’t see him harboring as much antagonism against ryoko as he does against sara, partially because she doesn’t have the crazy win percentages sara does and also partially because she has more of a blunt bundle-of-sunshine personality, and really couldn’t keep a secret to save her life, making her seem less suspicious to him overall. so i definitely see shin being “softer” here, still being clear about his resentment but less in a “i’m going to kill you one day” way and more in a “i want nothing to do with you after this” way

sou on the other hand. jesus christ he is on his LAST STRAW. ok idk if you’ve seen that one chapter 3 cut content scene anon but i decided to take inspiration from that for sou’s actions here because i’m incredibly abnormal about it. (IDK IF THE TRANSLATION IM WATCHING IS ACCURATE BUT STILL…) basically in it sou asks mr. chidouin/meister if he can end the death game, and then he basically resolves that “to end it as soon as possible, i’ll kill everyone myself” which. ok girl. and then meister replies “it’s broken you after all” WHICH. OK GIRL? whay does that mean.

so yeah his ingenious “plan” in ytr is that in order to prevent another death game from ever happening again, he wants to destroy the game from the inside by killing everyone at asunaro + all of the participants. his logic behind this is that there’s nothing for him to go back to, he betrayed asunaro and the person he betrayed them for in the first place is dead. he also figures he’s likely to die soon if another main game rolls around and so well. if he’s going to go out might as well go out in flames!

of course this plan immediately has a wrench thrown in it when his mother shows up and he is plunged headfirst back into childhood trauma. and also the fact that he truly does care about both kai and kugie (and maple if she’s still alive at this point) even though he’s desperately trying to act like he doesn’t. so much like his cringefail best friend he ends up being much less of a villain throughout chapter 3 and more just a Guy Who’s Having a Really Bad Week

ok i cannot. write anymore i am so sorry if this is completely incomprehensible iwas drafting this at 1am. but if you are interested in hearing more i give full permission to you (or anyone else reading this) to ask me about specific events that happen in chapter 3 on either route because i would be very glad to talk about them 👍

[everythingsinred]

lil tentative psa

shared a bit abt this in the ga discord server a bit ago but i lost track of it because i got very busy in the interim but i see the problem has not gone away (and in fact gotten a bit worse) so i am going to share some info here.

i see that "capsize" by Ducky-san on ffn has been crossposted onto ao3 under a different username (DarkFaerie0) and im suspicious bc the original notes on the chapters are gone and there is no mention of the original work or crossposting. i'm concerned that someone is stealing someone else's work and claiming credit for it. i have reached out to Ducky-san directly on ffn but since they haven't been active in a few years, i don't know if i will get a response.

the crossposted fic has a decent amount of interaction and comments for a ga fic, and if it isn't Ducky-san, then it makes me sick to see someone else get praise for hard work that isn't theirs.

if this is this is them crossposting their own work, then i'm happy they're still kicking! but if this is a fic thief, then i suggest ppl proceed with caution

i'm posting to spread caution but also if you know anything about who is posting that fic, please let me know. if it is Ducky-san under a new user, then i will happily delete this post! but if it isn't, then some interference will need to take place.