#eating has always been tedious at best

[eldritchmochi]

its absolutely hilarious to me how much of coping skills involves feederism as a kink considering how much i personally hate eating

[everythingspokenfor]

─ ・┈ ・ ─ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ─ ・┈ ・ ─

Being best friends with Bakugou has been one of the best things for you. He is a good hero, but a greater man. He cares even tho it may seem he doesn't.

Occasionally, complimenting the way Kirishima used he quirk, because he knows, how insecure he is about not having a "flashy" quirk. Pulling aside Kaminari, when he knows that overdoing his zaps, his brain fries. Looking out for Jirou, because he knows she stays quiet and sometimes overthinks things. Helping Mina design things for her agency under the disguise that he doesn't want it looking sloppy. Setting Sero straight when he knows he has gone off track.

Overall Bakugou looks out for his friends in a very subtle way. You notice it tho, you have been noticing it for few years now. Sharing an apartment with Bakugou has shown you a new side of him, you suppose. When he cooks beef, he makes 3 servings because the extra gets packed for Kirishima. When he makes brownie he makes a separate batch to send back to U.A. for Eri and co.

The cutlery he buys, always have to be in sets of 12, for when there is a family and friends dinner (even tho he jokes he doesn't like inviting extras).

He has a spare bedroom always equipped with new sheets and toiletries just in case someone wanted to crash in. His bathroom cabinets holding a container filled with extra brushes.

You know he cares. So you care for him too. You cook for him even tho your cooking skills aren't that good. You do his laundry separating the whites and blacks even tho you find it tedious. You dust around the house every once in a while too.

Hoping that may Bakugou figures out that you care for him too.

Tho you know he cares for you how he cares for everyone, cooking you food because you share an apartment and the responsibility that comes with it. Carrying a spare jacket because he knows, you desire to be fashionable will be taken over by your desire to be warm.

You wished he cared for you differently, perhaps it's selfish on your part to ask for more than what you are already given, but you can't help it. Especially when you know, how Bakugou cares when he loves someone.

You know she works at his agency, on the 4th floor, with pr department. Bakugou told you that. The day his team hired, you didn't thing you would loath someone you didn't even know back then.

Initially she was just a name, an employee then she became someone that was clumsy and funny. Then Bakugou told you, she smells like bakery and has a tendency to eat brownies during work. So the 2 brownie batches became 3. 3rd one being packed in pretty yellow boxes and taken to work the next day while you cleaned the brownie pans.

You suppose your jealousy subsided when you saw how happy he was. Meticulous Bakugou that woke up at 5 am to workout became Katsuki who woke up at 5 am and stood at his balcony giggling on the phone till 6. Beef servings became 4 because Kirishima told her that Bakugou cooks more then just sweets.

Always coming back home around 6 pm Bakugou turned into "I'll be staying at her place tonight" Katsuki.

Get togethers with friends became slightly suffocating because everyone talked about how happy she made him. Bakugou ducked his head and blossomed red till his ears. You teased him for it, throwing you head back and laughing. You knew he deserves happiness and you where glad she makes him happy.

It wasn't long before you met her. She was pretty, infact quite beautiful. Clumsy just like Bakugou told you, no wonder he found her endearing. She talked easily, always including everyone in the conversation. Despite that you felt like you were intruding, like it's not your apartment and as if you should look at the clock and bid farewell and leave.

You knew that apartment you moved in together after high school wasn't really a permanent home.

But you didn't realise you would want to move out so soon.

─ ・┈ ・ ─ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ─ ・┈ ・ ─

[r0ttenhearts]

wasted on you

idol! scaramouche x reader

sypnosis: after an argument with scaramouche he has to perform for a show. the show must go on, despite his mind being anywhere but the present

warnings: angst, arguments, no comfort

“scara, we’re on in 5!”

“i know, i know. just give me a minute.”

scaramouche fumbled with his phone, typing a hasty response and sending it to you. it had only been a few hours since you last spoke, or fought. your angry voice still ringing in his ears, the harsh words left between you two as he left you there. alone.

it was eating at him, the way you looked so defeated. so done.

but you’d still show up for his show, right? you never missed one. even after bickering with him you’d always show. that smile on your face as he met you backstage after every show, embracing you while you praised him for a job well done.

he hoped that would be the case as he stood next to his friends, ready to perform that tedious dance routine heizou had choreographed for the group. painted nails adjusted his mic, a wide smile plastered on his face as he moved with his friends in sync.

his dark eyes scanned the crowd, looking for your usual spot he’d get you tickets for. the memory made him smile, your complaints of not getting the best view when he’d given you a different spot.

his smile faltered for a moment before perking back up as he realized you weren’t there. that comforting presence he’d always find when he felt the most nervous about his ability to perform wasn’t there. the one person he wanted to watch him wasn’t there.

“if you’re going to keep whining why don’t you just leave?”

“do you mean that scara?”

“i can’t even bother to look at your face right now. archons, don’t you see how lucky you are to have me? i could have anyone but i chose you.”

“maybe i shouldn’t have.”

his blood ran cold, recalling his words to you. he hadn’t meant it. he only said it in the moment because he was so angry. so angry about you pestering him. so what if your third year anniversary was on the same day of the concert? you knew how important it was to him, right?

more important than your relationship.

the rest of the concert droned on. he felt like a zombie, the same strenuously practiced choreography being repeated once more to a crowd of thousands of fans. the same songs he’d practiced with the group leaving his lips until they left the stage, heading back to their dressing rooms backstage.

he hoped, prayed, that you’d be there, sitting in his chair and ready to give him a hug. but you weren’t. he was greeted with nothing but an empty room, his makeup on the dresser left the way he had abandoned it. scara swallowed thickly as he pulled out his phone, opening your chat. his heart dropped seeing the “delivered” notification missing.

a dry laugh escaped his lips, almost collapsing at his dresser chair. his fingers tapping on his screen harshly.

scara: (y/n)? did you really block me

scara: this isn’t funny

scara: don’t be like this please.

scara: i didn’t mean it, you know that

he could feel a lump well up in his throat as the “not delivered” notification popped up. his phone was just acting up, right? you didn’t leave him. you couldn’t have. you promised him you’d always be there for him, especially after his mother left him.

it seemed cruel, the way he checked all of his social media accounts to see that you had blocked him on every single one. your bio now missing a ring emoji that you both once had on your profile.

tears welled up in his eyes, fist slamming on his dresser as he thought back to the argument. the very thing that had led to this.

to say he had been stressed was an understatement. with both the concert and your anniversary coming up he was faced with the decision to pick between the two. it almost seemed too easy, but he couldn’t forget the way your face fell as he told you he was still planning to attend to the performance.

you understood, didn’t you? perfect little (y/n) always waiting for him. watching him as he played out his part in the career he enjoyed. he could make it up to you after the concert, anyway. your anniversaries would always come again, but he couldn’t leave his friends high and dry for some relationship.

they needed him! it wasn’t even a question when it came to the two.

but if you knew that, why were you so angry? why did you shout at him that you wanted him to pick you instead?

“i’m sick of this, scara! i want to feel important to you! i don’t want to come second to none for the things you care about!”

“what are you bitching about now? you say this like we haven’t already done something for the other two. stop whining.”

the angry tears in your eyes as you shoved him was not something he was used to seeing. he didn’t think you’d be so upset at the news. even through your anger, your silence scared him more.

“i just thought.. i mattered to you, scara. i guess after three years i still don’t get the memo..”

“don’t be stupid (y/n). if you behave after we can do whatever you want for this stupid anniversary. you’d like that, wouldn’t you? you’re like a dog. threatening to bite but wagging your tail if i give you a crumb of a promise. it’s pathetic, really.”

“i didn’t mean it, i didn’t mean it.” he whispered to himself, eyes glued to your profile that now had him blocked.

“i wish you wouldn’t—“

“are you gonna keep bitching?”

that was the last night he saw you, the last night he ever called you his. he sat alone in that dressing room, his red eyeliner smeared as he cried into his hands. it wasn’t like him at all. he hadn’t realized how much he needed that bond, that intimacy he craved as he’d been lacking in it since he was a child.

maybe then he’d learn to cherish the things he had, before he pushed them away. he’s made a nasty habit of that, hasn’t he?

a/n: i got the idea to throw this together after the ask from @magica-ren so thank you!

part II

taglist: @samarill @sakiimeo @astrolomona @dearsumire @saeism @shoheartluv @0kauy @lelemnh @ayameei @aqualesha @msdevilis

[cosmic-slumber-party]

Training with Sanemi Shinazugawa

As his tsuguko

CW: Swearing, mentions of injuries

💨 As his tsugoku, you go through many hours of very tedious training. Of course, you can take it though, Sanemi would not have chosen you if you couldn't. This doesn't change the fact that you are always exhausted by the end of the day. Some days you don't even finish until morning.

💨 He is very hard on you, to the point you think he may hate you sometimes, but he just wants you to survive. If at the end of the day you come home, he has done his job.

💨 Sanemi is the hardest on you after he comes back from a mission, as he is reminded just how ruthless demons can be.

💨 When you get back from your own missions, Sanemi makes sure that you get the best care at the butterfly mansion. He will go a little easier on you after you have recovered, but it doesn't last long. He doesn't want you to keep getting injured by demons, so he needs to go even harder on you.

💨 If you come home completely unscathed, he becomes very proud. He doesn't show it though.

"No injuries this time? Must have been a weakass demon."

You know this means he's relieved.

💨 He may have a little say on what your next assignments may be. If they are ever suspiciously easy, you just know it was that stoic and aggressive Hashira.

💨 If you ever come home very injured, he beats himself up thinking about where he went wrong with training. As you get better, he comes up with different methods to help you defend yourself better. At first you thought he was punishing you for not being good enough, but with time you learned that this was his way of protecting you.

💨 You have had a couple Hashira come up to you asking if you want to be their tsuguko instead. Like Mitsuri and Tengen. Whenever Sanemi hears this, he immediately gets pissed off.

"Oh come on L/N! Come back with me and be my tsuguko. We can eat sweets together. I promise I won't be mean to you like Shinazugawa."

At the Love Hashira's words, Sanemi scowls. "Like you could train a tsuguko. L/N needs training not sweets. What are sweets going to do to a demon?"

You continue training, but do notice that the next day someone has left some red bean mochi in your room.

💨 Going on assignments with one another is always fun and stressful. He knows he can let you do your thing, but he always keeps an eye out for you.

💨 Overall, he is a great trainer and person. After some time, you both consider each other close companions. Both putting your own lives on the line for the other.

[vilsoo]

𝑳𝑰𝑽𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑫𝑬𝑨𝑫 𝑩𝑶𝒀 ⌇LEON KENNEDY

ghost!leon kennedy x fem!reader || WC: 5,832

𖤐 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. after a dreadful divorce, retreating to your secluded lakehouse by the woods was all you needed. as you seek solitude, you may feel alone, but are you really alone…? especially when an old friend of yours has been haunting you?

𖤐 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. mentions of stalking, slight ooc leon, angst, hurt/comfort, haunted vacation home, voyeurism, murder, paranormal activity, sex with a ghost, gentle → rough smut, mirror sex, switchy!leon, 1980s setting.

𝑯𝑶𝑹𝑹𝑶𝑹𝑳𝑨𝑵𝑫/𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑲𝑻𝑶𝑩𝑬𝑹 𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻

[ANNOUNCER] Your attention please! Horrorland is now opened for all guests. We hope you enjoy our exciting attractions and parklands this year, such as the new parkland Teratophilia Woodlands and the return of Horrorland’s famous parkland, Sex and Horror City! Please remember to be mindful of other guests making their way through and abide by our safety rules. Thank you for coming to Horrorland this Halloween!

[HAUNTED HOUSE ANNOUNCER] You are now entering the Living Dead Boy live venue. This haunted house attraction depicts scenes of violence, intense loud audio, special effects, and content warnings posted. For a fun and safe experience, please follow our code of conduct: no touching live performers and decorations, no flash photography, and no eating. Do not block passageways, or this will result in expulsion. Smoking and drinking are permitted for our haunted houses only. We hope you enjoy.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

There was something about the shadows of your lakehouse, knowing every move of yours, beckoning and unhindered. The feeling of the meadows outside watching you, eyes hidden in the blossoming flower buds. Though this may be spine-chilling to some, you felt odd comfort in this foreign presence looming within the air you breathe…

You were a newly divorced woman living alone in the woods by the lake. This place was meant to be a surprise vacation home whenever you and your now ex-husband felt like traveling out of town— a place that you and him could also move in as you grow old together. But it was lucky for you that you never revealed this surprise for him ‘till this day. This was now a safe haven for you to start your healing journey and live the life you’ve always wanted outside of your dreary marriage.

Your ex-husband was a loving man, you must admit. Marriage is like a lush garden where the both of you must tend to it in order for it to grow; but the day when your ex-husband fell tedious about his love for you, the slow death of your marriage began. And there you were, trying your hardest to blossom that same spark you felt when you first fell in love. Trying your best to save your relationship and live the lavish life you both wanted. But it was no use in the end, resulting in this divorce.

Trying to forget your mundane husband who fell out of love with you, you decided to pursue your hobbies and interests. One of them was something that reasonably unsettled your husband; your strange and peculiar interest in paranormal activity. It’s human nature to be drawn into what can’t be easily explained, like supernatural occurrences and intriguing ghost stories. You’ve even heard about different cultures and their folklore about several spirits and theories of the afterlife, perpetuating your fascination of the paranormal.

You’ve always wanted to try to summon a ghost. And since you now lived alone, you could do whatever you want without your ex criticizing you.

It was your first night alone in the lakehouse and you were already in bed. All your tears have finally dried up and were soaked into your pillowsheets. As you close your eyes and tried to drift off to sleep, you didn’t realize how touch-starved you really were; after several weeks without intimacy and passion that you used to share with your ex-husband, you couldn’t take it.

Without shame, your hands travel down to your pajama pants as your arousal stirred erratically. You chafed your finger against your panties, feeling how wet you were, craving not only for an orgasm; but yearning for a better partner out there… Someone who knows how to take care of you and satiate your desires. You’ve never felt so alone, but it’s human nature; a psychological need for intimacy and connection.

This has been your next few nights alone in your new place, masturbating yourself to sleep and trying to forget the life you used to live. All while finding solitude and comfort in being alone.

But if you only knew that you weren’t really alone.

Somewhere in the silhouettes of your dreamscapes, there was this reoccurring man that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. But he was oddly, vaguely familiar— and he wouldn’t leave the synapses of your brain, haunting the corners of your mind like a vagrant thought. A man with brown hair with fringes on each side and deep brown eyes. Why couldn’t you recognize him? Was he a figure from a past life? Is he the foreign body that’s in the air you breathe and the gust of wind that hugs your skin every morning?

Your gut feeling was growing stronger every day; somebody was, in fact, watching you.

Haunting you.

Sending messages in your dreams.

Dreams where he’s murmuring to you words that you cannot make out, as if they were a distant echo. And when you’re awake, you started to notice slight differences inside your home. Candles mysteriously going out, lights flickering, unexplained noises, temperature drops, and decorations in the house being misplaced…

Piqued with such curiosity that you couldn’t stand it, you finally went out your way to try to communicate with the spirit world. There were various popular methods to summon ghosts, such as a seance ritual, a summoning circle, talisman charms, and the latest invention of the ouija board that you’ve been hearing many thrilling stories about. But you decided to do this the old-fashioned way.

On the floor, you carefully arranged sacred items on your living room floor by the fireplace to start the seance. With a circle of salt, dried herbs, incense, and most importantly the harmony of your soul. Everything in your environment must be quiet in order for the lurking spirit to appear, and you meditated for a few moments just to put your mind at ease with the intention of allowing them in. Then, you murmured softly:

“Are you here with me, spirit?”

“If there are any spirits in the room with me right now, please let me know you are here.”

“You are safe here.”

You kept your eyes shut as you murmured towards the spirit to reveal themselves. You even recited some pure affirmations or mantras just to resonate them into a safe and welcome environment. That’s when the temperature suddenly dropped again and the cool air drizzled your skin with goosebumps. Shivers began to crawl down your back that the hair in your arms and neck all raised. And when you slowly open your eyes, a translucent figure materialized right before you; the same vaguely familiar man with brown hair and skin as pale as moonlight, that’s been living in your dreams was not other than your ex-husband’s best friend:

Mr. Leon Kennedy.

The same man that was your husband’s best man on your wedding day.

A very close friend of yours as well.

Before the ghost of Leon could even utter your name and try to calm you down, many emotions were already stirring in your head that your heartbeat expelled all of the air from your lungs at this bewildering, obscure sight. You were frazzled from confusion, horror, and shock. And it wasn’t just the sight of a real ghost that utterly scared you— the fact that a man you’ve known for years and grew close with, who you thought disappeared from your life with no explanation after the divorce, was actually dead.

How long as he been dead?

Was he the one that’s been watching me all this time..?

“Leon..!?” you sputtered, your vision suddenly blurry from tears welling. “You’re… you’re—“

“I know. I know.” Leon sauntered closer to you with caution and got on his knee to reassure you, feeling his heart sink when he sees you crying. “You deserve an explanation. And I tried my best reaching out to you in your dreams, but I didn’t think it’d be that difficult.”

“How long have you been… gone?” you sniffled. “I tried calling you several times after Wesker and I were through, but you never picked up. I thought you took his side and never wanted to speak to me again—“

“No, no! It’s not your fault. That’s not the case at all,” he reassures. “But now that I’m here, I’m going to tell you the truth and only the truth.”

“The truth? What truth..?”

Leon swallowed thickly as he stood up, averting his numb gaze to the wooden floor. You’ve never seen him in such a lifeless, emotionless state. You wanted to give this poor man a hug, if only that were possible that you can physically feel him one last time. All you could think about were the memories from years ago where you would laugh at his silly and awkward jokes, inviting him over for barbecue where he’d bring the meat for your ex-husband to grill, or even help out in the yard.

It made your chest tighten, the way your heart sank deeply in sorrow for not reaching out to Leon one last time. For not cherishing your final moments together. When you reflect on your memories with him, you recall how he always remembered small details about you that your ex-husband wouldn’t even remember. How he was helping you with housework, trying to brighten up your day with his jokes, wanting to play bingo together, or even going as far as taking your side when you and your ex argued.

He was always there for you. Always. And you couldn’t believe that he would show more support for you than your ex…

“The truth is… I was murdered. By him.”

Such daunting words you would’ve never imagined a day in your life to be uttered out of somebody’s lips. The more your confusion paralyzed your coherence, you weren’t able to retain or process anything. How did it all come to this very moment? Why would your ex-husband, a close friend of his from childhood, murder him just like that? Why would he go out of his way to kill an innocent man? Leon could see the distraught expression on your face; finding out that the man you married and loved was a killer. But the moment your mind didn’t doubt it at all was what was utterly terrifying about this situation.

His gaze traveled towards the window, staring absentmindedly at the trees outside as he began to explain. You wanted to comfort him the best you, getting up from your knees and standing beside him to stare at the window together.

“A couple of weeks ago before your divorce finalized… Wesker invited me to go hunting with him. We traveled to the woodlands together and brought our guns. But when we separated just to find some deer, I thought I was alone until he snuck up behind me and he— he swung an axe at the back of my head before I could even turn around.”

You eyes widened in horror, feeling your gut wrenching from such a traumatic memory. It was a shame that the deceit you've engulfed yourself with now became your truth; your husband had underlying sociopathic tendencies. He was a murderer. You thought he was just anti-social at times and would lash out at you over nothing, making everything your fault. But it was all him. He was the problem.

You were lucky you managed to leave him. But Leon, unfortunately, wasn’t. His soul might be trapped, possibly cursed to haunt the human world forever until the act of freeing his soul from an unfinished business. More tears trickled down your face as he continued his story.

“Suddenly I woke up alone in the woods. I thought it was all just a dream or a hallucination— but the first thing I thought about was you. I ran all the way to your house to make sure you were okay. I wanted to tell you that Wesker attempted to kill me— but that night when I made it to your house, you couldn’t hear me knocking on the door. Knocking on your windows, calling out your name as you were doing the dishes and listening to the radio. It wasn’t until I tried to open your front door that my hand phased right through it. When you couldn’t see or hear me, that’s when it all came to me… I was dead. I’m a dead man.”

“Oh, Leon,” you confided, sniffing and wiping your tears. “I— I’m so sorry—“

“Please. It’s not your fault,” he murmurs softly, his translucent hand gently caressing your face that it felt like a tickle. “I always knew you had a thing about ghosts. I thought maybe you could try to summon me or something like that. Maybe feel me in the air or in the wind, but I’m glad that some messages I sent to you went through. And now I’m here. With you.”

You chuckled. Leon was always the one to cheer you up with banter whenever you told him you were having a bad day. “I just— I kept seeing you in my dreams but I couldn’t recognize you. But just feeling your presence in the house was… comforting for me. It’s like I knew there was a ghost here, but it wouldn’t threaten or harm me. As if you were… protecting me.”

Leon held his breath from the soft gaze in your eyes, taking in him like he was traipsed in a spiderweb. Just like the same feeling he always felt when he was alive with you, the infatuation spread in his limbs— he always adored you. He always admired you. And he did, incandescently, love you. He knew it was unrequited. He knew there would never be a day he would profess his love for you; he would rather take that secret to his grave. But now that he’s a half-dead man given one more chance to see you again, he didn’t want to hold back anymore. The beautiful connection he had with you was what he cherished for the longest, something so special that he would never want to lose again.

“I’ll always be here to protect you,” he murmured fondly. “Because, I…”

There was this sweet sensation interwoven, burning every molecule of desire in your bodies. Leon has been aching to caress you, to hold you safe in his arms, to touch you in places that sends you right over the edge... Even in death, even when he doesn’t have a body or bones or a heart, he can still feel himself burning with agitation and anticipation; he's never been in such a tense moment with you, especially alone together…

The way you looked into him. Taking in his face. His curious gaze attaches onto yours, like he was being traipsed into your hypnotic mystery, willingly surrendering himself to you this time. For the first time, he could see a hint of vulnerability in your longing gaze that he’s never seen before. And it wasn’t just infatuation or adoration; together, the both of you were consumed by this untamable desire floating in the air.

“I… I’ve loved you ever since I met you. And I wish I told you sooner—“ his voice trembles, shaking his head in desperation— “I wish it was me that you were marrying when I saw you walking down that aisle, I wish it was me living together with you as your husband— God, even in death I still wish that I could have you as mine—“

“Leon,” you spoke softly, inching closer to him. “I’m already yours. I’ll always have you in my heart. Because I loved you, too.”

Just hearing you profess your love for him from those sweet lips of yours, which he believed would be unrequited until he died, made everything feel surreal. He felt alive again. He felt his entire soul rejuvenate. Death was no longer a barrier for his blossoming, fond love for you.

“I wish I could kiss you,” you continued. “If only I left Wesker long ago, I would’ve been able to feel your lips on mine already.”

Leon felt the way your soul was yearning for him, resonating right through him that his gaze suddenly drifted to the body mirror behind you. You turn your head and see only your own reflection— but when Leon lightly touched your shoulder, his inexplicable sensation made you flinch. As if you could physically feel him, a cold, unseen caress brushing against your skin.

“How— how is that possible?” you gasped, eyes still attached on your reflection.

A small smirk stretches on the corner of his lips. “If I remember correctly… you told me before that mirrors are a conduit for ghosts to make contact with the human world. I can touch you, but… you can’t. Can you feel me when I touch you like this? Is this alright with you?”

A deep sigh falls from your lips when Leon’s broad chest is pressed against your back, breathing softly into your neck and continuing to caress your arms. This tingling, blossoming sensation was something you’ve never felt in your life that it made your own blood freeze. You were rendered docile to your tantalizing effect; a state that your ex-husband rarely had you in when you were intimate together. Your breathing grew heavier and the knots in your stomach became contorted.

Never in your life have you ever crossed the thought of having sex with a ghost. You didn’t even think it’d be possible. But this ghost— this spirit looming in the air you breathe— was a man you deeply adorned, a man that passionately loved you before his life was robbed. And being touched like this, being caressed and the way Leon caresses every inch of your body as if he was worshipping you, was just saccharine of all things. Bliss, euphoria, passion— passion is the word to describe your rapport, to describe how well you fit together in the most vulgar ways. This was Leon’s everything. Despite the unfortunate circumstances, he couldn’t have been happier now that he finally has you.

“I’ve been wanting to do this to you—“ he softly kisses your neck, “—for so long… Day and night, watching you play with yourself to sleep… It’s embarrassing to admit, but I’d jerk myself off to you fingering yourself like that. Is it alright if I touch you like this?”

His nonplus words slipped your mind completely; in fact, you were slightly amused by Leon being a total pervert as a ghost. You let out a whimper from his ghostly hand slowly traveling down your body, eyes never leaving the mirror.

Leon took in everything that makes of you in cold calculation. You were trapped in a bliss, faintly moaning from his caresses that dissolved you. It was almost bewildering to see your own nightgown ruffling by an invisible force in the reflection, lifting the seam to reveal your panties. Your body writhed as he glides lower and lower, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin when his fingers are chafing your swollen cunt…

“Oh, Leon,” you moaned softly, “please kiss me. I need to— It feels so good—“

“You don’t have to ask me twice, beautiful.”

When your head slanted back, Leon’s lips pressing onto yours felt intangible, yet oddly palpable. Such beautiful lips that possess a cold, ethereal softness, almost as if you’re brushing against a whisper of frost. Both of you were too enraptured by this that the kiss fades from soft to sloppy, collecting your breaths every few seconds then finding your lips back on his. The way he kissed you as his fingers rubbed on your clit— your mind went crazy over this tender and hauntingly ravenous moment of consuming each other right in front of the mirror… How you needed him, how you craved for him, even in death.

“I’ve always wanted you this way… To make love to you like this,” he cooed in your ear. “Let me love you, Y/N. I’ll make you forget about that man. I’ll fuck you and make you come in ways he couldn’t...”

You were soaked, completely drenched that your arousal trailed down from your cunt to your inner thighs. All you could do was whine in such carnal heat. Who knew that a man like Leon could render you as a needy, deprived slut? You and your body obliged to his desires, surrendering yourself to his ghostly presence as he toys with your cunt in front of your mirror. He takes his cock out, feeling his tip brushing the folds of your cunt and coating it with your juices. As he slides it between your thighs and rubs against your pussy, you’re already wrecked— and he’s not even inside you yet. It was a hot sight to see in yourself on the mirror losing your mind over an invisible force teasing you like this.

“Need you inside me, please,” you beg to the ghost. “I can take it all…”

Your jaw slackened, throwing your head back in pleasure when Leon slid inside you, the white-hot waves of sensation coursing in your bodies. “I’ve dreamed of this every night,” he whispered, the husk in his voice filling your ears. “I’ve always dreamed of what you felt like… Fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

Your heart was racing like wildfire. His affect on you was like roses of desire blossoming in your limbs, growing and spreading to all parts of you so intimately. With your inhibitions tossed away, nothing didn’t matter to you anymore except for this moment. You only needed Leon to fulfill the insatiable hunger you’ve both been hiding ever since the day he comforted you when your ex couldn’t.

The feeling of him being inside you, clenching harder on him and hearing your fervent moans made his mind raw and twisted. Leon’s mouth buried into your neck, your darling aroma filling his nose. You could hear him groan and pant heavily against your ears, a rush of heat coursing through his blood like wildfire that it drove him from passionately making love with you to relentlessly fucking you right there.

You were desperate to grasp on something, bending yourself over just to grip onto the frame of the mirror as he thrusted hard into you. Leon loved the way you smiled at yourself, loved that you were enjoying all of this.

“I— I’m not gonna last much longer,” he panted out. “You— you just feel so good…”

You arched your back further for him to show your ass off, feeling him gripping it with his large hands as he bucked his hips and fucked into you much faster. “Please— please come in me, Leon,” you pleaded as your eyes fell half-lidded.

“Fuck. I’ve been dreaming to hear you say that to me, too. You’re so fucking hot when I fuck you like this…”

Such filthy, lewd sounds you made that you never knew were possible with Leon’s translucent body were echoed off the walls of your lakehouse. You could feel him raking against your insides as if he was molding your cunt to hug his ghost cock perfectly. Electric sensations skyrocket through you before you could even register it all, your glossy eyes welling with tears and your face all ravished and wanton beyond comprehension.

It was a fleeting second after you realize your orgasm had already washed over you, your hips stuttering like a riptide from this delirious torment. He really told the truth— Leon fucked you way better than your ex did that you were completely drunk by your own orgasm. His cock pulses against your soaking walls, his balls aching to be emptied inside you. A few more thrusts and he's letting out low groans with hot, sticky strings of his cum flooding into you.

Hot breaths fill the air as the two of you calmed down from your intense orgasms, feeling your rapid heartrate slowing down. After a moment when everything fell quiet, you turn your head to check on Leon, who suddenly had a tumult, concerned expression on his face.

You frowned, turning around to stand before him. “Are you okay, Leon?”

His gaze was attached on the floor, then steadily drifted back onto your face. “I’m fine, it’s just—” he holds your hand again, glancing at the window. For some reason, your heart started racing again, as if there was another confession that Leon might’ve been hiding...

“…I need to show you something.”

The both of you walk along the trunk of the woods, following suit behind Leon while the leaves crunch beneath your feet. You weren’t that far from your lakehouse, but something about him not telling you where you were going made your stomach cave into your spine. It felt as if your gut was telling you that you were about to uncover a dark and morbid secret lying in the heart of these woods, something so ghastly and lurid for the human mine to comprehend. It was strange to endure since you’ve known every inch of these woodlands for years.

Unfortunately, your gut feeling was correct.

Leon refused to say anything. Instead, he looked away from the macabre sight before you. He had a solemn, grim expression on his face as if he was ashamed of this, or culpable of everything that lead to this point. Tears once again started welling in your eyes, covering your mouth when you sobbed in such anguish. This was all too much for you to endure.

It was his rotting, dead body. Abandoned, forgotten, never found by anyone. The axe was nowhere to be found, but his old, dried blood was still spilled everywhere from his head. Suddenly, you were hit by deja vu, as if your dreams that Leon was sending you messages through were trying to lead you to his body as well.

“You were— you were not that far from the house,” you sniffled. “I should’ve— How did I not see your body!? If only I ventured further down here, I could’ve found you a long time ago and your body didn’t have to rot alone like this—“

“Y/N, no. Again, all of this isn’t your fault,” Leon protested, trying to cheer you up with his ghostly embrace. It reminded him of the time you cried in his arms before from a bad argument with your ex, and he comforted you just like this.

“But I just can’t leave you rotting like this! I need to call the police— You can’t just be left alone after how long ago you were murdered—“

“Look, I appreciate you for wanting to give me a proper burial, but… there’s one more thing I’ve been needing to tell you for so long.”

“Oh god— what is it now, Leon? How many secrets did you take to your grave?!”

He held onto both of your shoulders, swallowing thickly before he confessed; “I was supposed to kill Wesker.”

You blinked rapidly, frazzled once again with confusion when your brain fully processed his words. “Wait— supposed to? What does that mean?!”

“Shh, shh. It all makes sense— why I’m stuck being a ghost in the human world and that I can’t go to the afterlife. Wesker, he— when we went out during the hunting trip on the last day of my life, he was suspicious of us. I don’t know why, but I guess his jealousy got the best of him and that’s why he killed me. But little did he know, I was planning to kill him that day, too. I hated the way he treated you. It made my blood boil. He was a horrible husband and we both knew that. I was ready to kill him, but—“

“—you were too late,” you muttered weakly, another tear trickling down your face. “Leon…”

“No, it’s fine. You are justifying angry and upset about this whole situation. And I know— resorting to murder would’ve just made things worse. But that’s— that’s all that I wanted to tell you. I’m just happy that you left him instead and didn’t end up in danger.”

“Happy? How can you be happy when he’s still out there walking freely like he didn’t murder you?” you exasperated. “You have unfinished business. That’s why you’re stuck here. It’s not fair.”

Leon’s eyes widened in horror that he had to take a step back. “Y/N. Are you saying—“

“In order for your soul to be put to rest… we’re gonna kill my ex.”

This was the most diabolical request that Leon has ever heard from you, but he didn’t stop you at all. This was, after all, a plan he was originally supposed to carry out long ago. The days you’ve opened up to him about how he was a horrible husband to you was when it all started. All pent up from underlying anger, rage, and jealousy. But if only Leon protected you back then by keeping distance from you as his wife without leading to suspicion, none of his would’ve happened.

When nightfall came around, that was when the plan started. This wasn’t a murder that was going to take days, weeks, or months to plan; it was all happening tonight. And all you had to do was call him one last time at a phone booth on the street, giving him the location to a diner that was a few miles away by your lakehouse. Pleading to him that you wanted to talk things out one more time with him, begging him to come back, and promising that you were going to be a good wife for him again.

It was a good thing he fell for it. And once he said across the line that he was on the way, it was Leon’s turn to carry out the plan.

If you remembered correctly, the street that heads straight to the roadside diner also passes by the woodlands you stayed at. The road was dark as it stretches into the distance, flanked by the dense and overgrown trees that cast long, eerie shadows across the pavement. When your ex’s truck passed by alone, Leon’s ghost stood in the middle of the street. Struck with terror, he lost control of his car as he slammed the brakes. His truck ended up drifting off the road and into the woods, crashing into a tree trunk.

Sadly, the bastard was still alive.

But he knew what he saw; the ghost of a man that he swung his axe on, literally bashing his brains out and leaving his dead body alone in these woods. Wesker got out of his smoking truck, frazzled and dazed from the crash as a small drop of blood was streaming down his forehead. He was pissed as well.

Leon observed him diligently from a distance he blended in with the shadows, hearing Wesker fuming and cursing at himself while also kicking the pile of dead leaves on the forest floor. He didn’t have his phone to call for an emergency and the phone booth you used was still a few miles away. Of course, because of his injury and his head still pounding from the impact, he knew he couldn’t make it…

“Not yet,” you whispered to Leon as you were hiding behind a tree nearby. “I think he has a concussion. He can’t walk straight.”

“I think we should lure him deeper into the woods away from the street,” he suggested. “If we want this to make it look like an animal attacked him, he shouldn’t be out here.”

“Alright. Let’s fuck around with him, then.”

Wesker’s eyes became bloodshot, each throb in his head reverberating and pulsating through his entire being. Because of his rage and distress making him more disoriented, he felt as if the world around was blurring.

“Wesker?” you called out from a distance, a faint echo in the back of his frazzled head.

“…Y/N?” he slurred, his speech now slow and garbled. He furrowed his brows and squeezed his eyes shut trying to block out the pain, all while he tries to follow the sound of your voice.

Deeper and deeper he treaded weakly into the dark forest, trying to find you despite his injuries. He kept mumbling words to himself that you couldn’t make out. His knees began to feel like marshmallows, losing his balance, stability, and his sense of direction like he was this helpless, pathetic zombie. But he wasn’t going to be the only dead man stalking within these woods from now on….

It wasn’t until Leon stopped him in his tracks, standing menacingly a few feet away from your disoriented ex. And even though he was still bleeding and his thoughts were all mush and incoherent, nothing could’ve prepared him for the horror of seeing the ghost of the man he murdered in cold blood.

This was all merely an illusion. A nightmare. A hallucination. He was in a coma. He’s been asleep for years. Leon isn’t real. Leon is dead. His wife never called him. His wife never wanted to come back.

It was all just a dream, just a very bad dream.

All of this isn’t real.

“Hey, pal. You find any deer for us, yet?”

Before Wesker could ever inhale his last breath, before he could even register anything, you stood behind him with your axe raised high, the blade gleaming wickedly in the moonlight. You then swung it down with terrifying speed, catching him off guard with such a brutal impact. A sickening thud as it struck the back of his head, embedded right into his flesh and knocking him right onto the ground with parts of his brain and more of his fresh blood spilling out, splattering onto your face and clothes.

If only you did this sooner. Housewives poisoning and murdering their idiot husbands have been a big thing on the news, lately.

When everything died down and your adrenaline soothed in your veins, you dropped the axe as Leon ran over to check on you. But you couldn’t help but press your lips on his again in urgency, those sweet, ethereal ghost lips that seem to hypnotize you. He kissed back and held onto your face, the silver veil of the moonshine peaking through the leaves of the trees from above and shining onto him. Even after you had just killed someone, the way Leon makes you feel was so tender and ephemeral. You really loved this man so deeply and passionately...

“I really don’t want you to go yet,” you lamented as you pulled away from the kiss, caressing his face even though you couldn’t feel him. “Please tell me this isn’t goodbye. I can still see you, right? If I summon you through seance?”

He kisses your forehead in reassurance. Your melancholy gaze drifts off to the twinkling sky, trying not to cry again from the thought of Leon’s presence not accompanying you anymore, especially when you had just reunited with him tonight. Never have you been this emotional after everything that had just happened.

“You know that I’ll always be with you,” he promises. “I’ll be in the air. In the grass. The trees. The flowers in your garden… always looking over you. Just as long as you live your life… for me. Will you promise me that?”

You nodded slowly, your nose flaring from trying not to cry again. “I’ll love you forever, Leon. I won’t ever forget you in my heart.”

For the first time, Leon shed a small tear, as if you made a vow from your soul onto his soul. He knew this farewell would be bittersweet, but with the promise of your souls being intertwined in life and death, you will always find a way back to each other. A beautiful, transcending connection that would never be broken; this was another dream of Leon’s that was fulfilled, allowing his soul to finally rest in peace.

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐎 © 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. do not steal, plagiarize, translate, or repost/share any of my works on any social media where minors have access. will be cross- posted on my ao3 soon.

𖤐 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: @gloomiigloom @cloudi-eyes333 @shintax-error @oneyedwillie @st0nedbitch @alittletiredcry @ghoulette @imkrul @salems-trial @jnoppy @awkward-platypus @ggukiespace @migueloharacumslut @writtenbyawoman @colortheoryrocks @dvafoxxystrashcan @bigg1ow @doestalker @ghostlvmi @deftoneslut004 @yongi-lee @mostamazingpersonevr @isfleur @satxoru @

[yourdeepestfathoms]

The Lark and Hunting

Sometimes, hunting is a necessary evil.

It’s not fun, to be so close and connected to nature, and have to take a life from it to further your own.

But there’s a cycle.

And that cycle must not be broken.

Perrine does all the hunting.

Cole downright refuses to hunt animals. They’ll eat them, but they won’t kill anything.

Clémentine, bless their heart, tried. They really did.

But when they stared down the arrow at the tender face of a doe, the way she almost seemed to resign to her fate when she saw them standing there, they just couldn’t bring themself to shoot.

Perrine told them not to personify the animals. They know not of human emotion- not really. Thinking about their family won’t help you survive.

But they still couldn’t do it.

They broke down into tears, apologizing to both the unslain deer and to Perrine.

And they haven’t tried again since.

Kingsley simply isn’t allowed to touch a weapon.

So, it’s Perrine’s job.

Perrine hunts with a bow and arrow. Because guns aren’t whimsy.

The kids (read as: Perrine) own two bows- one that Perrine bought, and one that Perrine made herself.

There will be days where she’s gone from sunrise to sunset, just crouched somewhere in the woods, waiting.

Sometimes she’ll climb up into a tree and perch there. Other days she’ll sit in a bush for hours.

Hunting is tedious and long and boring, but it needs to be done if she wants everyone to be fed.

When you’re out there, you don’t really have anything but your thoughts. And it’s best to put any demons to rest before you go out.

Perrine has a lot of time to think.

Too much, in fact.

She wasn’t raised to engage in bloodsports. It’s unbecoming of her.

She’s a kid. She shouldn’t have to be doing this.

And yet, she is.

She gets used to it, over time.

Or so she tells herself.

But, man, did she cry the first time she ever killed her first animal.

It was a rabbit. A tiny little thing that wouldn’t even be enough to feed the whole group.

And she wept over it.

Even now, she feels bad for every animal she hunts. Despite what she said to Clémentine about not humanizing the animals. She’s a hypocrite who can’t take her own advice.

After every kill, she’ll kneel by the body and just give it a moment of silence, paying her respects.

Despite this, though, there’s something calming about hunting—when her thoughts aren’t as loud as a roar, of course.

She feels so close to nature when she’s out in the wilderness. It’s just her and the trees and the animals.

So it isn’t always so bad. And she doesn’t always hate it.

BUT ALSO.

It can be frustrating.

Waiting out there for hours, and then coming back empty-handed, either because she just didn’t find anything or because she messed up her chances somehow.

Because the slightest slip up can ruin everything for you.

Slightly shifting her weight and causing the grass beneath her to just barely crunch, sneezing, breathing out just a bit too loudly, and suddenly the animal she’s been stalking all day is gone.

Perrine has exploded into full screeches of rage and chucked her bow over this.

Kingsley, to the others, hearing Perrine’s howls of fury echo all the way to their house: it sounds like it’s going well!

Perrine mostly hunts foxes, birds, and small game such as rabbits and squirrels. Deer and wild boars are a little harder for her to take down.

Plus, deer are quite big, and she is a preteen. So it’s always difficult to get the deer back to the cottage. Because they’re hard to carry, and she doesn’t want to drag them because that’ll ruin their hide. She usually ends up carrying them on her back, though.

She once carried a boar over her shoulders because it’s the easiest way to transport animals, and she got fleas from it. She was so pissed.

She doesn’t hunt moose.

Of course, being out in the woods is dangerous for a kid her age.

She once encountered a bear in the woods. It was a black bear. She managed to scare it off by making herself as big as possible while shouting, but it was still a terrifying moment. She didn’t risk pissing it off by shooting at it.

She also once got attacked by a wild boar. In her opinion, those things are more dangerous than a bear. Meaner than one, too. That little bastard attacked her for no reason!

She got charged at by a buck in rut before.

Another time, she shot a deer, and it bolted straight at her. It plowed over her, and when she reached back to feel where she had been struck by its antlers, her hands came back bright red. She thought for sure she had been impaled and was bleeding out, and she started saying her final prayers, but luckily, it was just the blood from the deer. She did have MASSIVE bruising all over her back, though.

Perrine beefs with other hunters.

She hates people who hunt for sport. In her head, if they aren’t going to at least eat the animal, it’s senseless killing.

Her most prized game was this gorgeous ten-point buck. His rack literally had her awestruck- she had never seen antlers that big and beautiful before. (He was a pain in the ass to haul back to the cottage, but it was worth it, both for that skull and for the meat he gave to them).

She tries not to kill doe, just in case they have a baby somewhere.

Alongside hunting, Perrine also handles the grisly task of skinning and gutting.

And she sometimes resents the others for not swallowing their nausea and helping her, giving her a goddamn break from all this work, but there’s no point in complaining.

Gutting is…well, gruesome, to say the least.

It’s not only physically taxing, but emotionally taxing, too.

Something about digging your young, shaking hands into the hot viscera of something that was once living, something that you stole the life from, something that you killed, takes a tole on your mental wellbeing after a while.

But it needs to be done.

A necessary evil.

There’s a general rule to not bother Perrine when she’s gutting unless absolutely necessary.

Perrine strongly believes in using every part of an animal.

The meat is obviously eaten. If she doesn’t immediately cook it, she’ll preserve it by curing it for another day.

The guts are also eaten, especially during the winter when money is tight and food is even tighter, what with their garden being pretty much dead. The others are less than thrilled about having to eat liver and heart and brains, especially Kingsley, who will complain, and Perrine has simply stopped telling them that they’re eating guts. Where’s the harm in lying?

And then the guts that aren’t eaten get chucked into a bin and are used to attract flies, which then make maggots, which are then used for feed for their quails (because additional hc: the kids raise quail because i think it’s cute).

Sinew is used to make cordage, but the process is aggravating.

Fat is used for a variety of things, such as butter substitutes, candles, soap, and salve. Clémentine and Cole both enjoy making candles and soap together!

Bones are also used in a variety of ways!Sometimes Perrine will use them as decorations, carving them to make chimes or other little trinkets. Or they’ll be crafted into weapons. Or they’ll be used for food, though Perrine is the only one who actually likes the taste of bone marrow. Or, if she doesn’t want to do any of that, she’ll grind them down to make fertilizer. And, of course, she keeps the skulls for herself.

Antlers are used for weapons. Or Perrine just keeps them for decoration.

Fur is, of course, used for clothing and decoration. Fleshing can be tedious, but it’s worth it in the end. Perrine will keep her favorite hides for herself, just to display in her room. Sometimes she’ll sell the hides to make some extra money.

Once, some hides Perrine left out rotted because they got too damp outside, and she had a full mental breakdown over it. It had been a bad week to begin with, and that was just the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Overall, it’s a grisly job. Every part of it. Even the good.

But it’s necessary.

[jinkookspencil]

Hey, one with jk, he attends a red carpet and saw for the first time to his idol ( this world wide famous singer) and starts fanboying her, and they spend time together, and he asks for his number

i was surprised at how quickly i wrote this since my writing pace has been so incredibly slow and also since i’ve never written idol!jungkook like this before or idol!reader. now i keep resisting the urge to hold it in my drafts and add to it and make it longer >.< i feel like i might be able to maybe continue it?? but idk. thank you sm for requesting, anon!! i hope you like it!

<3

she’s here? | jjk

jungkook arrives at another tedious brand event… only to see his celebrity crush

wc: ~1.8k

tags: idol!jungkook x idol!reader (afab reader) / fluff / one-shot / first meeting / clean except swearing / featuring: kim mingyu of seventeen / mentions: IU and cha eunwoo of astro

The flashing lights appeared before the car had even come to a full stop, and Jungkook was bored already. Sat fiddling with his styled outfit and brand-gifted jewelry, as he began to hear distant yells of his name, he wondered how soon he could leave the event. It wasn’t personal, just another tedious event.

“It’s good you decided to come here,” his manager, Do-yun, says beside him as if reading his thoughts. “It’s been a while since you made a public appearance, you’re contracted to show off your brand ambassadorship and promote the jewelry, and most of all, your album is coming up. This’ll be good.”

“Mhmm,” Jungkook murmurs, ready to disassociate for the next couple of hours while putting on his best smile. All he wanted at that moment was samgyeopsal, karaoke, and beers with Mingyu and Eunwoo… but duty calls. “Is Mingyu going to be here?”

“The PLEDIS team hasn’t answered my text,” Do-yun says. “You’re up.”

The van’s jet-black door slides open and Jungkook is almost immediately blinded by the lights of the cameras going off right in front of him. He’d forgotten just how bright they could be, but thankfully remembered his failsafe sensory-overload tactic: covering up his face with his hands. It was the only way Jungkook could cope, and for once, he thanked his youthful appearance and reputation for making him seem adorable above all else. He adjusts soon enough, as always, strutting down the carpet and showing off his charm, outfit, and accessories. He was able to pick up on one or two of the paparazzi and press’ requests, showing off a finger-heart pose and playfully touching his abs over his outfit, but in an instant, their loud voices fade, and time slows. He can’t hear anything. He can’t see anything… but the beautiful smile he's started to dream of, right behind the clear double doors of the event. Was that really….

“Jungkook!”

He hears that - a call right beside his ears coming from the familiar, booming voice of his own manager, now grabbing his elbow. “Snap out of it. You’re supposed to be in by now.”

Looking around, Jungkook realizes he’d been holding up a line, with a dozen other celebrities waiting for his moment to be over, while the paparazzi continued to cheer, capture, and fawn over him, eating up his ‘adorable spacing out moment.’

“I apologize!” Jungkook smiles, bowing to the celebrities beside him as well as the hundreds of photographers ahead of him, his heart racing as Do-yun and his security team lead him to the double doors. When they’re pulled open, his bubbling anticipation subsides, for rather than the heavenly hallucination he must've had, he sees Mingyu standing before him.

“Gyu!” Jungkook yelps, hugging his best friend, who greets him with the same enthusiasm. “Samgyeopsal and karaoke afterwards?”

“Please, sunbaenim,” Mingyu giggles quietly. “I’m bored out of my fucking mind. I’ve been here for an hour already.”

Unable to wait even a minute, Jungkook brings in both his manager and his best friend into a huddle. “Hey, am I dreaming, or was that _____ I saw in here?”

“She is here, simp,” Mingyu smiles, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively before sticking out his tongue between his teeth.

“Do-yun, you didn’t tell me she would be here tonight,” Jungkook says in a panic.

“I didn’t know. Seems she decided at the last minute, just like you did.”

“Soulmates,” Jungkook whispers under his breath, ignoring the two men rolling their eyes before him. “This is fate. We keep missing each other at these things…. I have to meet her.”

“I’ll make it happen, Kook-ah,” Mingyu smirks, expecting the light shove Jungkook gives him afterward. “For you, I promise. You know we don’t have the same taste in girls. Do-yun, do you know that I never even crushed on IU?”

“You fucking idiot - you know you’re the only idol who hasn’t, right?” Jungkook says. “Anyways, IU was a boyhood crush. This…. she… she’s even better.”

“Oh, shit. Do-yun-nim. This is serious. We need to do something.”

“I don’t know where your team is, Kim Mingyu, but I’m dragging the both of you to meet everyone you actually have to meet here. Then, sit in a corner and chat about pork or singalongs, or mingle with safe people. Men - or female staff only. You know the drill,” Do-yun says sternly. “Best to stay safe even though you don’t really have to worry about sneaky photos - security is tight, and they took all our phones. The only people with their phones are idols and brand ambassadors such as yourselves. Got it?”

The boys nod reluctantly. “Now we know why he keeps missing her at these things,” Mingyu scoffs, and at that, Do-yun quickly places a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder.

“I’ll make it happen, Jungkook-ssi.”

+

It’d been close to an hour since Do-yun scurried away and mere minutes since Mingyu silently left Jungkook to fend for himself and wish his other members had been invited. He was so used to being glued to his hyungs at the hip, and now he found himself scanning the crowded room for a familiar face.

“Jungkook!” Mingyu’s familiar voice boomed, and Jungkook finds his best friend farther than he’d expected, close to the other side of the room with a wide smirk on his face. Knowing his friend was just as menacing as he was sweet, Jungkook made his way there without any thoughts…

"For your own benefit, I took a page from your book and stopped waiting around for the company’s approval... You're my bad influence, so you are my first bad idea. Thank me or scold me later."

One can never be sure when it comes to Mingyu, so Jungkook nods and allows his friend to grab him by the hand…. silently leading him through the crowded room... to you.

"Do-yun-nim was taking too long. Found her much hotter friend first, and ta-da,” Mingyu quickly whispers into his ear.

In a moment of panic, Jungkook’s idol-wired brain took over, quickly scanning the room for any warning signs - untrustworthy staff or sketchy fellow idols, hidden cameras. It seemed… safe. It was just an innocent meeting, tucked away in a corner of the room… No biggie.

“BTS Jungkook…”

Jungkook couldn’t believe it. Your voice was as sweet as it was in your interviews… But you were far, far more beautiful in real life.

“____!” he cheers. “It’s really nice to meet you.”

“Me? Coming from BTS’ Jeon Jungkook, wah, I guess I’ve made it then.”

Holy shit, how do you blush so adorably?

“You have made it,” Jungkook says, “And with your own blood, sweat, and tears, too. It’s insanely admirable.”

“You flatter me too much. You paved the way! I hope to one day get to the level where I can quote my own songs too.”

“That… was unintentional,” Jungkook blushes, regretting his choice of words. “But your lyrics are… some of the most beautiful I’ve come across in all my years as an idol. Your latest single brought me to tears.”

“It’s true. It was embarrassing,” Mingyu confirms, ignoring Jungkook’s glare.

“Oh, no, that touches my heart. It makes me feel like an honest artist and a bit proud, actually - not that I made you cry! But that my experience translated into the song like that… I cried every second I worked on the song, actually.”

“Oh no. I hope you never cry a day in your life, _____,” Jungkook blurts. “Don’t get hurt, please.”

“Thank you, Jungkook,” you say with a heartwarming giggle. “I have to, though, don’t I? I’ll take care of my health, but I have to live. To live is to cry every now and then.”

“That’s true. Namjoon-hyung says that too - you know he’s the main songwriter in our group, right?”

“Of course.”

“Beautiful lyrics can only come from beautiful people.”

In a failed attempt to hide his scoff, Mingyu scurries off. “Simp," he quickly mutters under his breath. "I’ll go find your friend, ____.”

“Kim Mingyu, treat her well!” you call out with a ferocity that ignites another fire in Jungkook’s heart.

“Jungkook-ssi…. Maybe we can write together sometime?”

“I’m not really a writer,” Jungkook says, not knowing the reason why. A failed display of honesty, perhaps? He has written in the past, of course, for both his own discography as well as BTS’…. A surge of regret floods his system in a second.

“You’re a beautiful person, Jungkook, so by your logic, you must be able to write some beautiful lyrics as well.”

Stunned, Jungkook is unable to respond. Did you just call him beautiful?

“You really are as cute as they say… as cute as I imagined,” you smile. “What do you say?”

Jungkook nods, happily giving you his phone when you ask for it before typing in his number in yours.

“So I can call you?” Jungkook asks, brushing his hair away from his face.

“I hope you do.”

You turn your back, ready to make your way back into the event and probably find your friend, but the moment you’d turned your back, Jungkook realizes he hadn’t said enough.

“____?” It takes another moment for Jungkook to muster up the courage to go on once he sees your face again, so he spills out his words the moment they come to him. “I just want to tell you that I… I really respect you as an artist. I always have, and I always will. I can’t say the same for so many of our peers these days, unfortunately, so I felt like I needed to say that.”

“I...... I needed to hear that more than anything else, Jungkook-ssi... Thank you,” you say quietly.

“Thank you," you repeat in a whisper. “I’m also thanking whatever force or higher power made you say that just now.”

“I mean it myself, though,” Jungkook reiterates.

“I know, but it feels like fate that you’d told me that tonight. I’ll tell you the story one day - why I so badly needed to hear that tonight.”

Jungkook nods, exhaling in an effort to hide his astonishment as you walk away in a rush, hiding whatever emotion you were feeling too.

One day.

He’ll hold you - and fate - up to that.

[nocturnesmoon]

Chapter 1: The Wandering Fool

(Series Masterlist: Divine Violence) (Read on Ao3) (Inspired Playlist)

Series: The Divine Violence - Chapter 1: The Wandering Fool

Wordcount: 6.8k

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" MacTavish x Gn!Reader

TW: (View masterlist for series tw and tags) - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, Religious trauma, PTSD, Hallucinations, Paranoia, Anxiety, Disturbing Themes, let me know if i missed anything

Description: You ran from it all for a reason, it's easier to disappear when everyone thinks you're dead, but what happens when someone wants to bring you dangerously close to your past, the one you've been trying to run from for so long?

A/N: Trying to not panic over the fact i'm finally releasing this- Hope you enjoy it!!

[Next Chapter]

Through all your problems in life, your most prominent ones always seem to have a connection between the weather, and unnecessary questions. Since the dawn of time people have had this annoying notion of being very nosy.

There aren’t many places in the world you've been to where it's different. They can deny it all they want, it's all the same no matter where you go. Simultaneously the weather has never quite agreed with you. It makes your nonstop travel tedious, a draining task that often takes more time than you'd like it to.

Even here, with the amount of time it took you to get here in the first place because of the weather. It's an ironic turn when only a few days after your arrival, the sun turns the concrete into a fire from hell. A stark contrast to the storms and rain, that kept your flight delayed, again and again.

The heat makes you want to never leave that little flower shop, with the big fan in the corner. If it wasn't for the sharp floral smell, and the continuous buzzing of the thing, you could even have considered working here. It's not prone to traffic of many people, and those who are here are usually in a hurry, so they don't engage you in too much meaningless chatter, while you would work.

Unfortunately, you rarely have that luxury, every turn and twist in your day-to-day life, threatening you with the underlying feeling of being caught, of being known.

A loud sound erupts from the back, when the old man drops a pair of scissors. Children squeal outside the shop, as soon as the ball goes into the hoop placed above the window. It's a disaster waiting to happen. However, it kept the children happy and busy, in the early hours of the morning, when there was nothing to do yet, and the heat wasn't high enough to spoil their activity.

The quiet sound of snips continues soon after, the man continuously giving you odd looks from your request. You don't pay it any mind. Your hands nervously clutch at your wallet, the ache in your knuckles barely noticeable anymore.

One of the kids outside pick up the ball again, launching it at the hoop but missing by an inch. The ball bounces back, and you realize it before you see it. The silence between the kids is almost comical, the squealing and happy yelling gone within an instant.

A little streak of crimson runs down from the kid's cheek, the bruise already forming with unnatural colors. The other kids flock around them, fuzzing about with caring tones and careful touches. One of the older ones finds a rag to gently dab away the blood.

You wonder if it would still be warm to the touch, metallic in taste, an awful sign of life.

The kid's eyes keep staring ahead, through the window. You could pretend that they're looking at the pretty flowers, but you hold their eye contact with purpose. They look defeated in their shock, too big of a reaction for a little accident in your flawed opinion.

You could've stopped them, prevented it before it happened, they wouldn't have gotten hurt.

They continue to stare you down, a frown settled on their lips. Do they really think that you could've stopped them. The kids would've laughed at you at best. The eyes multiply tenfold when the other kids notice the injured one's staring. You keep it up, not backing down despite the uncomfortable feeling of too much attention on you. You've been too exposed today.

You've had eyes in the back of your neck ever since you left your room this morning. Not the usual way either, this time it's been from an unknown source.

You don't miss the man leaned up against the wall to a clothing boutique. His hood raised up, his lips moving to speak every now and then. He's doing a good job at pretending to watch the kids have fun and play.

The old man clears his throat. He's already arranged the flowers beautifully, they now rest on the counter, waiting for you to pay up.

You put down your payment in coins, ignore his grumbling in favor of grabbing the flowers and getting out of there in a hurry.

The café has been your only place of respite. A quaint little space you found when you first came to this place. It sits open to the streets, while still managing to feel packed away. Behind those old curtains, and dainty accessories adorning yellowish walls, is the best coffee you've had in years.

Ding

A pleasant little sound fills your ears every time you open the door, and step down in the lowlight place. As much as you liked it, every time you were here, you'd be fighting your instincts to make the sound again and again and again. Your own mental oblivion urging you forward.

Coffee is already placed on your table. Steam rising from the little blue cup, the one with a chipped side, unofficially assigned to you. The little corner is always free when you come in. There was always the question of whether the little spot was unpopular, or if there were other external factors for its lack of use.

It was hard to tell, by the already general lack of customers and patrons, but the little seat was always there for you.

Confined in your own little corner, you would spend the mornings of the past month sipping coffee, and looking like you belonged in a prison cell. With the amount of paranoia your posture exuded, it's impossible to not think you had something going on.

Luck has a tendency not to follow you in places like these, so you refrain from interacting too much with anything. It leaves you looking a bit like a social reject, but you comfort yourself in the knowledge that in a month, none of these people will see your face again.

At least people don't ask questions here.

You walk over to the counter and place the bouquet of spider lilies down next to the registry. Being careful not to disturb the beautiful order the nice old man had put them in. Your eyes linger for but a moment.

A meek old woman owns the place. Elena. She took a quick liking to you the first you arrived here a few weeks ago. She seemed to understand you in an underlying way, she never asked you the hard questions, she accepted your secrecy in a way only a mother who's seen the worst can do. It freaks you out.

You still feel bad about lying to her.

Had she been someone else, you might've been more inclined. To let the woman know who -what- you really are, would only put her in more harm’s way than necessary. That would even be before she could get a chance to hate you, for the things you've done to stay alive.

The wood protests when you settle into the chair. You pull back on the urge to wiggle in it. The old woman was nowhere to be seen, but the little rustle of pots and pans in the back gave you clear indication of where she is. There's always the fresh smell of newly baked pastries in the mornings, just before everyone wakes up for their daily hustles.

Not many people would come this early, making it a regular occurrence for you to spend that time here. Little hole in the wall only really served the continuing patrons, most others took to the more populated places.

A flash of light shines through the thin curtains, illuminating the dust swirling around in the air, as well as the colorful pillows carefully placed in each chair. They felt out of place to everything else in here. Newer. You quickly learnt a lot of things about the mentality of the people living here, you had to if you intended to blend in inconspicuously. Something you found out the hard way, was that the old woman tended to take things personally.

It didn't matter how much you meant it positively, negatively, no meaning at all. One little comment a faint evening, and the next day the pillows were all replaced.

You squint your eyes from the raging orange and put your focus back on the coffee. It's no longer steaming as much as before. You hadn't originally picked this place because it would provide you cover. In all fairness, if the place wasn't as cozy on the inside, it would likely be shady enough to be conspicuous, from the odd looking outside alone.

Yet still, it serves as your little paradise.

You find your brain goes quiet when you're in here. You can sip your coffee in peace, unaware of the shadows creeping in the corners of your eyes. It's numbing. Your little respite away from the danger outside, the danger within, and with Elena's nurturing soul, it makes you not want to leave.

Ding

Unfortunately, fate has a funny little tendency to give you the middle finger. It has never been on your side, and you doubt it is ever going to be.

Your little paradise is about to be invaded. With lingering smells of gunpowder, and blood so thick it will stain your soul. Patches of blonde and black hair, one making its way to your corner, and the other stationary at the door.

You take a sip of your coffee. It tastes wrong.

The blonde woman pulls out the chair opposite of you. She takes a moment to get comfortable before leaning in, her arms neatly folded on the table. She's playing on your domesticity, your familiarity, you know her too well to expect anything else. You don't doubt if you were look up, you'll see those blue eyes full of desperation, ready to ask you to move heaven and hell for her.

She's a few years too late.

Much to your surprise she keeps quiet when you take another sip. How kind of her. It doesn't last long. As soon as you put the chipped cup down, and acknowledge her, she opens her mouth to speak.

"No" you intercept her.

She closes her mouth, opens it, closes it. "You haven't even heard what I have to say," a small smile plays on her lips. It seems innocent enough. You know her better. She has blood on her hands, the same way you have blood on your teeth.

"The answer is no."

"I wouldn't come to you if it wasn't serious," her folded hands tighten, "You know that." She's honorable, as far as you know, but you're not ready to get back into your harness, so she can pull on your collar.

The next sip burns your tongue. You bite down on it, choke the yelp deep down in your throat. "Laswell..." you speak her name with urgency. The quicker you can shut her up and get her to leave, the quicker you can get back to making your plan to move.

"I need you to just hear me out alright?" she pauses, "it's in your best interest."

She's not letting you leave this place unless you agree.

Your eyes dart over to the man standing at the entrance. There's more than one way to get out of here, the one he is blocking is the least convenient. But you suppose you do owe it to Laswell to hear her out.

If you narrow it all down to the dirt and bones, she is the only reason why you're sitting in this café alive, while remaining dead to the world.

Your would-be grave is far from here. Dug and scraped with your own charred hands and broken nails.

Crack crack, bury the sin beneath blood and bone.

You can still hear it when you unfocus your brain, they won't let you forget.

"It's him, he's back" the words soil your throat, and they didn't even come from your own lips. "He's brought his group back along with him, and they're causing a bigger disturbance," It's sickening that she's even bringing this up.

She continues despite your grimace, "I would have pulled out every other resource I could before coming here, but you're the only person I can rely on to see this through."

She wants you to go back.

Go back, Go back, Go back.

"You're the only one I know that has both skill and cause."

Your eyebrow twitches, and you bite down on your tongue to not retaliate. You can taste the metal before you relent. The last thing you want to do is cause a scene in here.

The old woman doesn't deserve this.

"I understand your apprehension to this, but you know how important it is that we put a stop to him, you should want this more than anyone else."

The chair screeches as you push yourself to your feet. Your palms connect with the table, and it in turn rattles. The man who was standing stationary at the door breaks form. He reaches behind him, and let's his hand settle on something.

Not that you thought she would come here unarmed.

Laswell calls your name, bringing your attention back to her. She's a lot calmer than her jumpy backup. "It's just a talk, nothing more for now," it's all lies is what is.

"Bring attack dogs to all your family meetings?" you don't settle back into the chair. You were done with this place the moment Laswell and her soldier set foot in it.

She spares a single glance back at her friend, something reassuring in her face, it makes him ease back up to form. "Fine, there's no going around it with you," she wants it to all be lighthearted, to ease you in, you won't fall for it again.

"I am cashing in the favor, you'll be properly paid of course, and you can settle a score, does it really sound that bad?"

"Yes."

You stare into her blue eyes. She smells faintly of smoke. Her eyes won't leave you, but you see the contemplation in them, the searching of your figure. She's looking for the right bait, looking for the best way to sink her hooks into your ribs and drag you along.

"I don't want to have to do this to you..." her voice is quieter. It almost surprises you, but you know what she's talking about. She's in a bind herself.

She's not going to wait forever for you to say yes, and she needs you. On paper you are the perfect candidate for whatever she has planned. Though you doubt your mental profile lives up to the required standards. Certain things can be overlooked in desperation, you suppose.

"I'll hear you out," you start "somewhere else." The determination in her eyes border hope. It's pitiful that she thinks you'll have so much influence on her mission. You're really not all that.

You have the basic training, but also enough history to disqualify you, from any position within the military ever again. Laswell let's out a sigh of relief. Was she really that worried?

"Everything alright petal?" your eyes snap to Elena, a pot of something steaming in her hands that she places on the counter.

Laswell's backup twitches, seemingly surprised that the place wasn't as empty as he thought it was. You give the old woman a curt nod. It's enough to make her go about her day as normal, and you silently thank God that she isn't one to question.

"Always pick the jumpy attack dogs?"

Laswell stands up, breathing in harshly. If she doesn't like your resistance, she can pick someone else. "The squad is still weary from the last op." She explains.

You nod quietly in response. At least that's one thing you can sympathize with.

"Come, I'm not going to wait around for you to change your mind."

You hope Elena likes the flowers.

You feel like an idiot. Not even an hour out of the town you resided in, is an off the map military base. You are disgusted, appalled, shocked, disappointed. Every word in the book they could find.

You had prided yourself in being able to outrun anything. When Laswell helped you fake your own death, it was even easier. The amount of preparation you had to do when moving from place to place, was to put it mildly, extensive.

Somehow you completely missed this place.

It has your head reeling. Not even the rumbling of the car, or the passing outside, is enough to distract you. You catch Laswell eyes in the rearview mirror. She was first to get behind the wheel, which is a...choice.

Allowing out a soft sigh, you let your head rest against the window. The base is out past the middle of nowhere. You'd go crazy if you had to count all the corn fields you've passed by now.

Oh look...a cow.

"Nervous?"

The man next to you startles you out of your thoughts. You spare him a glance, not allowing yourself to linger too long at a time. He's casually dressed, his weapons hidden cleverly beneath layers of clothing.

If you remember right, Laswell called him Gaz. Odd nickname but not like you can judge, you've been called way worse.

He's got a good build, even with the blue hoodie you can see how his muscles fill it out. You don't doubt he could deck you fast if he wanted to. There'd be very little you could do about it, so out of form as you are. Occupied with everything else and staying out of sight, you haven't much time to keep yourself excessively fit.

Laswell picks her attack dogs well.

How sweet the sound of his bones breaking beneath your boot would sound.

You shake your head, grimacing at the thought. The little cracks that fill your ears are deafening.

"Don' worry, Cap's nice enough"

You don't doubt it, you just can't find it in yourself to care. Promises can so easily be broken; at the end of the day everyone wants something. That something has a tendency of putting you in danger, so you're not particularly excited.

"Gaz..." Laswell looks through the rearview mirror, making brief eye contact with the sergeant. Does she really think you that unhinged to not handle a simple conversation. A bit insulting.

"What...jus' making conversation," Gaz mumbles and turns his head to the side, subsequently joining you in looking out at the passing cows.

How much would she even tell Gaz about you. He couldn't know much, over half the things you're included in would be classified, and he's but a sergeant. His standoffish stance in the café was likely just to assess the danger, but the switch up is kind of freaking you out.

He seems nice enough overall, but you can't decide whether or not you actually want him to be. In a way it would be easier if he wasn't. You're not here to cultivate new friendships, you're here because you don't have another choice.

Whatever conversation he tries to make, dies out for the rest of the ride.

As soon as the car is put in park, Gaz jumps out. Gone within a blink of an eye, which you came to expect. The rest of the way was spent in awkward silence, and as much as you'd rather have silence, it was bad even for your taste.

Laswell takes it upon herself to lead you through the base. It's hard to ignore the looks and glares you get. You're an unknown variable, and without Laswell, you likely seem like an outright danger. It's a bit uncanny, to think that you once stood on their side, shoulder to shoulder with a sibling made of war.

She doesn't talk to you as you walk through base. You rely on your prior knowledge of the layout of UK military bases, to know where your exits would be. She parts with you in front of the "captains" office, a small throwaway promise to come get you once she has talked to him.

You don't question it, but it does make you raise a brow. Has she even told the captain you'd be coming? He would be the one supervising you when Laswell wouldn't be there, it's a pretty big thing to leave him in the dark about.

As soon as she closes the door, you let out a frustrated gust of air. This was already turning more complicated than you wanted it to be. Why didn't you resist a bit more, protest a bit more, you didn't even negotiate better terms with her. The shock alone, of seeing her again so soon after everything, rendered you unable to think logically.

At least the hallway is relatively empty.

Shadows start to creep in the corner of your vision. Thousands of little things hide there, occupying the otherwise empty space around.

You read the inscription on the door; Captain John Price.

The captain wasn't completely unknown to you. Though it all stems from rumors you heard, when you were a recruit. A few of your teammates had spoken about him in quiet whispers. Back then he didn't have the rank of Captain yet, nor a whole taskforce to command. He's come a long way.

Could they be similar?

No.

No one else could be like that, not that far. Especially not an old Idol, that would just be cruel.

"Kate you can't be serious...have you seen their file."

You perk up when you hear the slightly raised voices from inside. They're talking about you. You tilt your head closer. A grumbled brass voice sounds out, it reminds you of that of a dragon, most likely one belonging to the captain. You try to put a face to the name, but you can't remember any of the old pictures you saw. Every vivid image in your mind is distortedly different.

"You asked me to find extra help, this is it."

You'd laugh in her face if she was out here. There are much more qualified people than you, even with dealing with a group such as this.

"You could read one line in this and know they should not be handling a gun; much less be sent out in possible high-pressure situations."

You nod along for no one to see. You've done this song and dance trying to get reenlisted, twice before. More for the protection aspects than anything else. It would’ve been a lot easier getting your hands on weapons that way, instead of the unconventional way you've resorted to in your time away.

You did give yourself a bit of credit. Despite everything you had fared quite well for yourself, without Laswell's extended help. It came with strings, so you had turned it down.

At least you weren't dead in a ditch somewhere, which to be quite fair, you wouldn't put it past you for it to happen.

"John..."

"Kate..."

You start to wonder if Price would look like a dragon in human form. He already has the voice to match. Maybe he has a fiery beard, a tone that commands the respect of thousands. Would he hoard his possessions, to a disturbing extent?

The door scrapes against the floor when its opened. The sound makes you want to tear your ears off.

"Come on in" Kate waves you inside, making sure to close the door behind you. His office is simplistic, no personal touches around, only the standard issued items rest on his desk. From what you remember, he's used to moving from place to place often, it's likely that this office won't be his anymore by the end of the week.

"This is Captain John Price" She introduces you, and you offer him a nod of hopefully mutual respect. It's not reciprocated.

At first glance you notice two things about the captain.

One.

He stands tall. You don't doubt no matter how many meters you have in you, the man has ways of making you feel small.

He has a beard, beautiful eyes too, when you find it in you to look past the serious expression. It tells you all you need to know about him. At least he's not incompetent, he knows you shouldn't be here. Anyone would know after a single glance at you, even if Kate seems to think otherwise.

And two.

Price doesn't look like a dragon.

You don't know why it disappoints you. You knew very well he would not, and still, you find your heart sinking just little at his dismissive look.

It's a fantasy.

You stopped dreaming years ago; you have no intention of starting the childish notion again. You see enough things that weren't real, why add to it.

Price let's out a long sigh. His frustration with you is clear, but Laswell is steadfast in her opinion, no matter the resistance she wants you in this. The look she's sending his way, does as much as a firm set of words would. He folds his arms over his chest, looking back at her with as much determination as she is.

The quiet is...intruding.

You feel like you're witnessing something that you shouldn't be. The type of conversations, that your boss would have about you in private, to decide what to do with your behavior. You feel a need to say something, to break the silence and remind the two in the middle of a staring contest, that you're still here.

"Fine" Price concedes reluctantly, "but if there is anything-"

"There won't be any problems," she assures him "right?"

You freeze up the moment she refers to you. What were you supposed to say to that. You didn't want to be here, it was only out of obligation to her, to pay the blood debt you owe her.

You shrug your shoulders, finding a spot in the floor to stare at. The stain morphs and changes, subtly getting bigger and smaller, wider, and thinner all at once. It bleeds into the tile. You try to place a shape to it, but it changes too fast for you to decide on anything.

"Right then," Price moves over to his desk and pulls out a folder of multiple files. "You're going to want to know who you're going to work with," he slams the folder down on the wooden table. It creeks. You fight back a flinch.

"Kate has promised me you're going to be able to help," he doesn't sound convinced, "we'll see what you can do."

Laswell gives Price another glare. It would be comforting -her protectiveness- if it wasn't shrouded in obligation. It's laughable how much she believes you can solve her problem.

"You'll be accompanying the 141 in this, they've been working on this for the past month." Laswell chimes in as Price gets out the files of each respective member.

"I thought you needed my help immediately."

"I told you I was going to pull out all other resources before bringing you back into this." There's something pitying in her eyes, it makes you feel sick.

You were always going to be in this. No matter how much you hated it. It has been a part of so much of your life, there's nothing you can do to peel it off your skin. Lord knows you've tried to.

"Yes...We've been gathering as much information as we can on the group," Price leans his hip against the table. "We haven't found much, like the last time they were around, their efforts are very secretive, but we know where they're grouping. We have received reports, threats, missing persons rapports, all the signs the same group gave a few years ago, it seems very possible they have the same leader as well."

"The Divine Principle" you dig your nails into your palms. Your eyes catch the captains, now suddenly more attentive of you.

"You-"

"That's what they call themselves. I've hunted them before; I thought Laswell said." You don't bother looking towards the woman on your left, this is between you and the captain. He didn't seem to be quite convinced of your knowledge or skills. You didn't blame the man. You couldn't prove your skills worthy just yet, so your knowledge had to suffice.

You don't know why you suddenly feel the need to prove it to him, but there's something about his presence that makes you want him to like you. It's a rare feeling, the last time you felt like this you-

"She did, but she did not explain much about you, other than what's available in your file."

"I know enough to know they aren't good people," you switch up your stance, mimicking the way he was standing when you first came in. Your attention catches on the files again. You wonder who they could be, what their skills would include, if they would collide with your own.

You weren't used to working in groups like this, it was going to be different.

"Then you also know how important this mission is, they've done irreparable damage in the past, we can't have it happen again."

Price pushes one file towards you, holding the other three files in his grasp. "Gaz, who you already met as I understand it." You nod, thinking back to the man. Part of you had expected to meet him again, you should've realized he likely already was in the taskforce if he was accompanying Laswell.

"There's Soap, he'll be enthusiastic having a new member on the team I'll assure you that." Price places his file for you to see, giving you a moment before moving on. John MacTavish, Scottish by the looks of it, and an interesting hair choice of a mohawk. You're almost surprised they let him keep it.

"Lastly Ghost, and myself" he puts down the last file. It has no attached picture, but that isn't what initially grabs your attention as out of place as it is. What settles deep in your bones, is his name.

Simon Riley

Simon.

That Simon.

Your brow furrows as you read his name over and over and over again, gradually wishing he had a picture so you could confirm it for yourself. You hadn't seen or heard the name in years, not since you left Manchester. Was there really a chance it could be him.

"There's no picture," you pick up his file, as if reading his name closer would bring clarity to your adding questions.

"Never is," Price observes your hesitance the way you give Ghost's file more attention than the rest, "Do you know each other?"

"Might, it was a long time ago though, I doubt he'd even remember me."

He observes you for what feels like forever, trying to look past your carefully crafted mask, to gouge out the state of the relationship. "Well, it'd be good to have some familiarity on the team," he shrugs "can make the transition easier for you."

Yeah, if he doesn't despise you still.

You don't feel the need to tell the captain of your possibly declined relationship with the man. There's still a chance it's not him. You don't know why you're trying to fool yourself that it's not. You knew even back then that he wanted to join the military, that it had been all he ever wanted.

He's a lieutenant now. Despite everything you can't help but feel a little proud of him for making it this far, even if it's tinged with sadness.

"Will it be a problem?" Laswell brings your attention to her. Her voice layered with a sense of supposed knowledge that she is not supposed to have. It's hard to not get a little irritated, at this point you have no idea how much information the woman has in her skull. Information that you'd love nothing more than to erase from her memory.

"No, it will not" she isn't expecting any other answer. It's not like she's suddenly going to let you go if you do. Worst case scenario she restricts your workspace to avoid a conflict, and if she so desperately wants you to do this job, then you need your space.

"Make it quick, yeah?"

Gaz comes to a stop in front of the door to your little motel room. He makes a quick glance down each side of the hall. Deeming it clear, he leans back against the yellow tinted walls. Too bad he can't see the shadows breathing down his neck.

Though you'd never experienced anything shady or violent, you knew there was a rising criminal activity in the motel. You just never really spent enough time here to witness any of it.

"Yeah yeah," you grimace fumbling with your keys. You really should get rid of some of them, most of them didn't have a purpose anymore. Though like with most things, you had a hard time letting go.

The inside of your the little room you rented is exactly as you left it. Dresser door broken and splintered, curtains half closed, shadows looming in every corner and crevice.

Home sweet home, or something to that effect.

It's not a lot, but you don't complain, you've certainly lived with worse. Not staying in one spot for more than a month at a time didn't leave many options for work, so you had made do.

As much as you trusted Laswell's skills, and her promises, you had your own wariness to battle against. This way was the only one that actually made you feel like you had an advantage, against those that meant you harm.

The duffel bag with most of your belongings, had been hastily shoved into the dresser the morning prior. You find it uninterrupted in the same place, as expected. You glance towards the window and mark your possible exit. Should the man outside turn for whatever reason, the window would be loose, and you could break through the rusted glass frames.

For now, though, you had to trust that this taskforce you were to temporarily join, didn't actually want you dead. Yet.

Your variables are changing, and fast. There isn't a bigger part of you that enjoys this, and meeting up with Simon again could only prove trouble. He probably still held some resentment towards you, there's only the small hope that he keeps things professional.

You look down into your bag, rummaging around in the sealed pocket to locate your pile of papers. Years old and stained letters, some answered, some not. It was your only means of communication for a time, until it all stopped. You don't think he ever found out why, he would've contacted you if he did right? Or maybe he had decided then and there you weren't worth his energy.

Pushing the thoughts aside proved a much harder task than normal. You had gotten used to putting all into a tightly sealed box in your brain, but now that you knew for certain it would all come flooding out, it proved it harder to contain overall.

There isn't much to collect from the room itself, most of your things were already packed and ready for an easy go. You pick up an extra set of shoes and stuff them in before venturing to the bathroom.

You had to give it to this place, they had some of the most uncomfortable bathrooms you'd had the pleasure of occupying. The mirror is stained and dirty, the tile an ugly brown color, and not even to talk about the toilet itself, or the odd smell. Though the latter could be explained by you and your own ministrations.

Your eyes land on the cross tossed into the tub. Little thing on a chain, the same one you had worn for years at a time. Dried blood still gives it that discoloration.

Your knees click when you reach down and place it in the cup of your hand. To think that this little thing carries so much of you. It has seen it all, witnessed your greatest heights making you feel light as a feather, and watched all your sins unfold, burning like hellfire against your chest.

You've never hated a thing more.

Slipping it around your neck is a thoughtless process. The muscle memory in your fingers do the work for you, securing the chain on the back of your neck, like reattaching a leash.

You stand up straight and walk to the sink. Your toothbrush has fallen, it's green hue so faded it's turning white in some areas. You really should just get a new one.

Your reflection catches in the mirror, and you make the mistake of not looking away. Your face turns to a blob of colors and bleeding effects. There's nothing to tell and nothing to see. Your eyes cave in, your nose splitting apart, your ears fuse with your hair and your fingers are too long dragging off your skin.

You barely recognize yourself anymore. You know it's in there, begging to come out, but it'll only come worse than before if you let it.

It all morphs together. A thousand different shadows standing behind you, their long digits running over your arms and shoulders, beckoning you forward. They lean into your ears, fester in your brain, in your eyesight. The shadows in the corners are always the worst in front of mirrors.

It's your fault. You know what you did. You know that they would've still been alive if you hadn't done it. Why are you still here. Why do you think you can hide? You always go back, it's your place, it's ingrained on your skin.

There's never been an out for people like you.

You grab your toothbrush and exit the bathroom.

"You really been livin' in here?"

You clasp a hand over your mouth, masking the shriek you would've let out. You thought he was going to stay outside.

Gaz looks into mirror hanging next to the dresser with the broken door. He inspects his reflection, rubbing a thumb over a smudge of dirt on his neck.

"It was a temporary solution," you tell him as soon as you get your spiraling mind under control. You walk over to the duffel bag on the bed, throwing in the rest of your dwindling belongings.

You can feel his eyes on you, likely judging you. At least he has the decency to keep his mouth shut. You couldn't afford nicer in your current situation, and moving as frequently as you were, this was the least costly option.

"For how long?"

He walks over to the bed, glancing into your bag once before continuing his move around your room. You didn't truly know the answer to that question yourself.

Very long, too long, as long as you can hide like a coward.

"As long as necessary," you answer him while zipping up your duffel bag. It slings around your shoulder, fits neatly against your back. It's a familiar lightweight. Perhaps it wouldn't be that bad, you were planning your move anyway.

He gives you a curious look, waiting for you to elaborate. You don't. His shoulders sag a bit when he seems to realize. "Hurry it up," he says and walks to the door, "don't got all day, we have a plane to catch."

He leaves you alone in the hollowing room. It turns a shade darker when the sun shifts outside the window. The shadows consume more of the room. Millions of little eyes watching you in secret.

You walk over to the wall and kneel. It feels wrong to do. There's so many little dents and scrapes hammered into it, the pattern of the wall hiding the little room perfectly. You bang on it once and quietly. Moving the cutout piece out of place, you reach inside to find the gun.

You check it, still fully loaded, and put it down amongst what little clothes you have. It's only for necessity of course, nothing vicious yet.

Come come come.

Your head tilts towards the window, the curtains managing to flow ever so slightly. They bleed into the background, the murky watery color splitting with the patterns on the walls, and the greenery outside.

All of it dark and gloomy. Threatening.

Your legs carry you there. The sun has disappeared behind a set of clouds, leaving dark promises of rain and thunder. The whispers are always the loudest when you're alone. They're not always saying anything. Sometimes they're shaming you, reminding you, other times it's incessant noise.

Occasionally they take shape. Shadow figures with creepy smiles, wide bloodshot eyes. It hides down in the forest behind the motel, to watch you through the window to your room. It's crooked grin bleeds and oozes. You forcefully blink a few times, trying to will it away, but you know it won't disappear until you get distracted, or it wants to go.

You don't hear it; it merely mouths it to you.

He'll find you.

And the scariest part is, you know it's right.

There's never been anywhere you could hide.

Likes, Reblogs and comments are always appreciated, love ya! <3

[gabessquishytum]

For all the trans headcanons and au's I've seen, I don't think I've ever seen anyone talking about trans!Hob getting bottom surgery, so here I am to fix this

Hob was rather lucky in that it wasn't too difficult for him to pass, he was rather tall for when he was born (in the modern age he'd be considered average leaning short though). He was strong and made sure that no one ever questioned his gender, if they did, Hob would make sure that they'd regret it.

Hob was one of the first trans men to start T, obviously since he was immortal he was just like "what's the worst that can happen" maybe there was some trial and error involved in getting to a decent level of T, but eventually he manages to get his body to a point where he's happier with it than he had ever been.

Now he has wanted bottom surgery for a while, but he also did not want to go through with having to stay at a hospital. Just the odds of his immortality being discovered was just too high for him to take the risk. He had already been drowned once, and he's certain that the result of his secret being found out would only be worse in the modern age.

But then Morpheus escapes. He comes back and admits he's Hob's friend. He introduces himself to Hob as Morpheus and agrees to meet with Hob on a more regular basis. The more they meet up, the more Hob is falling for Morpheus. Eventually Hob decides to come out to Morpheus as trans, to which Morpheus blinks at him and is like "I know?"

Hob: You knew? Since when? How?

Morpheus: I thought it was well established that I know most things about most people

Hob: Okay... fair. So you see me as a man?

Morpheus: You have always been a man in your dreams

Hob, almost crying now because most of his life he's had to hide this fact about himself for his own safety and even when he doesn't have to hide, it always felt like that most people would question his identity: So you've always known? And you've never once questioned that I'm a man?

Morpheus: What was there to question? Dreams are just as real as the waking world, often they are more truthful than the waking world. You are a man in your dreams, why should I, who am all dreams. question that

Hob stares at Morpheus in a stunned silence for a few moments before he gives into the temptation to give him the biggest hug he's capable of.

Morpheus was not expecting that reaction, but it wasn't unwelcome, so he returns the hug as best he can, it's a bit awkward because Morpheus isn't used to physical contact, but he's doing his best to comfort his friend.

Morpheus: Did... did I say something wrong?

Hob with tears in his eyes: I love you

Maybe Morpheus freaks out after that, but somehow they get their shit together and start dating.

At some point Hob mentions that he really wants bottom surgery, but that he really doesn't want his immortality to be discovered and hospitals always make him really nervous. So Morpheus, probably after a dream in which Hob experiences all the joys of having a dick and gets to top without using a strap, promises that if Hob wants to go through with bottom surgery, that he'll be there every step of the way and make sure that his immortality is not discovered.

So immediately upon waking, Hob schedules an appointment with a doctor.

As promised, Morpheus is there with him through every tedious doctors appointment and through his boring and painful stay at the hospital after his operation is over. Luckily for Hob, since he's immortal, he heals much quicker than would be average, but he still needs help with lots of things in the weeks after his surgery. So Morpheus is there to make sure he eats and to help him with everything (Dream's siblings are watching in shock as Morpheus is happily waiting on Hob hand and foot and helping him in every way he can in his own quiet way, they've never seen him like this)(Desire has bets on how long this relationship will last, Death has cast her bet that this relationship will last much longer than any of his previous ones.)

Eventually they get to have sex in the waking world again. Morpheus gets to help Hob figure out what he likes again now that he has a dick. Hob is immensely pleased with the fact that he can now top without having to use a strap. Morpheus just loves watching Hob rediscover what he likes now that his body more accurately reflects himself.

Anyway, I just want to see more trans people who want bottom surgery in fics, I almost never see that and it's really a shame

is 🪐taken?

This is such a lovely little ficlet, thank you 🪐!! I always love it when Hob comes out the Dream in fics, and Dream always responds with such kindness. I firmly believe that Dream would always see Hob as a man from the very beginning, and would just innately be able to view him as he dreams/imagines/fantasises himself to be. In a way its more natural for Dream to look at Hob like that, than it is to see his physical "real" form.

I also love Hob’s phobia of hospitals here. It's natural for him to fear them as an immortal, but I think there's also subtext here about being queer (trans in particular) and dealing with medical situations. There's a really sweet allegory within Hob being initially too fearful to go and have the procedure but then being able to do it with Dream’s support. It's not just that Dream can keep the secret of his immortality safe, he will also protect and advocate for Hob while he's vulnerable. I'm very soft about that.

And of course Hob getting to have a dick is wonderful and delicious and it's so perfect that Dream is the one who gets to teach him how to use it. It's Hob’s favourite step in their journey together so far, and although he plans to be with Dream for thousands of years, he's sure that he'll always remember the moment in which he got to sheath himself in his lover for the first time. He can't wait to practise every day until he knows exactly what they both like best, and exactly how to make Dream come apart on his cock.

It's just the best thing in the world to wake up from a dream and know that his dick is still there - and he'll never stop thanking Dream, for making it all real.

[blue-slxt]

Smart Mouth

*Request: If you are still taking requests, here's one! Reader is Ao'nung's meaner twin sister, maybe she's known for being an amazing warrior and hunter. But Lo'ak knows it's a front, because with him you aren't like that, he knows how submissive you truly are, especially when he has you under him.*

I have no clue how this turned out this long lmao I kinda just rolled with it. But I love this kind of trope. So I hope you enjoy this one. All characters are aged up.

🔞Minors Do Not Interact🔞

Smut under the cut

The talk amongst the clan about you seems to never cease. For one reason or another, your name was always on the tongues of other people. Many praised your strength. Able to stare down some of the most feared creatures in the wild without so much as blinking. You never backed down from a fight. In some respects, that was admirable. But it hurt the egos of the males in your clan when you would best them in a sparring match. Swinging them and tossing them to the ground with ease and grace.

This led to the talk amongst the people about how difficult it would be for you to find a mate. What kind of man wants a woman who could and would best him? Some looked down on you for it. Others had pity on you feeling that your beauty and status as the daughter of the chief was going to waste. As far as you were concerned, there were plenty of fine men your age in the clan that were plenty strong, but they simply lacked the nerve it took to break your spirit. If someone stepped up to the challenge, you would be more than willing to give him a chance, but no one ever did.

“I mean seriously, am I really so scary?” you would ask exasperated and frustrated beyond belief.

“Of course, you are.” Ao’nung would say without missing a beat while sharpening his knife next to you.

He flinches when your quickly smack him upside the head. Most of the time, the two of you were perfectly in sync, but on occasion, he could annoy you like no other. The pros and cons of being twins.

…

At dinner, your parents force you and your siblings to sit with the Sully kids in an effort to make you all get along. This had carried on for weeks now. Progress was slow going, but it was there, nonetheless. Tsireya took an instant liking to them which was perfectly in line with her personality. She could find the joy and love in any situation. You and Ao’nung were more reserved, though. Always have been. Seeking comfort in each other rather than connections with other people. But over time, the two of you would join in the conversation from time to time.

The Sully kids weren’t necessarily bad, but they weren’t made for reef life and trying to teach them your ways was tedious and irritating. The one who got on your nerves the worst? Lo’ak. He was the only one that gave you trouble with a never-ending string of back talk. He knew how to grind your gears and he did it all with the biggest shit-eating grin on his face.

“Your diving has gotten better lately.” Tsireya beams at them. But you scoff and roll your eyes.

“Do not lie to them Reya. Your forms are still sloppy. It is a wonder how one of you has not been washed away by the current yet.”

She bumps your shoulder and you just shrug as you were simply stating a fact.

“What? It is true. If it weren’t for us being there and keeping an eye on all of them, they wouldn’t last 2 seconds out there.” You say the last part while looking directly at Lo’ak. The rest of his siblings look annoyed or dejected, but he just turns his nose up at you with that same damn grin. “Is that really what you think?”

You narrow your eyes at him in a silent challenge, but he just cocks his eyebrow at you. You stand from your spot, “Whatever, I’m over this conversation. I’m going for a walk.”

Ao’nung and Tsireya give each other a questioning look watching you leave. It was unlike you. Normally, you never shut up in an argument. What was different about tonight?

You’re about 10 minutes into your walk on the beach when you stop to lean against a large rock on the shore. You just stand there and listen to the waves crashing against the sand.

“You do not seem to be doing much walking to me.”

There’s that voice. “What do you want, Lo’ak?”

“Well, as far as everybody else knows, I came to check on you and make sure you’re okay.” He saunters over towards you until his chest just barely brushes against yours when you breathe.

“So why are you actually here?” annoyance laced your voice and he just laughs lowly to himself.

Suddenly, his hand finds your jaw holding it firm and making you look up at him. “Because, clearly, we need to do something about this smart-ass mouth of yours.”

You do your best to hold his gaze, but it gets hard to focus with the heat pooling in your body. “If you wanted my attention, all you had to do was say so.” He speaks while pressing his body closer to you and essentially trapping you between him and the boulder. “Or maybe you want more than just my attention?”

You want to squeeze your thighs together to relieve some of the building pressure, but his body is too close. Your body squirms under him, but it just makes him hold you tighter. “Say it, tíyawn.” His fingertips tease at the strings on your hips holding up your loincloth. Your body is growing hungry and desperate.

“I want it.”

His hands hold your hips and turn you around to face the rock. One hand massages and gropes at your breasts while the other dips under the front of your loincloth and teasingly flicks at your clit.

“I don’t know. I’m not really convinced yet.”

“Lo’ak…” his name leaves your mouth more as a whine than a warning.

“Use your words, baby. You had so much to say earlier.” His fingers rub light circles around your clit without any real pressure behind them. “Be good for me and I’ll let you cum.” For just a second, his fingers press into your clit and your knees buckle. Your mind is growing hazy from the teases of satisfaction he gives you.

“Please, Lo’ak. Please fuck me. I’m sorry. I’ll be good, I promise!”

You can feel his lips ghosting over the skin of your neck, “There’s my good girl.” His lips kiss up the length of the back of your neck while his fingers on your clit finally give you that pressure you craved.

He loved this game you played. On the outside, so tough and proud. No one would dare to stand against you. No one would even so much as hold your gaze for too long. Sure, you were intimidating, there was no debate about that. He was sure you could probably skin a palulukan with your bare hands if you wanted to. But you were also beautiful beyond measure. You carried yourself with grace and confidence. Lo’ak knew from the moment he started training with you that you needed a challenge. You wanted a challenge. And he decided that he was going to be the one to give you everything you wanted. And in turn, it would turn out like this. You turned into a submissive begging mess under him. And you loved it.

His hand moves from your chest to untie both of your loincloths and let them fall to the ground. The length of his dick rested on your ass and a drop of precum falls onto your lower back.

He stands and spreads your ass to watch how your pussy drips in waiting for him. He bites his lip in restraint. Two of his fingers run up and down the length of your slit to gather your slick. He holds them in front of your face, “Open.” You obediently open your mouth for his fingers and swirl your tongue around them. At the same time, he lines himself up with your opening and pushes inside you. You open your mouth, but his fingers push further inside your mouth making you choke on your own moan.

Once he bottoms out inside you, he wastes no time giving you hard, deep thrusts. He pulls his fingers from your mouth to hold your hips for better leverage. Your hands brace yourself against the rock to keep yourself upright. “Oh, fuck! Lo’ak!”

“Yeah, this what you wanted? You wanted me to fuck that little attitude out of you?” A sharp sting lands on your ass when he smacks it.

“Fuck! Yes! Yes!”

Your legs almost give out from under you, but Lo’ak’s grip on your hips keep you on your feet. “Shit, so tight for me.”

Your body is screaming for release. “Ah! Lo’ak, I’m close!” Just as your feel yourself half a second from going over the edge, Lo’ak stops. “Nooo…” Your hips fall back onto him trying to take back your orgasm that he ripped away from you. You can hear the low chuckle he lets out as his hands hold you place. Your head falls forward against the rock in front of you in frustration as tears prick your eyes.

“Lo’ak…please…”

His hand falls on your ass again in another sharp slap. “Who?”

“Please, sir! Please let me cum! I promise I’ll be so good!” You’ve never felt a need like this outside of your heat and he revels in the power he has over you in moments like this.

“Good girl.” He continues beating against your cervix and your head falls back in ecstasy. A hand finds your hair and grips it holding your head back farther. Your eyes almost get lost in the back of your head as they roll trying to meet Lo’ak’s eyes.

The knot in your core tightens again while you climb back up to your peak. “Ah! I’m…g-gonna…” you struggle to get your words out, but you don’t even need to finish your sentence.

“That’s right, baby. Be my best girl and cum on my dick.” His words push your mind over the edge and your body violently trembles under the weight of your orgasm. Lo’ak nears his own high feeling your pussy clench around him desperately trying to milk him deep inside of you.

“Oh, shit, just like that. Take it, baby.” His thrusts get erratic as he fills you with his seed. He holds his hips flush against your ass holding himself inside of you while you both come down.

When he pulls out of you, your legs fully give out. You almost fall to the sand, but Lo’ak catches you and scoops you into his arms. He carries you out into the water to help wash you off. You nuzzle your face into his chest while he holds you and carefully runs his hands over your body. He tenderly kisses the top of your head and the two of you stay out in the water just floating together until you’re ready to return.

…

The next day, everything is back to business as usual. You and Ao’nung are out fishing and he scrunches his nose up at you.

“What? Why are you making that face at me?” you ask finally fed up with it.

“You smell odd. What is that?” disgust drips from his words.

“One more word about it and I will skin you!” you say pointing at him. He rolls his eyes at you, but you know that this won’t be enough to make him stop asking.

Meanwhile, Neteyam and Lo’ak watch the two of you while practicing their breathing techniques.  

“She’s kinda…intense, right?” Neteyam says lowly to Lo’ak hoping that you won’t hear him and turn your rage on him.

Lo’ak simply looks at you and shrugs his shoulders. “Not really.”

[lightparty-fullparty]

Oh, would you look at the time? It's me having thoughts about Zenos O'clock.

This time, I want to break down what I think the central concept of who and what Zenos is. And why he lives in my brain rent free.

At his core, Zenos is a character who does not understand, nor is himself understood by other people. I don't think that's a very controversial or even new thing to say. It's repeared and reinforced at several points during the narrative, across multiple expansions. Lyse does not understand him at the Royal Menagire, Varis does not understand him at Garlemald, Jullus does not understand him at Camp Broken Glass.

They do not understand who Zenos is as a person. What he values, or what he cares about.

Zenos is shaped by absence. An absence of purpose, motivation, drive. An absence of connections, friendships, love.

Let's break it down.

The Absence of Purpose:

This is his boredom. What fuels his need to find a challenge. That spark of something, anything, to break through the utter tedium of his daily life. The short story claims that he has always been incredibly gifted. Learning and absorbing information with little effort and incredible speed. Before his new swordsmanship instructor, Zenos has never found anything difficult to do. He has not been sufficently challenged. Nothing has managed to retain his interest because he has mastered it too easily. He is a child, and he is tired of his life.

The encounter he had with the Corvosi tutor/assassin was the first instance where Zenos failed to achieve something immediately. Where he had to exert mental and physical effort. Where he developed a desire to overcome repeated instances of failing.

This is why he is desperate to recreate that feeling of challenge. Why he thinks that combat is the only available source he has. Because nothing, absolutely nothing else up to this moment, has done what his instructor did. Made him fail. Made him feel.

What this does to his outlook is narrow Zenos' world view. It gives him a single desire to recreate the feeling of motivation and drive he had towards finally besting his instructor. This is why I think Zenos was content to go along with the Empire's conquest of Eorzea and the rest of Hydalyn. Because it gave him the opportunity to battle. To test himself against other warriors who maybe, just maybe, would give him the same feeling his instructor did.

Nothing else mattered because nothing else made Zenos feel much of anything. It was all the same. Tedious. Bording. Easy.

To Zenos, the pursuit of a person's goal doesn't require any greater justification other than "It's what I want to do." You do things because they serve your greater purpose. You eat to keep yourself alive so you can train, so you can be strong enough for combat. That's it. There is no enjoyment, no pleasure, to be found in the daily living of life. The only moment of catharsis is finally reaching the end.

Zenos does not care about why the Empire is conquering the world. The Emporer simply wants to, that's it. To Zenos, all of the reasoning of "making the world better" of "spreading the glory of Garlemald" does. Not. Matter. Because it does not change the core belief that people do things because they want to.

Jullus asks him why? Zenos asks him why that even matters. People do things because they want to or because it allows them to achieve the thing they want. That's it. That's all. There is never a greater meaning than that. No dressing it up in philosophy or politics. It won't change the outcome of the actions. It doesn't affect anything at all. The dead are still dead. Zenos still wants his fight. Garlemald still wants its glory.

Jullus here is confronted by Zenos' nihilism. The realization that there is no justification. No meaning. Not for Zenos. Not for Garlemald. Not for anything. The reason is meaningless because the reason doesn't change a single damn thing.

And yet. How can we say that the reason never matters? Never changes things? How can we look at FFXIV as a story and say that this is right?

Reason is everywhere. Reason gives context and produces empathy. Understanding. Of course, you resent the outcome less when you understand that the problem was caused by someone trying to help. To make something positive. That it was a simple mistake instead of a purposeful act of harm.

This is where the second absence comes into play. This is where tragedy lies.

The Absence of Connection:

Zenos has no friends. No family bonds. No companionship. No understanding of other people. He sees people only in terms of his own goal. Weak and boring. Or strong and interesting. His emotional range is severely restricted. Fluctuating between bored or frustrated. Anything else only comes to the front after his encounter with the Warrior of Light. Where a faint hope is sparked that this person might just be the one to challenge him. This blazes to life at the Royal Menagire, and Zenos spends the rest of the game chasing that fading comet.

The short story shows us a bleak view of Zenos' life as a child. His mother is dead, and he has no memory of her. His father is absent, dismisive, and uncaring.

The servants and staff around are mere robots to Zenos. Implying they have little to no personal interaction with him. Or are so chained by the rules of Garlean High Society that they can not interact with him or risk punishment. On top of this, I believe that Zenos was also being taught due to the war propaganda, that these servants (possoble taken from conquered nations) were lesser. Were not people. Were to not be seen and not be spoken to.

His tutors were boring. Since lessons were easy and rote. Other children held no interest because Zenos was so far beyond them mentally. I imagine that given his genius that the average child his age must have seemed like a toddler to him. Zenos has never had a peer. Someone of equal standing. Someone he could connect with or was able to empathize with. I highly doubt that anyone else around him found lessons and training to be so easy. Who found living itself to be dull.

Zenos IS an island. Zenos IS alone. And this affected him deeply. He has never learned what a healthy connection with someone else is. His emotional development was so utterly stunted and warped that it left him unable to empathise. To Zenos, his life has been so empty of warmth and care for him that he is unable to feel that towards other. Due to this, he can not understand motivations outside of his own narrow scope. To Zenos, life has never had any meaning, outside of his pursuit of challenge. Whereas others around him, who struggle, who fail, have always had this deep rooted purpose of striving to improve and succeed. Their dreams and goals pushing them forwards because it doesn't come easy. So here we have this isolated, empty, genius. Who has never struggled, has never managed to connect with anyone. Chasing desperatedly after the one, singular person in his life who managed to change that. it's so important that he called the Warrior of Light his 'First Friend'. The first person Zenos has been challenged by, who has sparked insterest. Who he has connected to. I do believe that, as least for the 'cannon events' of FFXIV, the Meteor Survivor Box Art timeline, the Warrior of Light does have things in common with Zenos. The enjoyment of a good fight. A want to face tough opponents, to seek greater and greater challenge. Zenos sees this, and for the first time in his life, he is able to in part understand someone else. He is only able to return this gift of purpose and connection in the same way he recieved it. By throwing himself at the WoL in combat. To try and recreat that spark he felt. This is also the reason, I think, that Zenos didn't change his approach after he resurected into EleZenos. I don't think he ment to come back. It was an accidently biproduct of the Resonant. Zenos was suddenly faced with the possiblity that he was now immortal, and I think the implication that his life of utter tediom would never end drove him to chase the WoL all the harder. He needed something to give him meaning and purpose, or be faced with a bleak eternaty forevermore.

This is what Alisiae is able to see. Past all of Zenos' outward neutrality and boredom, she saw that desire in him to keep that connection with the WoL. That's why she called him out on it, becuase Zenos did not understand himself and his emotions enough to idenitfy what it was he really wanted. A friend.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

All the reviews I try to watch (without spoilers) all come down to people saying ‘oh they have to say this’ on positive ones and then complaining about ‘not being how Dragon Age is’ on negative ones in the comments (and I know I know, don’t read the comments but… yeah.) and it’s… frustrating.

Dragon Age has always been an evolving franchise that has vastly moved away from its ‘Baldur’s Gate Successor’ state.

I never liked DAO combat, but then I’m a story person. I want a good story that’s intriguing and fun to play, which I hear is what is happening so far. That’s one thing even a die hard combat fan reviewer said is good. The story was interesting so far. And I’m excited for it. I want a good story. I want to have fun with the game. But even then, my brothers who both enjoy combat, call Origins mid. It’s not a great combat system for them and they find it kind of annoying that’s there’s so much that just doesn’t matter.

How many people actually use the poisons and the traps in game? How many of the specializations are that useful? Not many. And acting like Origins was flawless and ‘all the games should have been like it’ is just a bunch of elitists who can’t get over the fact the games rapidly change and grow over time. The franchise has always been a very fluid one. Inquisition wasn’t like Origins at all and half the diehards who complain about nothing being like Origins hated it despite Inquisition being one of the best selling BioWare games.

Then the comments on ‘what’s the play length’ are just as frustrating. Game play length is one of those things that honestly are hard to gauge anyway! ‘It has over hundreds of hours’ can be said about so many games. But how many are actually enjoyable hours?

I’m sick of open world bullshit where it’s the same 50 fetch quests in an area. I want to run around, have fun in a linear mission sense and have fun. This is my prefered game. Even the OG Mass Effect was more mission focused even if you could fuck off to run around planets for a while. If you focused only on the mission, I legit will say it took me three days to beat the first Mass Effect. And that is counting sleeping, eating and tedious tasks like a social life. I like those games where there is a mission and some side quests. I don’t want to have to run around a giant area full of nothing again.

Inquisition sucked in that regard. How many of us actually bothered with going to the Hissing Wastes more then once or bothered with the Shards more then a couple times? Fucking few I know.

So I’m excited about it being linear. I’m excited about seeing the combat. I’m excited about the story.

Everyone complaining lashes out about the combat, the art style and it being woke. But Dragon Age art style has always been fucking weird (let’s be real) and the combat has always been something to complain about.

And then the people going ‘oh you can just change names and it’s not Dragon Age’ you can do the same thing with Baldur’s Gate 3. Change the setting, edit a few D&D things and boom- same game. Same with Skyrim. Same with Call of Duty. Same with ANY game.

Also NGL- it’s telling a lot of the people I see do the most complaining are cis heterosexual white dudes. I legit have seen a couple ‘I’m not to sure’ comments from women but nothing to the level I see from the dudes.

Just putting it out there.

[capitalisticveins]

Shaw Pack Hcs Part 4 (i think?) (Ft. Sam)

These are 3 pages long on Google Docs wow um

- Tank has smoked once, but didn’t exactly get into it.

- Asher and Christian put things they KNOW Milo will need on the top shelf of whatever house they’re in.

- Baaabe has freckles. Whether they're faint, or there’s tons of them, it doesn’t matter. They HAVE freckles.

- Angel may not be able to cook, but for some reason they can really fucking good. Cake, cookies, macaroons, brownies, lava cake, hell, Creme Brulee. They just find baking and cleaning everything up tedious, so they don’t do it often.

- As kids, whenever Kelsey came over with her mom to visit Arden and Christian, Arden and Kelsey would do anything and everything to scare the shit out of Christian.

- The only game Sam and Tank can play on equal grounds with no advantages towards each other is Just Dance 2018.

- Ansel and Bailey work on their upper arm strength more

- David doesn’t shave often, but his face somehow remains slightly shaven? Which is weird because he grows facial hair like crazy.

- David sleeps like a fucking corpse, that man does NOT move.

- Angel likes to shave David’s face when he’s asleep and keeps the hair in a jar under the bed in a box.

- Asher eats Kraft Mac ‘n Cheese.

- Tank LOVES frosting on cake and cupcakes. They lick the frosting off of those mini-cupcakes and eat the frosting first off normal cake.

- Angel used to believe in Herobrine, but instead of being scared or not playing the game until he was “removed”, they’d actively seek him out.

- Sweetheart’s impulsive thoughts have once led them to go tangible while in between a wall. It was excruciatingly painful and they don’t know how they didn’t get split in half.

- Milo would sharpen his teeth if he could.

- Ansel eats Crumbl Cookies, much to Christian’s dismay (he believes they’re undercooked).

- Asher and Baaabe don’t get out of each other’s arms until both of them are awake. If one wakes up first, they just lay there until the other wakes up.

- Baaabe didn’t go into elevators for a week after they met Asher. Not because they didn’t want to see him again, but because they were deathly afraid of being stuck again.

- When he was a kid, Marie would aggressively pinch Milo’s cheek whenever he did something bad.

- Baaabe took it surprisingly well when Asher first admitted  to being a werewolf. Not because they were shocked or in fear, but because it explained a LOT of weird shit he would do.

- Once, when they were a kid, Tank got into a frosting container their mom used to ice cakes she’d make, and ate all the frosting out of it. They would’ve been punished if they didn’t vomit an hour afterward, since it was “punishment enough” in their father’s words

- Madelyn and all of the older pack kids (only girls) would have sleepovers almost all the time. Kelsey, Bailey, and Arden were invited, but not so often since they were younger.

- Sweetheart likes to buy square pillows so it can support their neck better.

- Asher, David, Milo, and Christian would try to sneak in or see what the girls were talking about, much to Madelyn’s dismay.

- David has a vase full of honeysuckles in his bedroom.

- Sweetheart can NOT hopscotch. They’ve tried and they keep tripping by the time they reach 6.

- Angel has once laughed so hard they passed out.

- Bailey likes to blow bubblegum, but it’s hard to pop them. Meaning if they grow too big she has to use her fingers to pop them, but then sometimes it gets stuck to her hands.

- Brooke has seen Bailey get tangled up in gum during a pack meeting, and had to go over and help her, but then he started getting stuck in the gum, until Amanda saw him.

- Long story short half the pack got stuck in 5 pieces of gum until David had to use scissors to cut them out. That night he prayed for a normal pack.

- Sweetheart was once compared to Sherlock Holmes. That’s the best compliment they believe they’ve ever been given.

- Baaabe always has a stupid and goofy smile whenever Asher walks into the room. 

- As a kid, Milo was often left out of fun activities with the other kids. Bailey was the only one that stuck around him when they forgot to invite him.

- I.E: Brooke forgot to invite him to his 10th birthday party, and when Bailey found out, she and her parents took him to Six Flags.

- Other than the literal stealth in the pack, Brooke is the most stealthy member of the Shaw Pack. He can stop breathing for up to 5 minutes and cloak his aura enough for any normal empowered person to not sense or notice him.

- Tank has put mentos in coke and shoved the bottle in their mouth, Milo had to snatch the bottle from their hands after soda started spraying from their nose. Asher gave them 20 bucks to do it.

- David would stay up until 2am studying for ANY test they were given back in high school.

- Asher tried getting a tattoo in high school and told David, but David said if he ever finds a tattoo on him, he’d tell Asher’s parents immediately.

- Arden is the reason unempowered people in Dahlia believe wolves howl during a full moon. She makes sure that during ALL full moons, she’s at the highest peak possible in the town, shifted and howling as loud as she can. Only Christian knows she’s the one doing it.

- Tank has forgotten to put water in a cup of noodles once before microwaving it.

- Sweetheart has scared Baaabe before and this led to Baaabe cursing them out in a different language.

- Angel had braces from elementary school to high school, and keep unknowingly licking their teeth.

- David is NOT flexible, that man is as stiff as a floorboard.

- When Tank and their family first joined the pack, Tank was pissy and distant because they missed their old pack with their old friends.

-Milo has said “I’m walking ‘ere!” once, that’s the only reason Asher and Christian say it whenever he’s around.

- Bailey eats waffles with her hands.

- Kelsey and David fold their pizzas.

- Arden used a fork and knife to eat hers once to piss everyone off.

- Asher, David, Christian, Arden, Amanda, Brooke, Miguel, and Bailey have done the cliche “break a window with a baseball” in Amanda’s backyard once. Bailey broke it and was going to come clean, but Christian panicked and blamed it on Kelsey, who wasn’t there. He then tried to backtrack and blame it on Milo, who was in the corner playing with dandelions because they forgot to ask him to play. Bailey got away with it because Amanda’s mom believed it was him due to his lying, and no one backed him up.

- Asher tries to laugh more “cutely” or “manly” but whenever Baaabe says a joke he can’t help but laugh genuinely.

- When David was scolding Tank in “Confronted but your Pack Alpha”, Tank had a scowl on and kept looking at the ground. They didn’t make eye contact until the end.

- Sweetheart can throw it back

- David can be DEATHLY silent when he wants to be. This is why Sam didn’t hear David from behind him during the pack Solstice, despite his advanced hearing.

- Whenever the Sunbound Solstice comes around, and none of the wolves feel good or energized enough to do anything, the mates do everything in their power to pamper and take care of them until they feel better. The only exceptions are Tank, Sam, Milo, and Sweetheart since they’re all Moonbound. In this case, Baaabe and Angel wait until David and Asher fall asleep to help them out.

[jadeandroses]

Crafting a mythological death figure for the Mushroom Kingdom, aka “things I do when I’m staving off a panic attack”

TW for death, but as a general concept, not in relation to any specific person or character.

Also. It’s long. Very, very long. (I was having a pretty bad night.)

A couple months ago, I had the thought, what if the Mushroom Kingdom used bird imagery prominently, not just in nursery rhymes surrounding the birth of a child, but also in death rituals as well?

The extent to which the stork is used in everyone’s personal Mario Bros. canons differs greatly. The literal, actual stork will play a very prominent role in my personal AU. By contrast, in AUs like those of beloved mutuals @peaches2217 and @akiiame-blog, it would probably just be a fairy tale.

That being said, it is still in the canon of the games. To the Mushroom Kingdom, the stork has always meant new life, whether that be as a literal bringer if life or as a mythological figure.

So I thought, what if the opposite was true, as well? What if their death figure is a bird as well?

It is here that, in my quest of forgetting my troubles, I dove off the shores of canon into purely hypothetical territory.

A large part of me was leaning toward creating a raven as their death figure, because that’s a bird that has always been associated with death anyway. Other options I explored included hornbills, owls, crows, and vultures.

Upon further research, however, I think I like the crow best. This is because—through a surface googling—while it’s recommended that you don’t feed birds mushrooms, wild crows have been known to eat a variety of them and will know which ones are safe and not safe. Which, I think when creating a death figure for the Mushroom World, is fairly relevant.

But speaking about things that are relevant when crafting a death figure for the Mushroom Kingdom…

The 1-up mushroom.

Crossover nonsense aside, in my personal AU, they are literal mushrooms to be consumed that can reverse even the most severe of wounds, even if taken within a short timeframe after brain-death. In this, it seems we all agree, and hence, I see no use in treating it as anything other than a magical item. Rare, perhaps. Unseen to the point of being myth-like? Perhaps.

But it’s still worth talking about given the subject matter. We’re talking about a world that can reverse death, after all, in the right circumstances. And after all, the most mundane of our real world’s magic has been used in mythology as power against evil. (Bread magic, for instance.) So why not Mushroom magic, in the face of the Mushroom Kingdom’s hypothetical death figure?

In thinking about this hypothetical death figure and their relationship with the 1-up mushroom, I’m thinking that it could go something like this:

The crow consumes souls at death. However, if a 1-up mushroom is used, then it can be said that the crows will instead eat that mushroom, instead of a being’s soul. This way, all are satisfied.

(Condensed version; I’m feeling a little better rn)

Hence, here’s what I have so far:

Death figure opposite to life figure (life figure being a stork)

Crow (because crows eat mushrooms)

1-up mushroom being used in MK mythology as a tool to offset said crow

How would this affect death rituals?

To be honest, all of the above was a very longwinded, tedious, and frankly unnecessary ramble to explain one specific headcanon of mine:

And that is that I think the people of the Mushroom Kingdom would leave bird feathers for their dead. (Specifically crow and/or stork feathers.)

[eye-of-the-phoenix]

I want to like CRY so much

I just finished replaying it and I have so many opinions, as always. This game is unique for me in that I WANT to like it so badly but it just doesn't quite work. However, I stubbornly replay it and ponder what it could have been because I wish I liked it more. I especially feel this way because I live in New Orleans and its just so CLOSE to being good!

More thoughts under the cut.

PROS:

I actually think they did a great job with the setting. It's raining so hard that the power goes out and the streets are too flooded for cabs? There are weird creatures and bugs around every corner, some of which are messing with your belongings? The best food is from some sketchy stand served by some random Shorty person? Accurate, welcome to New Orleans. I can even forgive Bess for eating crawfish with the shells on with a spoon.

The characters are also good. Lamont is completely underutilized to where I'd never believe he was the culprit, but I can imagine running into all of these people throughout my day and it makes sense that they would all also interact with each other off-screen.

The core mystery is really interesting. It's the classic Nancy-gets-sucked-in-to-a-case-on-vacation scenario, but she really does stumble into the situation by accident in this one and has a personal stake because she gets attacked by the skeleton man. The progression is believable as she starts to unravel the skull mystery and discovers that Bruno's death was actually kind of suspicious.

My favorite ND trope, secret room/hideout/study revealed midgame, with a lot of things to look at and click on, is present.

CONS

The music is kind of a miss. It's not bad, but it should have been so much better. It has this boring CLK old-timey feel and they kind of missed the mark in my opinion. I think a more upbeat track with some brass, maybe something bluesy, maybe something modern would have added more variety.

The puzzles. THE PUZZLES ARE SO TEDIOUS. I hate that we find this book Bruno wrote and it's just a walkthrough to getting a bunch of eyeballs through various boring puzzles for the sake of padding the game. I use a walkthrough for like half of this game every time because I don't find the puzzles fun. My least favorites are the sneeze contraption because there is ZERO confirmation as to whether you're on the right track when you do it, and the tombstone pun puzzle because walking back and forth around the cemetery is SO TEDIOUS and it has zero replay value.

Bruno's house doesn't make sense because it's fairly spacious and kept up on the bottom story and the top floor that we can access is just two horrible moldy rooms. Bruno, you dropped dead from breathing in black mold in your own house, not a heart attack. Trust me when I say I know it's humid and wet here, but there's just no reason for the upstairs to be that uninhabitable indoors.

On a related note, I wish there was more to explore, and no, the cemetery doesn't count. There should be more rooms for Nancy to snoop through (where is Henry sleeping?) and like one more place for Bess to go. Or more things to do and click on in Zeke's aside from just looking at that one box a million times. Or the option to poke around Renee's table when she's away. NOT nearly enough snooping for me.

It's so dark. It's too dark. It could have been like 10% lighter or had a partial daytime element so that I could actually see what I was doing even a tiny bit.

[mylifeisactuallyamess]

The Keldabe Kiss

A/N: It’s no secret I actually despise February 14th (whether I’m single or not!) and so I fall back on my boys to help me through. Don’t ask, I’m complicated. This year the lucky guy is Tech 🥹 honestly my clone fixation has blown up recently and I’m not even sorry. (I use that tag a lot.) I wrote something simple for him.

Summary: Festival of Love has come to Ord Mantel (yes I fucked with the timeline.)

Warnings: none except this is based on a little universe I have going on in my head where the Bad Batch rescued a medic and nicknamed her Stitch. F!Reader (I can’t remember if I stipulated that in the fic so just covering my ass. If could be GN I honestly can’t remember.) Mention of children (Omega.) It’s kinda fluffy.

Word Count: 3.5k+

You stood outside Cid’s parlour, watching some people put up flickering lights ready for tomorrow's Festival. You’d been so set on going, never having the opportunity to experience something like this before as you’d always been on the run or ‘avoiding the locals', your father had called it. These things were never fun alone though.

The wistful sigh couldn’t be contained but your sinking mood was lifted by the group coming toward you. Their armour was distinctive, marked with orange and grey, carrying their helmets as they eyed everyone with a healthy dose of suspicion. You knew where they were heading and you waited to side until they reached you.

“Ah, Stitch!” Wrecker grinned joyfully at you and barged past his brothers to grab you in a bear hug, lifting you clean off the ground.

“Wrecker!” You giggled, momentarily losing your balance after being swept off your feet. Hunter automatically reached out to steady you with a firm hand to your shoulder followed by the softening of his gaze. “Good mission?”

“Depends on what you’d define as good.” Hunter muttered and moved past you revealing Tech who made eye contact for a brief second.

“That bad?” You asked and fell into step beside the younger looking clone.

“Well no one was injured, so I think you’d class that as a successful mission. Cid, not so much.”

“Ah,” you understood perfectly. They left you at the bar with Omega and you glanced at her fallen face, wondering how you could cheer her up. “There is a festival tomorrow,” you told her.

“What sort of festival?”

“It’s a celebration of the best things in life. There’s going to be stalls selling special items, different food, they are putting decorations up and I heard, there might even be fireworks.”

“Fireworks??” Her brown eyes shone with wonder.

“Want to come with me?”

“Oh yes! Hunter, can I go with Stitch?” Omega swivelled on her stool and you looked up at the tired group as they all grabbed a drink.

“Go where?” He asked, his tone laced with doubt and you wondered if you should have offered at all.

“Oh it’s nothing…” you tried to gloss over it but once Omega got her teeth into something she didn’t let it drop.

“It’s not nothing! It sounds really cool! There might even be fireworks,” she parroted. “I want to go.”

“You’re talking about the festival, tomorrow?” Echo huffed as he slumped on the other side of you.

“The Festival of Love originated from Endor and has since been recognised in places like Naboo, Coruscant, Ord Mantell and other places. The Festival is to honour kinship and love. Traditions include exchanging gifts, eating meals and…dancing.” Tech lowered his datapad and glanced at the expressions on his brother’s faces.

Echo sighed and turned to look around the bar like he wasn’t even part of this conversation, Wrecker grumbled something about wanting to play dejarik and sidled off. Hunter’s shoulders slouched like he couldn’t think of anything more tedious while Tech had his nose in his datapad, probably scrolling through more facts.

“I don’t mind taking her,” you mumbled.

“You can’t take Omega on your own,” Hunter instantly said, causing Omega to cross her arms and sulk. “Plus we have another mission for Cid tomorrow.” He leaned closer to the little girl and you could see the regret etched on his tattooed face. “I’m sorry, Omega.”

“I never get to see anything fun!” She pushed away from the bar and stormed off to find Wrecker.

“Handled that well,” Echo muttered.

“You could have stepped in,” Hunter shot back hotly.

“May I suggest an alternative?” Tech appeared at your shoulder, taking Omega’s vacant seat.

“You’re going to anyway,” Echo snarked under his breath and you raised an eyebrow but Tech didn’t even notice the other clones' sour tone.

“If it’s Omega running off you’re worried about, I can watch her. I’ll make her wear a tracker.”

“Tech! You can’t put a tracker on a kid!” Hunter nearly spat out his drink in shock and stared incredulously at his brother.

“I can. I have before and she didn’t seem to mind.”

“Did she know?” You asked Tech gently, making him look up from his datapad as he thought about your question.

“Actually, no.”

“I don’t think she should go and it puts us at a disadvantage if Tech stays behind.”

“Not so,” Tech cut across Echo. “You don’t need my particular skill set for this mission.”

“He’s right,” Hunter agreed and Echo just rolled his eyes in response. A strained quiet settled over the group only broken by the sounds of the parlour and Tech’s tapping on his datapad. You clutched your drink, feeling bad that you’d not spoken to Hunter first, of course it was his decision if you took Omega or not. “All right, fine!” Hunter grumbled and then downed his drink. “Plant a tracker on her and do not let her take it off. Plant one on Stitch while you’re at it, we can’t afford to lose her either.”

“Gladly,” Tech blinked owlishly at his own response and his fingers stilled on the screen.

“Well! Now that’s settled I’m going to head back. I’ve had a long day.” You emptied your own cup and slipped off the stool, hoping no one would notice the silly smile you couldn’t suppress at the idea of Tech putting a tracker on you.

“Tech…” Hunter jerked his head in your direction and then went off to find Omega and no doubt tell her the good news about tomorrow.

“Of course.” To your surprise the datapad was put away and he stood, looking at you with an air of expectancy. “You were leaving?” He reminded you, a hint of uncertainty in his voice like he worried he’d missed something.

“You’re coming with me?” Tech swallowed and adjusted his specs as his honeyed brown eyes met yours for just a second.

“Hunter is worried about you walking back at this time. Crime activity has increased by 28 percent in this section and I believe it’s why he wants you and Omega to have an escort tomorrow.”

“Oh.” You stood there stupidly for a second, trying to gather your skittish thoughts. “It’s not necessary,” you eventually managed to say.

“I believe it is.” You couldn’t argue against that so you didn’t protest anymore and he followed you out. The street was almost empty, just a few people with their heads down as they went home. Tech kept a watchful eye, his hand never straying far from his DC-17s. He stayed about half a step behind you almost bumping into you when you stopped at your door.

“Well, we made it.”

“So it would seem. I have yet to check your residence.” You sputtered out a laugh but he only continued to stare at you as he waited for you to admit him.

“You’re serious. Ok, sorry about the mess.” The door opened and the lights came on automatically. You went to go in but he put out an arm to stop you, dropping the visor down over his specs and stalking into your apartment that also doubled as your treatment room.

Your droid woke up at the movement beeping out a greeting, coming forward a few steps before the power seemed to disappear completely from it and you huffed as it slouched lifelessly. Opening the front panel you stared completely clueless at the wires wishing you could afford to get the damn thing fixed.

“The charging ports might need replacing,” Tech announced his arrival from scouting out your place. “I could run a diagnostic if you like?”

“It’s late, you’ve barely been home.”

“Home is a state of mind.”

“Yeah…” he was right. You’d never had a place you could really call home. So home being a feeling rather than a place was the most accurate thing you’d heard in a long time.

“Another time then,” Tech said. “Your place is clear. I shall be back tomorrow with Omega.” He walked towards the door and you followed, desperately wanting to say something else but not sure what.

“Tech…” he turned at the sound of his name and you really tried hard not to gaze directly into his eyes, knowing that made him uncomfortable. “Be careful. On the way back.”

“Always,” he saluted you with two fingers before disappearing round the corner. You closed and locked your door letting out a frustrated sigh. Of all the clones to harbour secret feelings for…

Your droid looked like a patient, laid out on the table with its wires hanging out as you tried to repair it, not wanting to put Tech out. He had better things to do than maintain your equipment. The door alarm sounded and you quickly smoothed down the material of your outfit, your heart fluttering a little at the idea of spending the whole day with Tech. And Omega.

The latter wrapped herself around you as soon as your door opened, her mouth instantly going as she spilled her excitement. You grinned at Tech and his tense expression, beckoning them inside. Omega went straight to your table, standing on a supply crate to have a proper look inside the droid.

“Did she sleep much?” You asked him noticing the way he clutched his datapad and glanced over at the mess your droid was in.

“She slept less than the normal amount,” he informed you matter of factly. “Echo was not amused.”

“Not a lot amuses him at the moment,” you replied dryly.

“Echo believes we should be doing more against the Empire rather than just hiding. He cannot help it.” You hated to admit Tech was right. He seemed completely unruffled by the conversation and you admired his utter acceptance of his brothers.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes!” Omega leapt down and hurried to the door. “Come on! We don’t want to miss anything!” She shouted and you smiled at Tech as he refrained from rolling his eyes.

“I’m not actually sure we can miss an all day event,” Tech called after her. “You forgot this.” You locked your door and turned to find him holding out a tracker on the palm of his hand, the light blinking innocently.

“I don’t think Hunter was serious about one for me,” you half laughed but Tech stayed standing in your way with his hand held out.

“He was. And so am I.” You took the tracker and slipped it into your pocket, Tech lifted his datapad and pressed a few buttons. “Perfect signal.” For some reason that made you so happy that you’d pleased him over something so simple.

“Are you guys coming?” Omega appeared around the corner eyeing you both just standing in your doorway. Tech brought up the rear as you reached for Omega and she clasped your hand eagerly.

The festival wasn’t what you expected at all, it was so much better. The streets were lined with pink and red coloured streamers, all fluttering in the breeze. Bunting stretched from one side of the street to the other and the lights were flickering. You couldn’t wait to get the full effect of it when it was dark.

Omega danced from stall to stall, her excitement contagious and you found yourself caught up in her joy and zest for life. Tech trailed after you both, suffering the chatter, loud noises and heavy crowds. Keeping himself occupied by noting down new facts or recording anything he found remotely interesting.

You happened upon a stall run by a twi’lek, your stomach rumbling at the fresh meilooruns. You approached the stall noticing the usually orange fruit had a purple tinge to the rind. You’d never had this variant before but before you could ask for one Omega was tugging on your hand and dragging you to look at something else.

Soon even Omega was flagging, but her eyes were still wide from all the sights she’d experienced. Her bag was full of trinkets and she’d bought something for each of her brothers. You felt honoured that she had asked for your opinion, enjoying the feeling she instilled inside you. She really was something special.

As darkness fell you suggested getting a good view for the fireworks and began to head in the direction of the seating area when Tech stopped you.

“I have a better place where we can watch the fireworks, away from the crowds.”

“Is it far?” Omega asked, chasing it up with a yawn.

“It’s approximately 0.5 klicks from our current location,” Tech rattled off as he adjusted his specs, the light of the datapad reflected in them.

“I can make it,” she said cheerily but you heard the fatigue in her voice, especially if she had been up early hassling her older brothers.

Now Tech took point, leading you away from the streets where the festival was still in full swing. You wanted to question him but instead you decided to trust him. Tech had never let you down yet. Your interest peaked when he told you to climb an outside staircase. Omega went first with no hesitation, climbing to the top of the seemingly abandoned building and gasping loudly.

“Oh…wow.” You looked up at the sky, mesmerised by the amount of stars that dotted the black sky above you. Tech had led you to a place on the edge of town that wasn’t affected by the lights of the festival, giving you an incredible view of the stars and no doubt the fireworks when they started.

“I calculated the amount of noise and light pollution from the festival. From that I was able to survey an appropriate place where it was quiet and had uninterrupted views.”

“Tech…this is amazing!” You gushed.

“He checked it out last night,” Omega said slyly and Tech looked at her in shock. “What? I was awake when you snuck out. Now I know what you were doing.”

“Clearly I wasn’t as subtle as I thought,” he muttered, reaching to adjust his specs again.

“Oh look! Seats!” Omega dropped her bag and fell into one, turning to wave you over.

“Were these you as well?” You asked Tech quietly.

“The fireworks are supposed to last approximately 15 minutes. I had assumed that by being on your feet all day and chasing Omega, you’d want to rest.”

“You assumed correctly.” Omega had taken the middle seat, cuddling up into you when you settled beside her. Tech sat on the other end, his trusty datapad in his hand as he counted down to the fireworks; and they started exactly when he said they would.

The fireworks were the best moment of the day, filling the sky with glittery flashes that lit up the world all around you. Omega laid her head in your lap and you rested a hand on her side watching the display together. You revelled in the deep bangs that seemed to explode in your chest and the fizzling crackles that popped in your ears. You’d never seen something so eye-catching and you were sorely disappointed when they finished; just a plume of white smoke the only evidence that they had happened at all.

“She’s asleep.” You glanced down at Omega and sure enough her eyes were closed, even breaths passing through her slightly open lips as she lay completely relaxed in your lap. “You’re good with her.”

“You think so?” Biting your lower lip you glanced over at Tech to find him looking at you both with a strange expression on his face that he tried to hide.

“I know so. Due to her nature she is exceptionally accepting but she does seem to favour you.” Gently you swiped some blonde strands out of her peaceful face, regretful that you were going to have to wake her soon.

“I think she’s great and after everything she’s seen and been through…she still has this innocence about her. She’s a credit to you all.”

“I don’t see us having much influence over her,” Tech said and you scoffed at his words.

“She idolises every single one of you.”

“That’s nice to hear,” you turned to find Hunter, Echo and Wrecker coming from behind. Tech stood up and greeted his brothers. Wrecker reached down and plucked the sleeping child from your lap, cradling her in his massive arms.

“Look at her,” he whispered in his gravelly voice. “This is the quietest she’s been for days!”

“Don’t wake her then, Wrecker!” Echo hissed as they made their way carefully down the stairs.

“Was it worth it?” Hunter asked you and the smile that spread over your face told him everything he needed to know.

“Thanks for lending us Tech. He did actually put a tracker on me,” you told Hunter who let out a soft chuckle.

“Good. I’d be having words with him if he didn’t.”

“You know, I’m scrappy. I can look after myself.” Hunter fixed you with a knowing glare and it reminded you so much of Tech for a moment.

“It’s what we do. Anyway we need you, Stitch. More than we like to admit.”

“Medics are everywhere,” you told Hunter with a quick roll of your eyes.

“Not ones, as good as you.” The pair of you stopped and looked back at Tech who came to an abrupt halt. “Well,” he adjusted his specs and lifted his datapad. “Stitch has performed 107 successful repairs on all of us together, the most drastic being my broken femur from the failed mission on Serenno. Not to mention the blaster shot to your chest and Wrecker’s shoulder. Also her continual observation of Echo…” Hunter gave his brother a lopsided smile and clapped him firmly on the shoulder.

“Now you’ve listed her best accomplishments, you can walk her home.” He melted into the shadows suddenly leaving you and Tech alone in the dark.

“Do you know the best route? I’m still not familiar with this part of town,” you admitted shyly.

“It won’t take us long,” he reassured you. The walk was quiet, you weren’t sure what to say to him and your feet were beginning to ache something drastic. You followed Tech onto a street you were familiar with and fished around in your pockets for the tracker.

“I should give this back.”

“Keep it. I have plenty.” Tech said quickly. He glanced at you and then continued. “It’s a modified one, with a panic option that goes straight to my datapad. Should you ever need it.” Your fingers closed round the tracker, suddenly finding it the most precious thing you had.

All too soon your door loomed and the pair of you stood under the small light that flowed on the outside.

“Tech…?”

“Yes?”

“I got you, something.” He watched curiously as you opened your bag and pulled out a small box, taking it gently when you offered it to him. “I hope it’s useful.” He opened the lid and revealed a brand new All-kit tool. The handle had a rubber grip, the alloy shiny from having never been used. At first Tech didn’t say anything, just reaching for the tool and you panicked, thinking you’d got something he really didn’t need. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know if you had one, I’ve never noticed you with one.”

“I don’t,” he interrupted. “I didn’t have one, until now.” He looked up to see the relieved smile cross your face and a small frown appeared on his own. “You shouldn’t be so worried, I am always in need of tools and this…” he pulled it from the box and with a flick began to cycle through the different heads. “It’s immediately my favourite,” he reassured you. “Which reminds me…” he put the box in his bag and extracted something that had you gasping a little. “I saw you looking at these but not actually buy one.” You took the purple fruit from his hand, trying not to over think the fact you both gave a gift during the Festival of Love. He probably didn’t realise the depth of the tradition and you were fine with that. Although out of the whole squad, he’d be the only one to know.

“Tech, thank you so much.” Emotion coloured your tone and you stepped closer to him. Gently resting a hand on his shoulder you made your intentions clear expecting him to pull away. When he didn’t you went ahead and planted a soft kiss on his cheek, breathing him in as you did. He lifted a hand to rest against your elbow, as though he was steadying you both. Your eyes were still closed as you pulled your lips into your mouth, reluctant to move away just yet. Tech’s quick breath fanned over your face as he pressed his forehead against yours. His fingers tightened on your arm and you both stood like that for a moment, just drinking in each other's closeness.

“Tech?” His com lit up with Hunter’s voice and you separated. Clearing your throat you backed up and allowed him to answer, telling Hunter he was all right and was just making his way back.

“Thanks, Tech.” You swallowed down the huskiness in your voice. “For today, for all of it. Get back safely, please.”

“Always,” he said, touching two fingers to his forehead and giving you the casual salute. “I’ll be back tomorrow to fix your droid.” He told you, walking backwards down the street, his gaze still fixed on you.

“I’ll be here,” you answered, leaning on your doorframe and watching him leave.

“I know.”