#happy birthday best slug!!

[braincloggedwithcats]

How's your Christmas been?

Pretty good! I finally pinned that moth I found a few days ago, waiting for it to dry to give as a late gift. I got some canvases and a new hoodie, pretty thrilled about that. If we're talking Christmas as an event rather than a day, most of my gifts have been very well received, I think I am very much winning in that regard. So overall very good, I am very pleasantly surprised because I usually find Christmas more annoying than anything

[draco-dormiens]

FOR ALL THAT IS RIGHT AND JUST - Flashback

auror!draco x auror!fem!slytherin reader / post-war au

warnings: strong language, angst, implied mental struggles, negative self deprecation, alcohol use, mild descriptions of wounds

wc: 2162

tags: @yeolsbubbles @send-me-styles @shinytalent @malfoylover4l

tag list open!!

masterlist

Draco's Story

Late July, 1998

"I've decided, Dray." Your voice is soft but laced with determination. He sits beside you, on the roof of his parents mansion, the window to his room just below your dangling feet, a cool night breeze licking his skin as the July heat still lingers in the air. "I'm going to become an Auror. After everything I've seen, after uncle Travers..." you pause for a long moment, staring up into the dark navy sky, dotted with glimmering white specs where, thousands and thousands of lightyears away, stars burn; big, bright, dazzling orbs, "I can't let it happen again. I can't allow other children to go through what we have, what you have. Even if it just a small change, I want to help make it."

He's silent for while. The bottle of Fire Whiskey you'd both been sipping on rests just between his knees. Bringing it to his lips, he takes a long drink before setting it back down. There are bruises on his knuckles, cuts on his arms, a nice gash to his forehead from where he'd managed to make contact with the floor outside of the Room of Requirement. If not for the boy he'd spent the last seven years envying with a seething jealousy, he would no doubt be dead. He owed Harry and his friends his life, and that, although a cold hard fact, did not settle well in the young Malfoy's stomach. He was bitter, scarred, and lost. Where did he go from here? All he had come to know, everything his parents had made him believe, was nothing but blind faith and complete ignorance.

Once a bully, preying on the weak and snarling insults at those he deemed lesser. Once a boy of great talent and expectations. Once the seeker for his house. Then a Death Eater, a coward and no better than those who tore the school to pieces.

He was no better, and he was no one. Not anymore; but he feels now, despite his prejudice over the years, that he wasn't really anyone to begin with. When the mark, that now is nothing but an ugly scar on his milky skin, was first placed upon his arm, he really had believed he was to be granted power and protection. All he had to do to bring his family glory was follow instructions. He thought he wanted this. He thought he was doing his parents proud. When he realised his misjudgment, it was far too late to change his mind.

Draco tried to murder. He tried to - but as much as he told himself it was his duty, the small flicker of who he really wanted to be started to burn a little brighter, a little hotter, until he smothered the flame and hexed Katie Bell and cast an unforgivable curse on Madame Rosmerta. Until he was face to face with his one mission, just to fail at the very last second and become the laughing stock of a group of rotten-minded wizards.

He can still hear you - sometimes in his sleep, sometimes when he wakes in the night.

"Please, just tell me what's wrong, Dray." You cried in the hallway that night, his wand tight in his grip. The sound of a happy, joyful Slug Club Christmas party was well underway further down the corridor. You, in your stunning emerald dress and diamond earrings he had gifted you the other year for your birthday, had begged him to confide in you multiple times. Daphne had written him off, Blaise and Theo told you he had changed and wasn't coming back. Pansy had a small amount of faith left, but it was fading quickly. Your sixth year was already turning out to be a monstrosity, and now the boy you would have called your very best friend had changed; he wasn't Draco anymore, he was colder, more bitter and worryingly paler. Albeit, his personality wasn't the warmest nore the most endearing to begin with, but since your childhood he had been a constant in your life.

And now he was anything but that.

"I've already told you," he says, lifeless and empty, "I don't want you getting caught up in anything. Just go back to the party, alright?"

"Why are you shutting me out?" You almost whimper, and the white knuckle grip on his wand only gets tighter, threatening to snap the wood in half. He hates this. He hates it.

But he must do it. To protect what he cares for.

"Please," he mutters helplessly, turning his head slightly to look over his shoulder at you. He fears if he looks at you fully, he might crumble into a million little pieces, "I'm trying to protect you. Let me at least do that. Please. Go back inside."

"Draco?" Your voices brings him out of his daze, his eyes landing on yours. A kindness had dwelled within them since you were children; a kindness that, even after all he's done, still shines through and touches his skin like warm sun. He stares back for a long while, not fully understanding why you still came to visit him. More than two months since the war ended, since his family faced trial after trial and escaped with their dignity hanging by a mere thread. He hadn't heard from the others; Blaise, Pansy, Goyle. Not that he particularly cared. It appeared they would have rather saved what reputation they had left than mingle with fellow betrayers like himself.

He can't say he blames them.

"Are you okay?" you ask him, brushing some of his white-blond hair from his face, "you can talk to me, you know. I'm here for you."

"Why?" he simply asks, and you almost look surprised at the question.

"Because you're still you, Dray," you whisper, a ghost of a smile at your lips, "many things have happened. I know now why you couldn't talk to me about... well, everything. But you can now, and I'm here to listen. Please, don't try and battle this on your own."

The warm summer air ruffles the hair around your familiar, comforting face. He thinks that someone up there might not think so bad of him, to keep you coming back even when he's troubled you more than anyone else. A slight smile cracks on his face, something you hadn't seen in many, many months. The sight of it almost brought you to tears.

"You know," he says quietly, "I'd have kicked my sorry ass to the curb if I were you. I haven't exactly been kind to you; or anyone, over the last few months. I've done some really fucked up shit. Yet, here you are, drinking my Dad's Fire Whiskey on the roof with me." He shuffles a little closer to you and wraps an arm around your shoulders, as you willingly accept his embrace, cuddling into his warm and familiar body. You liked to believe he was still in there, the real Draco. The one that sometimes, unknowingly, allowed you to see little glimpses into his life. He's a collector of sorts; not like his father, but in a more sentimental and valuable way. Many a time have you caught him putting a rather nice looking pebble in his pocket, thinking no one had seen him take a shine to such a trivial thing. He enjoys the piano, and although he never plays for anyone, you had caught him mid song one summer during a visit to his home. You can still hear him scold you for sneaking up on him and making you swear not to tell anyone. He reads - not your typical story books or novels, but educational books about Astrology and Alchemy. Sometimes, when you had met in the library, he'd been so invested in a book, his eyebrows pierced together and a look of pure concentration on his face, that he hadn't noticed you standing beside him until you nudged him slightly. Another scolding, but something about the way he grumbled that he was 'just passing the time because you took so long' had you convinced there was no malice in it whatsoever.

Draco never had a heart of gold. He was never a shining example of friendship, or the best at expressing his feelings, or had the best attitude towards things he found unbefitting of him. Throughout the years you had argued about his mean streak, about his nature towards certain students, but as if joined at the hip, you had remained close, and his brashness was ever so slightly tamer with you. His words weren't as sharp, or as jarring, and he often made a point of saying 'if you go, I will' or 'as long as you think so.' Despite his blooming admiration for you, he still remained a little hesitant to treat you completely different.

And he was still in there. You were sure of it. He was in there - the Draco you had come to love.

"I wouldn't be a very good friend if I did that, would I?" you say lightheartedly, and you feel him squeeze you a little tighter, "you will get passed this Draco. You will heal; inside and out, and you will go out into the world and make a good name for yourself. You will make yourself proud - it doesn't matter about anyone else. Just do what's right for you."

He ponders for a moment, stroking your hair gently, calming himself as he leans his chin on the top of your head. The world made no sense; his place in it seemed none existent, but as if a small glimmer of hope had pierced his heart, he starts imagining the future.

"Do you think they'd have me?" He then asks you, and you pull back slightly to look up at him.

"Who?" You say.

"The Aurors," he then responds, matter of fact, "do you think they'd... accept someone like me."

"You want to be an Auror?" You say excitedly, and his heart, for the first time in a very long time, begins to feel lighter at the look on your face. All this time and you're still the prettiest girl he'd ever laid his eyes on. He shrugs and looks away.

"I dunno, I was just thinking out loud," he said, fingers still playing with the ends of your hair. Then he laughs, a shallow and bitter laugh, "like they'd want me. Imagine me showing up to help someone - they'd asked for someone else. It'd be fucking joke."

"It might not be," you say in all seriousness, "why does it have to be like that? As much as you may think things are set in stone, they are not, Draco. You decide how the future goes. You decide what happens from now on. If it starts that way then change their minds. Your past does not define you. It's what you do, how you learn, that does."

"Sure you don't want to be a therapist or something?" He jokes lightly, and you giggle. Draco truly believes that something holy keeps you around a mess like him. Once Voldemort's threat was over, you were the first person at his door. The first and only person to check on him. A ray of light in the deep, dark hole he was falling into.

"I've made up my mind," your giggle comes to a holt, and you look at him with a sheer determination sparkling in your eyes, "it's time for you to do the same, Dray."

The reception he received was nothing short of foul. Minister Shacklebolt treated him the same as any other new recruit, but his fellow Auror's did not feel so welcoming. He mainly stuck by you throughout the training phase, and kept his distance from Potter and Weasley. There were whispers, odd looks and uneasy feelings, but with your guidance, he found himself at the Ministry. After the first year, he had become accustomed to people's shock once they saw him, and even more so from how tolerable he can be when he wanted. Sometimes he even made little jokes about it, and your heart soared at the difference in him. The higher ups soon discovered his talents and willingness, and his career, much like your own, began to blossom.

So, when you barge into Potter's office ten years later, raging about the travesty in the foyer, he thanks Merlin, Salazar and anyone who'll listen when you grace him with that same presence he finds himself missing like a limb when you're not around. An Auror in his own right, a gifted and talented wizard who's knowledge in Occlumency had boded well in his profession, a better man, but still the same whiny, mischievous Malfoy he's always been. He may be a dashingly handsome young man, but his childish ways, short temper and bad attitude never quite left him - and yet he's your heart and solace all the same.

Harry may have saved his life, but without a shadow of a doubt, you saved his soul.

disclaimer: i do not own harry potter or any of the characters or storyline associated with it

[endomentendo]

Happy birthday, my fellow critter enjoyer!!! I hope you have a wonderfully lovely birthday and get all the slugs you deserve!! :]

It’s the best of birthdays I’ve had! ❤️

[jcbbby]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME, a gift for everyone! It's a little Caleb Sykes ficlet! Enjoy. :) (I have a longer fic still in the works, btw. This is just a fun lil one off.)

“Give me a whiskey. Double.” Caleb’s deep, gruff voice barked at the barkeep as he sat down at the counter.

The man behind the bar nodded, reaching for a glass and the bottle. A wet popping sound followed by the glug of the pour was music to Caleb’s ears after a long day of travel. He had been riding across the sprawling wilderness for days, sent by his brother to attend to business for the family. There was a matter of debt owed to the Sykes, something that not only were Caleb’s skills and tactics best suited for—but intimidation was something that Caleb reveled and excelled in.

Caleb took his hat off, inspecting it briefly. He brushed a spot of dirt off the brim, setting it down next to him on the counter.

“That’ll be 25.” The bartender set the glass of whiskey in front of him.

Caleb eyed it suspiciously, glaring up at the young barkeep. “This look like double to you? It don’t look like it’s worth even 15 to me.” He growled.

“Well, I-“

Caleb stood up, moving his coat to flash the pistol on his hip. “Now, I’d think real carefully about what you say next.”

The barkeep swallowed harshly, nodding once as he reached again for the bottle. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” He poured another couple glugs into the glass. “On the house.” He chuckled nervously.

Caleb glared, forcefully taking the glass in his hand and taking a swig. He spun around in his chair, leaning his back against the counter of the bar. Surveying the inside of the saloon, his eyes fell upon the unlikely pairing of a young brunette seated awfully cozied up to an older, larger gentleman.

He drank as he watched on, the brunette giggled and twirled her hair, raising a glass of ale up to his sweat-glistened lips almost forcefully. The man chuckled heartily, obviously drunk on the ale and seemingly drunk on this woman. Caleb noticed her hand inching closer to the man’s small satchel of coins, tied to his belt loop. He smirked to himself, quickly realizing what was unfolding in front of him.

The woman extended a small switchblade from the hand, distracting the man by pressing herself against him as she swiftly sliced the roped tying the bag to him. Caleb took another swig of his whiskey, chortling into the glass. Impressive, he thought.

“If you could excuse me, honey. I just want to freshen up for a minute in the powder room. Don’t you go anywhere, okay?” The woman giggled, running a finger along the man’s plump cheek.

As the woman turned around, her smile and bubbly demeanor quickly fell. She made her way toward the back of the saloon, but instead of entering the women’s lounge, she took a sharp turn, scurrying out the side door. Through the window, he watched her slink around the back corner of the establishment. He slugged the rest of his glass of whiskey back, reaching for his hat. He knew he couldn’t let this girl go.

The young woman smirked to herself, plopping down against the back wall of the saloon.

“Too easy, as always.” She chuckled to herself, working to untie the purse and count her haul.

The last several years of her life had been spent on the move, thieving; her only means of living. The comforts of home had evaded her since she was a little girl. Orphaned at the age of 10 due to Typhoid fever, all she knew was survival. She had spent some time in an orphanage, which was a horrible existence. It was overcrowded from children who survived attacks in the Apache Wars and run by strict clergy members. She learnt to steal and fight during her time there, lest she go hungry or be intimidated by the other children but was kicked out at 14 to make room for more. Since then, she had been making her own way, by any means she could.

Caleb quietly approached, rounding the corner at the back of the building.

“Well,” he chuckled. “That was mighty impressive.”

The girl quickly reached for her knife, holding it out in front of her. “Back off.”

Caleb sighed. “Woman, hasn’t anyone ever told you not to bring a knife to a gun fight?” He flashed his pistol, smiling wickedly.

The girl huffed. “You gonna kill me over a few coins?” She tossed the small purse towards him, it landing and spilling at his feet. “Fine then, give it back to your chowderhead friend.”

Caleb bent down to pick the money up. “Oh, I’m not with him, no. And I’m not gonna kill you, darlin’. No, see… I could use a girl like you.” He smirked.

“I ain’t no prostitute, mister.” She scowled.

He chuckled. “No, you certainly ain’t, are ya?”

“You sayin’ I’m too ugly?” She came to her feet, brow furrowed, offended.

Caleb let out a full-belly laugh. “My god, you sure are a feisty one! No, woman, I’m just tryin’ to tell ya I’m impressed with your skill. I watched you hustle that man in there. I think we’d make a great team, you and me.” He handed her the coins.

She slowly took the bag from him, sizing him up for a moment. “Yeah? And who are ya?”

“You familiar with the Sykes family?”

Her eyes widened slightly. “You’re a Sykes?”

He smirked. “The name’s Caleb. And you?”

She took a beat before answering. “Violet.”

Caleb smiled. “Mighty pretty name for a pretty face. Violet what?”

Violet shook her head. “Just Violet. I ain’t got no family, and I ain’t got no family name. I ain’t got nothing.” She tucked the bag of coins into an inner pocket on her jacket.

“Well, you want somethin’?” He smirked.

She looked up from securing her pocket. “Like what?”

“How’s about you come with me, and we can turn those few measly coins into much more.”

“Keep talkin’.” She returned his smirk.

He slowly approached her, his hand reaching up to her cheek. His finger ran along the outside of her cheek and down her jaw. “And maybe…more than money. Maybe a family name to go with it.”

Violet stared up into his piercing blue eyes, icy and deep. To anyone else, they would have been cold and imposing. But to her, they were inviting. She didn’t know him, but she swore in his eyes it was like an ocean of promise.

[youroriginalsublimecupcakestuff]

Fem soukoku : when she was found by the sheep , an older member ( either shirase, yuan or someone else) of the sheep gave little chuuya an hair accessory.

As because of her memory problem and the years spent with the sheep, her hairs we're too long and unkempt but she didn't know how to take care of it even if it bothered her.

It became her things as grateful or affectionate civilian or members of the sheep ( especially younger members who didn't fear her for her power ) would gave her an accessory ( it never fail to lift her mood even when she's scolding them and her awed/happy expression when she think that she's alone is cute.)

These accessory are her more prized possession beside her the sheep bracelet ( and later on her hat, chocker and gloves) but when she left the sheep, she left behind more of her precious accessory.

She was only left with a scar, a broken heart and the sheep hair clip that was given to her when she first joined them.

When she lost it after a mission, she put on a brave face and pretended like she didn't need it anymore but hirotsu noticed but she mysteriously found a red ribbon in her office that she didn't dare put on.

Then hirotsu who noticed everything gave her an haidband and others person in the mafia took noticed and will give her gifts ( Verlaine and kouyou ( and sneakily hirotsu even have a rivalry in who could gift her accessory that fit her the more even mori and Elise gave her something.

But the only one who ( officially) gave her nothing was dazai, who would make fun of her to wear those accessory when she keep her hair so short ( or others teasing which let her flustered but she always had her revenge).

Still dazai was the first person that she gave a hair accessory, she picked it with her in mind with her first salary and while she was grumbling all the way about idiotic mackerel who keep their damn hair long when she don't even how to take care of it, she was soft when she put it on her.

When dazai left she left behind her bittersweet feeling, a burning car and she found that one of her fish hair clip that she bought as a joke was missing and have been replaced by the sheep hair clip that she lost when she joined the mafia.

She quickly found that it wasn't a one time occurance ,when she found a slug scrunchy in her room after that she hit a milestone with the mafia, of course she have to gift her something better she will be dead before that she will let dazai win against her in any shape or form but this exchange that let her that dazai was alive and as well as she can be didn't stop at that.

Indeed they also exchanged charm and keychain as well as pins as well as flower hairpin like a peach blossom hairpin on dazai birthday and made stickers wars when dazai came back, she will never admit that she feel happy when she noticed that dazai wore what she gave her.

And she rolled her eyes while secretly having a fond smile when she noticed that the accessory gifted to her by others peoples ( especially it was her subordonate ( or worse her suitors), shirase, Verlaine and mori ) we're replaced by the one that dazai gifted her of course she was apart of this competition why would she think otherwise.

No matter what she wore and in what side she was, dazai was still her childlessly possessive mackerel, she will never admit but she was reassured that she didn't change.

( as for said peoples who gifted chuuya those accessory, they we're made quickly aware that now that she was back , that they would relearn what fear look like if they dared having any though toward chuuya others that platonic ( or make clear to mori san why he should dare to gift anything to chuuya with her filthy hand ( unfortunately she cannot burn what he gave her nor what the others pest who gravitate toward her dog like fly gave her but she can make sure to show the world that she truly know chuuya the best.)

And that even ane-san and hirotsu-san are no match to her when it concern chuuya ( but the ADA ( and even fyodor) who will not miss a rare occasion to annoy dazai joined this competion, so of course she will win , not because she liked chuuya smile when she receive them or because how she look with what she gave her make her heart skip a beat or because of jealousy toward a slug especially when the poor yosano-sensei who should get her eyes checked say that chuuya's looked cute which make her feel a rare anger that she only feel when it concern chuuya no it's just because of her pride as a dog owner.

[sincerely-sofie]

Sofie's Belated Reactions to Today's Nintendo Direct:

Mario & Luigi: Brothership

I'D KNOW THOSE CRIES OF TERROR ANYWHERE

BEES

LOOK AT MY BOY GO!!!!! YOU MOMENTARILY DEFY THOSE GRAVITIES MAN!!

Wasn't sure about the visuals for the new Mario & Luigi game but they very swiftly grew on me!

ADORABLE CHILD CONNIE I LOVE YOUR HAT

I already love the Extension Corps mini boss squad

"Brothership" is the best title for a Mario & Luigi game oh my word.

(More below the cut!)

Nintendo World Championship: NES Edition

Neato! Nintendo-sanctioned online speedrunning competitions is not something I expected in this Direct, or at all, but I'm happy to see it!

This is reminding me of my goal to speedrun the first Luigi's Mansion game and see what my personal best is... I gotta do that sometime.

Fairy Tale 2

I don't go here but I'm happy for all you Fairy Tale enthusiasts out there!

FANTASIAN: Neo Dimension

WHOA WHOA WHOA did the announcer just say the creator of Final Fantasy created this game??????

I don't go here either but it looks fun!

Nintendo Switch Sports (free update)

MIO: Memories in Orbit

I'm digging the visuals for this!!! Not sure what I'm looking at, but I like it!

OH??????? RAIN WORLD-ESQUE ROBOT CHARACTER????? I'M LISTENING OuO

I absolutely adore this player character design oh my word

THE ENVIRONMENTSSSSSS OH MY GOLLY GEE WILLICKERS

NINTENDO YOU CAN'T JUST SHOW ME THIS TRAILER WITH NO COMMENTARY AND DROP A RELEASE WINDOW WITHOUT ANY FURTHER COMMENT. I NEED TO KNOW MORE.

Disney Illusion Island (free update)

Not many thoughts here other than I absolutely LOVE the pin connecting mini game idea.

Hello Kitty Island Adventure

OH MY GOSH HI HELLO KITTY HIIIIII

There's a Sanrio game with character customization????? EXCUSE ME??????? MY SANRIO-SONA IS PENDING YOU GUYS.

WHERE is Tuxedo Sam. WHERE is My Melody. WHERE are my children.

THERE THEY ARE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Nintendo this can't launch next year, I need it NOW

Looney Tunes: Wacky World of Sports

Oh they had to get people's attention for this with Lola Bunny, huh

The lineart effect being blurred and pixelated in places even in the trailer does not bode well in my eyes (they are the eyes of someone playing Pokemon Scarlet)

It's a fun cartoony idea for a party game though! I like it!

Among Us (free update)

No comment beyond I still have never played a game of Among Us. I don't know if I could survive a public lobby.

Farmagia

OH MY WORRRRRRRRD

Digimon / Pokemon / Harvest Moon / Stardew Valley / Ooblets combo punch of a game I LOVE YOU

WATERING CAN NOSE GUY I LOVE YOU

IT DROPS IN MY BIRTHDAY MONTH GUYS

Donkey Kong Country Returns HD

I'm sorry everyone but I hate monkeys and apes and I don't like Donkey Kong or anything to do with him ;w;

Dragon Quest III HD-2D Remake

INSTANTLY IN LOVE WITH VISUALS FOR THIS. I AUDIBLY GASPED SEEING THEM AND SENT MY BOYFRIEND INTO A FIT OF GIGGLES

In a perfect world, all HD remakes of 2D games would look like this photo-bashing beauty instead of uncute 3D adaptations (side-eyes the Diamond and Pearl remakes)

I think I might enter the series with this game, or maybe 1 or 2 when they launch. I LOVE THE VISUALS.

Funko Fusion

Exclaiming that I hate this game and then listening in shock and horror as my boyfriend tells me there's two or three other Funko Pop games on Switch

Bonding over our shared distaste for Funk Pops with my boyfriend right now. This is true romance.

Luigi's Mansion 2 HD

Seeing the tagline "Spooky, Silly, and Strategic" and PRAYING it's the Luigi's Mansion 2 HD's launch trailer

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH

The New Denpa Men

Got jumpscared by the Denpa Men character and immediately fell in love.

Unironically adore the character design of Denpa Men. I gotta get this thing.

Metal Slug Attack Reloaded

I'd rather play Battle Cats. Sorry guys.

Darkest Dungeon II

I have no words, only polite applause as I wait for the next drop to enthrall me.

Switch Online Expansion Pack

I miss the Four Swords companion manga!!!!! I loved that thing!!!!!!

"AND" says the announcer, followed by a black screen and dead silence, causing me to burst into laughter.

Phantom Brave: The Lost Hero

*gets yeeted offscreen* AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA---

I like the eye designs in this! Very fun!

Marvel VS. Capcom Fighting Collection: Arcade Classics

My dreams of learning a fighting game and getting really good at it... they are returning........ I gotta main Peach on Smash Bros...........

Learning about fighting games and the concept of infinites from my boyfriend and feeling myself wither at the realization it's just a matter of reaching your infinite before your opponent in order to win.

Super Mario Party Jamboree

Boyfriend exclaimed in utter glee when this little guy came on screen and I got to hear about how much he likes them!!!!! My man is adorable!!!!!!!

I gotta get this...... I've never played Mario Party before and I need to main Goomba or Shy Guy.............

Learning about the legacy of Mario Party 4 from Boyfriend and I'm utterly enraptured

The Legend of Zelda: Echoes of Wisdom

THE LEGEND OF LINK EVERYBODY!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I finally can play Zelda for the first time since Spirit Tracks!!!! And it'll be for realsies this time!!!!!

I LOVE THIS GUY I LOVE THIS I LOVE THIS GUY I WAS GENUINELY SPEECHLESS WHEN I SAW THIS GUY I LOVE YOU LITTLE GUY I LOVE YOU

I'm playing this game for Tri oh my word. The gameplay mechanics are amazing but Tri is the number one reason I'm gonna play and fall in love with this game

I love how this game is so much more strategic than straight-up combat focused!!!! We're playing Zelda mode lads!!!!

Putting September 26 on my calendar POST-HASTE

Just Dance 2025

Lego Horizon Adventures

Lego adaptation of Playstation and Window exclusive video game supremacy!!!!!

Stray

MY BABY BOYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!! THE KITTY MAN!!!!!!!!

I've already played this but I'm so happy it's getting an adaptation for Switch!

Tales of the Shire

I still need to read Tolkien's works so bad ;w;

Not going to play this most likely, but I enjoy the idea of a cozy LotR game regardless!

Ace Attorney Investigations Collection

*SCREAMS LOUDLY*

YOU CAN SWITCH BETWEEN THE NEW ART AND THE ORIGINAL PIXEL ART???????? I'M SOLD

The Hundred Line - Last Defense Academy

Squinting during the whole trailer while trying to figure out if it's made by the team who made Danganronpa

I WAS RIGHT

Romancing SaGa 2: Revenging of the Seven

Boyfriend and I just share a Look because we're bored

Metroid Prime 4 Beyond

MARBLE TRACK SAMUS GO WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Boyfriend and I are weeping and wailing at how this game looks compared to Scarlet and Violet

Conclusion

TLOZ ECHOES OF WISDOM BEST GAME Y'ALL!!!!!!!!

[caramel-covered-apples]

draco malfoy

let’s all take a moment to appreciate that today is draco malfoy’s 44th birthday :)

have some draco malfoy headcanons i found to celebrate:

my man is bisexual. i don’t care what you say.

after the war, draco becomes a healer and is one of the best in london

he’s a rainbow baby (if you don’t know what that means, it means a baby born after a miscarriage or death of an infant at birth)

hates coffee, would rather drink tea

enjoys gardening

the only one who knows all of his mistakes and problems canonically is astoria

this man loves his wife and gets her flowers; astoria is his wife and his confidant in the canon, not some baby machine for a mlm ship

when scorpius is born, he immediately enrolls this child in piano, ballet (because ballet draco is a hill i will die on), and like 10 other rich people activities

helped a lot of slytherin kids with their homework because no other house and their kids would let him near the younger kids

bonds with luna during his school years, and he never once called her loony

despite remus being a werewolf, he holds a lot of respect for the man, and remus tried to teach him how to cast his patronus, but draco simply didn’t have enough happy memories to draw on

ever since then, his d.a.d.a classes with remus were always the most interesting and exciting

alcohol scares him; being out of control of your body is one of his greatest fears, and the memories of his father when he was younger

taken from a tumblr post (https://www.tumblr.com/dracomalfoyheadcanons/126669828985/genderqueerdraco-who-wants-a-draco-malfoy?source=share) draco tells all the first years what halls to avoid, what candies are safe and what other ones will cause you to sneeze slugs, etc.

muggle films amaze him, but a 3D film with those glasses actually scared the shit out of him

lemon & blueberry sweets are perhaps his favorite, although the flavors by themselves are good too

his amortentia scent scared the literal shit out of him. idk what the scents are i just like to think that it scared him because he didnt expect it whatsoever

his “but why is that?” phase when he was a kid was pure hell

loves doing nails, not even painting them, just cutting them and filing them down and pushing down their cuticles but he also does painting too

[astralspen]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHUUYAAAAAAA

OK SO I HAVE A FIC FOR HIS B-DAY BUT I PROBABLY WONT BE ABLE TO GET IT FINISHED AND POSTED TO AO3 UNTIL LIKE TOMMOROW OR WEDNESDAY SO ILL GIVE EVERYONE A LIL SNIPPET FOR OUR BIRTHDAY BOY

Now, normally, Dazai was never into celebrating. But today, oh today was different. Today, it was Chibi's birthday. Dazai had decided to skip work for the perfect chance at getting under the slugs skin today. He could deal with Kunikidas complaints on missing work pretty much all of last week tomorrow. He went into a brightly colored and well lit shop, and as swiftly as he came in, he was gone with a white plastic bag now in tow. He looked particularly cheery walking on the sidewalk, and he enjoyed his peaceful little stroll all the way to Chuuyas house. The closer he got, the more excited he became. He couldn't wait to see the slugs face when he barged into the orange haired man's apartment, and especially the face said man would make at the wonderful gift he was going to get.

Dazai had gotten to the door and then entered the pin to get in. Silly Chibi, never changing the lock code after all these years. He busted through the door, though he didn't break it this time. He would be a little courteous today, considering the date and all. Though, when Dazai didn't hear an angry slug yelling, or even him running over to the door to see what the noise was, he became a little confused. Was Chuuya really not off today? He thought that Koyou had convinced him to take the day off. Maybe it didn't work? But if that was the case, then why were the extra locks on the door not turned on?

“Chibi~ Where are you~ it's rude to hide from your owner you know!”

…

No reaction? Did something happen? Dazai finally actually stepped into the apartment, and carefully closed the door behind him. Then, cautiously, he looked around the apartment for any signs of the little slug. When he glanced over the couch, he saw Chuuya, but something was off.

Sure, he was in his hilariously adorable pajamas, and even wore the pants Dazai gave to him forever ago as a prank gift. The old joke mug was on the table too, but neither of those were really unusual. After all, Dazai had done this on Chuuyas off days before, and this part was actually relatively normal. He had teased Chuuya a lot about using old gifts from Dazai a lot. Nearly every time he visited, in fact. But no matter what, Chuuya still continued to use them religiously. Even on days Dazai stayed over, he would see Chuuya drinking out of the World's Best Dog mug calmly in the morning, see how he changed into those stupid sheep pants every night. No, what was weird was that Chuuya seemed out of it.

He was staring at an old picture in a worn wooden frame, and it was like Chuuya had lost all awareness of the world around him.

Now, that wouldn't do. How was Dazai supposed to sufficiently annoy the Chibi when he was like this? So he walked up right behind Chuuya, making sure to be silent so Chuuya wouldn't notice him and hide the picture. When he saw it, everything clicked. What did Dazai do in response?

He flung his arms around Chuuya from behind of course!

“Chibiiiiii! You can't neglect your owner like this! What's the point of visiting if my dear little dog won't even pay attention to me?”

Dazai had said it in his most sing-song and pouty voice possible. Chuuya had finally snapped out of it. And swung his head back to look at Dazai.

“huh!? What the hell, Mackerel!? The fuck are you doing at my place!”

“Your hat must have finally eaten your brain if you hadn't realized what day it is! Why wouldn't I visit my dear dog on such a special day~”

“stop calling me your fucking dog! Of course I didn't forget what day it is! I just thought you had the sense to remember that I don't fucking celebrate it. Did the agency finally make you lose all your damn sense?”

“Chibis so mean! I even bothered to get you a present, and you still bully me!”

There, Chuuya had finally put the picture down on the table.

“I swear to fucking God if you got me a replacement for that dumbass slug shirt I'm throwing you out the damn window.”

“Rude! I would never reuse the same joke!”

“Yes the fuck you would!”

“Hmph! Well, either way, I got you something even better!”

This was my first time grabbing a writing snippet so sorry if it starts and ends weirdly TAT Hope you like it though and of course Happy Birthday to our little mafioso!

[geckosoddysee]

I'M A BIT LATE BUT HAPPY 2ND BIRTHDAY VEE NOCEDA!!

Ko-Fi Post

Twitter Post

MY CHILD IS 2 NOW. VEE MY BELOVED GAY LIL' SLUG BLORBO. I'M SO PROUD OF YOU. I'm sorry it's slightly belated but yeah, 2 years ago, Yesterday's Lie premiered. & Vee was officially given her introduction properly & reality was finally based & good because Vee finally arrived.

I love her so much, she's also part of why I was able to find out I'm nonbinary (Her & Masha both helped the most)

She is the best character & I will never forgive disney for fucking over Season 3 & causing Vee to get barely any time to develop more (Out of all the characters, Vee was one of the most fucked over by the shortened 3rd season because it's very apparent she needed more time to properly tell her entire arc.)

One of the most painful but best written episodes of the show.

Happy birthday to the worlds perfect autistic, gay, traumatized & adorable slug. Vee nation rise up.

I will never stop yelling about Vee. She is the best ever. My beloved slug child whom I shall protect with my life.

Yesterday's Lie premiered 2 years ago, & with it, introduced my favorite character. Vee my beloved.

And uh, also I was planning to have more art but I wasn't able to finish more in time & I'm already late so, hey, uh, here's some of the previous Vee art I posted too. I just wanna celebrate my comfort character rn. Bc she means a lot to me & she just makes my autism go brrrrr

[mal-is-tall]

@askbensolo happy 24th birthday, ben!

12.10.29ABY

dear ben solo

happy birthday. congrats on making it this far

i know you and me probably didn't think we'd. like. still be here at this point huh

a lot of people love you. which is hard to believe, i know.

but they do

i know this because it took a lot longer than expected to put this holocard together

anyway. not tryna get all sappy.

hope you have a good year

—a

@askreysolo said: hiiiiiiiii big bro!!! happy bday!!!!!!!!! you are even more ancient nowww!! you know, I always felt like I didn't get that much time with you before you moved away. since you're so OLD and stuff. so it will be fun for you to live at home again!! well...I think it will be fun. try not to be too annoying and weird. anyway HAVE A GOOD BIRTHDAY!!!! from THE coolest little sister ever (Rey!!!)

BENNY BOYYY! The man. The myth. The most legendary wingman of all time. Happy birthday, dude! Not a day goes by that I don't miss seeing your weird-ass face. My last two years at UNaboo sure wouldn't have been the same without you! So sad to hear you're going offworld soon...come back to Naboo sometime! I want to see you eat SIX blue slug-beetles. Love, Treesie boy

Dearest Hope Child/Little Han Solo May The Force Be With You And May You Never Go Bald Looking Forward To Seeing You At Life Day 24 Is A Very Big Number For A Human So I Expect You To Eat Twice As Much This Year With Love Auntie Malla

hey hey hey buddy have a happy bday! beebee-ate says happy bday too thanks for bein our roomie! we're gonna miss you poe (and beebee-ate)

@margindoodles2407 said: Happy birthday, Ben! Here's to another year of survival :) All my best, Margin

Anonymous said: Hey, Ben. Happy 24th birthday. :) I've followed your story for a long time, and kind of grew up alongside you. I know you don't know me at all, but you—and all the things you share—really mean a lot to me. You're a guy with lots of feelings, both good and bad, and I've always really connected with that. I hope you continue writing. Even if you need to take a break sometimes, I hope you keep on checking in with us and letting us know how you're doing periodically. You were 15 when you started this blog, and you're 24 now—I hope I get to know how you're doing in another ten-or-so years. :) Thanks for everything, buddy.

^ look solo it's your favorite guy

in conclusion.

happy birthday ben solo

[prettyinlimegreenboots]

Taking Comfort (In Your Arms) - Chapter 9

September 8, 1934 - 0600 Hours

Addie was frazzled, which wasn’t something she normally admitted. But today was a big day and she wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of her big plans. Grabbing the necessary supplies, including a bag with newspaper stuffed into it, she hurriedly made her way from the hut, hoping to catch Bucky before he left for training. 

Seeing men congregate in front of the mess made her pause. Usually, they were all pushing into the door, their stomachs growling for food. Hearing the cacophony of sound that included her boyfriend’s overexcited voice made her grin. How Bucky Egan was this wide awake at 6am, God only knows? 

“Who put a quarter in your boyfriend?” Buck slid up next to her mumbling while a yawn escaped. “He woke the hut up at 0430, singing loudly while the boys threw pillows and other items at him.” 

Addie giggled, trying to envision the scene. “It’s his birthday, you know. And if you think John Egan normally is a pain in the ass - I’m guessing that’s going to be tenfold today.” 

“Luckily you have that big surprise up your sleeve.” Buck smirked. 

Addie watched Bucky sing and dance into the mess hall, knowing no one would shoot him down on his birthday. “Does he suspect anything?” 

Buck quickly shook his head, popping a toothpick in his mouth. “Nope. Thank goodness he’s oblivious.” 

“Thank goodness indeed. See you inside?” Addie nodded her head, giving Buck a grin before ducking into the mess hall. 

Just inside the doorway, she scanned the room. Men were scattered everywhere but her eyes lit up when she found Bucky, standing near a table towards the back, with DeMarco and Blakely at his side. He was scanning the room as she made her way towards him. 

“There’s my girl.” If his smile could have gotten bigger it would have. He immediately pulled her into his arms, swaying slightly as he kissed her. “Good morning, beautiful.” 

She pulled back, a bright smile on her face. “Good morning and happy birthday. Heard you woke everyone up at 0430. Just couldn’t wait to get your birthday started, huh?”

“You know what they say? Early bird gets the worm.” He chuckled, just as Buck and Brady came up to the table, both wishing Bucky happy birthday. 

“Glad to see you’re in a better mood, Buck.” Raising an eyebrow in his best friend’s direction, Bucky grinned. 

Taking a seat, Buck gave him a look of disbelief, shaking his head. “I apologize for throwing a pillow at you this morning but waking up to an offbeat performance of Blue Skies wasn’t not in my plans.” 

Addie snickered, causing Bucky’s head to whip in her direction. “You’re supposed to be on my side.” 

“Usually, I am but if you woke me up with an offbeat performance of Blue Skies, I’m with Buck on this one. You’d get a pillow in the face as well.” Addie shrugged, as Buck high fived her, causing pout to cross Bucky’s face. 

Plates were distributed around the table as the boys sat. Muffled conversations floated around them. Addie laughed, listening to Bucky grumble under his breath, taking a seat. Shaking her head, she placed the bag on the table in front of him. “Will this help bring you out of your grumpiness?” 

“You got me a present?” His eyes lit up as she took her own seat, nodding and motioning him to open it. 

Taking out the newspaper she used as filler, he placed it on the table before peering into the bag. Taking out a piece of poster board that had been folded a few times, he unfolded it to see scribbles of happy birthday wishes from almost everyone on base. “How?” 

“It was in my office, and everyone came by to sign it. You are one beloved person, Egan.” Addie smiled, watching his eyes scan the makeshift card, laughing a few heartfelt wishes. He reached over and slugged Buck playfully at his well wishes. “Meatball even signed it?” 

DeMarco laughed. “Don’t ask Addie how long that took when she had an artist in her back pocket that would have happily drawn a footprint. Nope, had to do it the hard way.” 

“Meatball is part of the family and needed to have his footprint signature on Bucky’s card.” Addie argued, glaring at DeMarco. 

“They’ve been having the same argument for the last few days.” Crosby came up to the table, dropping his plate, looking between DeMarco and Addie. “Happy Birthday, Bucky.” 

Bucky nodded at him, before looking between Addie and Demarco. “I like the personalized touch Meatball added to the card. Thank you.” He stole a quick kiss from Addie, placing the card aside to continue to see what was in the bag. 

Pulling out a wrapped present, he placed it on the table, slowly tearing back the tape. “Who knew Egan liked to take his time opening presents?” 

Glaring up at Blakely, Bucky shook his head, shooting him a one finger salute, continuing to carefully unwrap the paper. “Maybe I want to read the news after I’m done opening this, you doodoo. Besides, I'm savoring the experience.” 

As he unwrapped the present, a gasp escaped his mouth as he looked the book over. Somehow Addie had managed to find a book about the New York Yankees. “Bluebird, this is great.” 

“You can’t stop talking about the Yankees so figured you might like to read about them as well.” She grinned, watching him flip through the book. 

Placing the book on the table, he leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Thanks Addie.” 

“There’s one more thing in there for you, John.” She winked at him. 

A gasp tore from his mouth as he clutched the item, eyes widened as he looked at it. “How? These things are highly coveted.” 

“What did you get, Bucky?” “Show us.” The cacophony of sound from the boys caused her to smirk. 

“It’s a complete set of 1933 Goudey Baseball Cards.” He flipped through the stack of them, looking up at Addie. “How? Where?” 

“Charlie collected cards for a bit and knew that these were quite rare and popular. When I saw them in a store in Norwich, I knew you would love them.” She grinned as the boys crowded closer to him to see which cards he had gotten. 

Addie sat back in her chair, satisfied her gift had gone over so well. She started eating her breakfast, getting lost in her thoughts.  She had been nervous to give him the presents, especially since he did so well with her birthday. She was knocked out of her thoughts as he laced his hand with hers and gave it a squeeze. Bucky looked over at her with a smirk, stealing a piece of bacon off her plate. “Birthday off to a good start?”

He winked, grinning. “The absolute best. Now if only I could get out of the training and spend the day with you.” 

“Hmmm don’t see that happening so good luck with that.” She smirked, knowing if he put his mind to it, he could get out of it. 

“What’s your day look like, Bluebird?” He dropped his voice, watching his boys go through his baseball cards. 

Sighing, she gave him a look. “Not as fun as yours. I’m in back to back meetings all day.” 

“Boo. That’s no fun.” He protested, leaning in closer to her. “Thank you for my presents. I love them.” 

Squeezing his hand, she tilted her head, pressing a kiss to his lips. “You’re welcome. Happy you like them.” 

“I do but love them because they came from you.” He whispered back. 

“Smooth talking Egan.” Blakely cracked up ruining the quiet moment between them. 

Bucky glared at him, rotating his watch to look at the time. “Five minutes boys then we got training to get to.” 

Dropping her hand, Bucky tucked his presents back in the bag, pushing away from the table to stand.  Offering her his hand, she slipped her hand as he helped her to her feet. They made their way out of the mess hall, stepping out into the bright sunshine as Bucky walked her over to the side of the building.  He leaned against it, pulling her into his arms as his arms wrapped around her waist. She linked her arms behind his head, stepping onto her tiptoes to kiss him. “Date later after dinner?” 

“What did you have in mind?” She raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his suggestion. 

He hummed, stealing another kiss. “A blanket, you, me, and the crickets?” 

“Cake?” Addie suggested as his eyebrows raised, nodding. “If you can whip up a cake, sure, I’d love cake.” 

She nodded. “I will attempt to whip up a cake for you.” 

“Come on Bucky. Don’t want to be late.” Buck yelled, giving the two of them a look. 

“Have a great day, handsome. I’ll see you later at dinner.” She promised, kissing him, pushing him in Buck’s direction. “Have some fun today.” 

He saluted her, walking away. She grinned, watching Buck throw his arm around Bucky’s shoulder, running his hand through Bucky’s hair roughing it up. The two squabble as they made their way to the training rooms.  Watching them walk through the door, Addie looked at her watch, sighing. She had a lot to do before the boys were released from training later that morning 

1015 Hours

Leaning against the jeep, she watched the boys stumble out of the training rooms with shouts and glee from being released. They quickly made their way to wherever they needed to go, leaving her alone to wait for Bucky to arrive. 

“Everything set up?” Buck snuck up to her side with his normal quiet tone, causing her to jump while he cackled at scaring her. 

“You need a bell, Cleven.” Attempting to slow her racing heart, she kept her eyes on the door. “Yes, everything is already there. Josie and I took everything to the field while you all were in training. You and the boys will get there at 1100 hours?” 

“We’ll be there. Are you good to keep him busy for the next hour?” Buck wiggled his eyebrows up and down in anticipation. 

Addie reached over and slapped him, causing him to yelp while Bucky pushed his way through the door. “You and I are fighting Buck Cleven. Get out here before he suspects something.” 

“Just asking the important question, Addie. You can’t fault me for that.” Buck yelled back, walking away from her as she chuckled. 

Bucky stepped up to her, looking around. “Hi, you. You okay?”

“Hi yourself. Good - your best friend is a menace, nothing new. How was training?” She asked, watching him run a hand down his face at her words. 

Lacing his hands with hers, she gave it a squeeze. “Long. I know we have to do this, but it just gets redundant. It was harder today with the especially nice weather we are having and no one wanted to be inside.” 

“Well, you’re done for the day, right?” She inquired as they started walking back towards the barracks and tower. 

Sighing, he shook his head. “We got training again at 2 - some field where we’re going to do weapons training.” 

“Sounds ominous.” She grinned. “Might have to join you all for that training. Maybe I’ll put you all to shame with my own training.” 

Bucky’s eyes went wide at her words. “My girl knows how to shoot?”

“You thought with my father and Charlie both in the service that I wouldn’t know how to shoot, now did you?” She teased. “Of course, I know how to shoot and I bet I could shoot better than you.” 

Bucky threw his head back and laughed. “Of that, I have no doubt.”  

They continued their walk, each lost in their own thoughts. Squeezing his hand, Addie looked up at Bucky who had a crease on his forehead. “What’s going on in your head, Bucky?”

“Something’s going on but I’m not sure what.” He confessed, eyes sweeping the base.

“What do you mean? You know almost everything that goes on around the base.” She grinned at him, expecting him to return the grin. 

Shaking his head, he bit his lip. “Nah, something else is going on. The guys have been much too quiet today.” 

“Are we talking about the same guys? They were crazy at breakfast just like they always are. Did something happen in training?” She inquired, thinking about how the boys that they usually hung around with were awful at keeping secrets, which she assumed that’s why they had been avoiding Bucky the last few days. 

Looking down at her, he tried to smile. “No, nothing happened. Just something is telling me they’re avoiding me.” 

“Maybe they have a birthday secret for you up their sleeve - we all know they’re shit liars.” She joked, raising an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it. Maybe something will happen at dinner.” 

Bucky looked into her eyes, attempting to see if they knew anything. “What do you know?” 

“I know nothing - those goons don’t tell me shit, knowing I would just tell you.” She chuckled. “Besides, who knows what they have up their sleeves? Best just to wait until they reveal it.” 

“You’re right.” He sighed, scrubbing his hand over his face. “Should we go get some lunch?” 

She shook her head. “I have the rest of the day off - Colonel Harding is heading to London. I was thinking of taking a drive. Want to tag along?” 

“Can we make a stop at the barrack so I can drop my gifts off first?” He asked, turning them towards the barracks. 

She nodded, looking out onto the quiet base. Without looking at her watch, she knew the boys would be heading to the field shortly. “Where are you thinking of taking a drive?” 

“There’s a lot of Dickleburgh that I haven’t seen yet. Was thinking of just driving just to drive.” She paused, smiling. “Used to love taking the car out and just driving. Elizabeth, Charlie, and I would pile into the car, Charlie usually driving and whenever we’d get to an intersection, he would ask us left, right, or straight. We’d do that for hours and would eventually get lost and attempt to figure out how to get home. One time we got so lost we had to stop and ask where we were, and we didn’t get home until well after 2200 hours. Mom and dad were so worried they were about to call the police to report us missing.” 

Bucky laughed at that. “Those sound like some really happy memories.” 

“They are. I think about those memories a lot.” She smiled. “Hopefully, we can do more of those random driving trips after we’re back in the US.”

Nearing the barracks, Bucky quickly ducked inside, dropping his presents. He grabbed his baseball hat, throwing it on, walking back outside. “Holy hell.” 

He chuckled at Addie’s words as he stepped up into the jeep she was sitting in. “What?” 

“The baseball hat.” She looked him over. “Didn’t know you would look so good with one on your head.” 

“Noted, Addie likes the baseball cap.” He tapped the side of his head as she laughed, starting the engine. “I don’t get to wear it much but it feels like a piece of home.” 

She shifted the gear of the jeep, looking over him as she started to drive. “Happy memories playing baseball?” 

“My sisters used to play catch with me in the front yard.” He smiled, thinking back on the memory. “There was always a game being rounded up with the neighborhood kids so I was always playing. Usually the Yankees against the Cubs.” 

Speeding down the street, she smiled at the happiness in his voice. “Let me guess, you were always on the Yankees?” 

“I was usually the captain of the Yankees with my buddy Buck being the captain of the Cubs. We were the only two that were constant on the teams, we’d always change up the teams by picking different kids. Hell, most of those boys are probably over here serving. Would be nice to get a pick-up game going.” 

She grinned. “Next day off, you should organize the boys together and get one going.” 

“Would you play?” He was quick to ask, already knowing what her answer would be. 

Laughing, she shook her head. “Nope, don’t have the hand eye coordination required. I suck at batting as well so you wouldn’t want me to play for your team.” 

“Fair enough.” He laughed. “As long as you were there cheering, that’s all I need.”

“Someone has to keep Buck company.” She quipped back, causing him to throw his head back and laugh. 

They continued on their journey through the countryside, passing more houses and farms. But there was something calming as she drove, wind whipping through her hair and him squeezing her hand every now and then. They were the only two in the world at the current moment. 

Flipping her arm over, she saw that it was 1110 and she was right on time. Pulling off a side road, she hit the pedal making them speed up a bit. Bucky being thrown back into his seat at the adjusted speed. “Going a little fast there Bluebird?” 

“We’re going to be late then I’ll never hear the ending of it.” She looked straight ahead, avoiding his wide eyes. 

“Late?” 

Her lips curled into a smile. “Just have a little bit more patience with me, Bucky. I promise you’ll love this.” 

She drove a bit more before seeing the field up ahead on the left. The boys were standing around obviously waiting for something, or someone to arrive. Pulling off the road, she pulled the jeep to a stop, hopping out of it as the boys cheered at their arrival. “You’re late Adelaide.” 

“I told you I would be here with him around 1115.” Rolling her eyes at DeMarco’s voice, she flipped her wrist up, looking at her watch. “And lookie that it’s 1114, which makes me early. He’s here and wondering why we’re standing around.” 

Looking over her shoulder, she grinned at the confused look on Bucky’s face. “Your wish came true.” She motioned behind her. “Twenty five men to play baseball with you. Buck and I will be the cheering squad but you’re a captain along with Blakely.” 

His eyes were wide as he looked around the poorly kept baseball field. “What?” 

“Happy birthday.” She looked around the field and the guys that were standing around. “This is why the boys have been avoiding you and acting squirrely. This is part of your birthday surprise - a baseball game and the afternoon off.”

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her soundly as the boys catcalled and hooted. Pulling back, she pressed her fingertips to her lips as they tingled. “Have I told you how much I love you today?” 

“Nope, you’re failing at that, Major.” She smirked. 

He copped her jaw, running his thumb alongside it. “I love you Adelaide. Thank you for pulling this together.” 

“The boys had the idea, I just orchestrated it and made you think you were in training all afternoon.” She smirked, giving him a nudge. “Go, have fun. I’ll be sitting on the jeep cheering you on.” 

Jumping up on the jeep’s hood, she let her legs hang off as Buck wandered over to her, taking a seat next to her. “He seems surprised.” 

“You all scared him!” She cried, reaching over and smacking his shoulder. Buck’s eyes went wide at both her cry and the slap. “He knew something was amiss but didn’t know what. I asked him to give me a few more minutes of patience just before we pulled in. I had to pull out the line about you all being shit liars, even though we all know you can keep the biggest secret, Buck and no one would know.” 

Buck threw his head back and laughed loudly. “Well thank you for taking one for the team and getting him here in one piece.” 

She smirked. “You’re welcome. You didn’t want to play?”

“Never been good at it.” He confessed. “Would rather watch these ‘professionals’ play. You know Bucky will be in his absolute element for the next few hours.”

Watching Bucky and Blakely discuss teams before having the men line up as they formed their teams. “Oh for sure. Should I tell them we only have four baseballs or let them hit fly balls until we run out?” 

“What’s going to be more entertaining for us?” Buck shot back at her grinning wickedly. 

“Let the balls fly until they run out.” 

Two hours later 

Josie had arrived with sandwiches and cold water for the boys. The game was still in full swing, currently the Yankees were up 6-3 and Bucky was up to bat. Josie had joined Buck and Addie on the jeep, aviators on their faces. 

Addie’s eyes narrowed, watching Bucky step up to the plate, bat high over his shoulder. Blakey, surprisingly a good pitcher, wound up and threw the pitch, causing Bucky to swing and miss. Bases were loaded, DeMarco, Douglass, and Crosby all waiting and watching Bucky. 

She wore under her breath, lacing her hands behind her neck. “Come on Bucky.”

Bucky smacked the gum he was chewing, throwing her a grin, getting back into batter’s stance. Blakey threw another pitch, this time his bat hit the ball with a crack, sending it into the far outfield.  Addie grinned, jumping to the ground with a shrill whistle. “Great hit Bucky.” 

Watching him round the bases, Addie whistled watching him stop on third as the other boys ran in for runs. 9-3 and the Yankees were winning. 

Before long, Blakely’s team had caught up and the score was 9-7. Bucky was providing commentary as he stood on the sideline, his team on the field. “Big man himself, Everett Blakely, hails from Elgin, Illinois. He’s had some big plays today already, but can he hit himself a homerun and win the game for his boys. DeMarco winds up and throws a strike right down the middle.” 

“Bucky, shut up!” Blakely hollered back, looking over his shoulder at the grinning Major. “You’re ruining my concentration.” 

“High pressure situation, Blakely.” Bucky called back, utter amusement in his voice. “You going to show up for your boys or will the Yankees once again be victorious.” 

Addie shook her head at her boyfriend’s taunts. The game had been a lot of fun to watch, each side ribbing each other naturally. Everyone was easy-going for the most part, just glad to be out of training and outside enjoying the rare England sunshine. 

“Are you nervous?” Buck looked over to see a grinning Addie staring at him. “Buck Cleven, actually nervous for a game?” 

Buck rolled his eyes, pushing his shoulder into her side. “You know how he’s going to be if his team loses.”

“Nah, I think the high of having a baseball game on his birthday will outrun the outcome.” She looked out, seeing DeMarco wind up before throwing the ball. Blakely’s bat caught an inch of the ball but Douglass quickly caught the popup ball, calling the game to be over. 

Addie watched both teams line up and hit hands, calling a good game to each other. Bucky threw a bit more taunting in while the boys ribbed him.  

“What now?” DeMarco yelled, his arm thrown around Josie’s shoulder before stealing a kiss from her. 

Addie shook her head grinning. “That’s all that was planned. You all have the rest of the afternoon off so don’t go causing trouble or Harding will have my hide.” 

The men saluted her, already making plans for back at base. She heard several calls for a game of poker while others were going to the Officer’s Club for some drinks.  Buck, DeMarco, and Josie hopped into the jeep and yelled that they’d see them back on base. 

Bucky wandered over, throwing an arm around Addie’s shoulder, pressing a kiss to her lips. “Best birthday ever.” 

“Ever?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s some high praises, Major.” 

Bucky nodded. “Ever. Might even have to put that in a letter home to ma when I write to her.” 

“Aww, you write your mom.” Addie looked up at him, eyes shielded by her aviators grinning. 

Bucky scoffed. “You didn’t think I wrote my mother?” 

“I mean I’ve never seen you write out a letter before.” She defended. “Besides, this is the first time you’ve ever mentioned it.” 

His cheeks blushed a little at her proclamation. “I can’t believe I didn’t tell you that I wrote to her. I even mentioned you in a few letters.” 

Addie’s eyes went wide at that. Sure, they had been dating for a while and her family knew about him but she didn’t stop to think that he had mentioned her to his family. “What?” 

Bucky threw his head back and laughed. “You didn’t think I didn’t write to my mother about you, Bluebird? I wrote to her back in May after I found you in that fort and told her that I thought I met my match. Since then she has asked about you in all the corresponding letters. Even my sisters have started to ask about you.” 

She didn’t say anything, letting his words swirl around. He had written to his mother about her. She wanted to know more but was scared to ask. What had he told her? Would he divulge her past and antics? 

Tilting her head up to meet his eyes, Bucky could see the storm raging in them. Her stormy eyes met his concerned ones as a small smile crossed her lips. “You’re worried that she won’t like you?”

“Among other things.” Addie whispered, giving him a look. 

Bucky shook his head, chuckling. “Come on, let’s go back to base. There’s something I want to show you.” 

Taking her hand, he led her to the Jeep, helping her get in before driving them back to base. The entire drive, she was lost in her thoughts about what he had written to his family. She knew Bucky was in love with her but the fact that her past wasn’t all that pleasant might have sat right with others, especially his family. 

She was knocked out of her thoughts as Bucky pulled the jeep to a stop in front the Tower, yanking the keys out. “Meet me at “Our Baby” in like 15 minutes, okay?” 

Addie gave him a look, nodding. She quickly headed back to her barracks grabbing his last surprise before making her way onto the tarmac. Taking a seat under the wheel of the fort, she let her head fall back, lost in thought. Her family loved him - at least Charlie and her father did. She had written Elizabeth about him and in every letter, she wrote back, she inquired about him and just wanted Addie to be happy. In her last letter, Elizabeth mentioned that she couldn’t wait to meet the famous John Egan that both her father and brother couldn’t stop talking about. 

Heavy footsteps drug her out of her thoughts. Looking up, she plastered a smile on her face at the sight of Bucky coming closer to her. He spread out a blanket before sitting on it, patting the side for her to come closer to him. “Come here Bluebird.” 

She moved, settling in beside him. Before she could say anything, he held up a few envelopes. “Letters from Manitowoc, Wisconsin.”

“Bucky, those are your personal letters.” She started, before he shook his head. 

Lacing his hand with hers, he gave it a squeeze. “You’re worried about what they would think - I can tell, so don't lie. So I figured if you saw with your own eyes what they think, that’ll help calm some of that fear and anxiety.”

Taking one of the letters, she opened it, skimming the warm cursive strokes of a pen. Towards the bottom, she picked up the words “she seems like a lovely girl and anyone who can keep up with you is a winner in my book. I cannot wait to meet her.” 

Tears welled up in her eyes at the words. “She can’t wait to meet me?” 

“That’s what she wrote. I told her about you delivering the B-17 from Ratcliff. And you giving me a lecture about keeping us on the download.” Bucky grinned. “Why wouldn’t I write my ma about the girl I love? And hopefully, one day call my wife?” 

Sniffling, Addie looked up at him with tears streaming down her face. “I’m sorry I didn’t think about that. It just took me by surprise when you mentioned you had written to them. You’ve been two-thirds of my family so it’s only fair that you write yours about me.” 

“Trust me, Bluebird, they already love you. They just haven’t met you yet but that will happen just as soon as we win this war and get home.” Bucky promised, leaning over to wipe the tears that had fallen away. 

Squeezing his hand, she silently promised that would indeed happen. “I can’t wait to meet them.” 

“Do you want to read the rest of these?” Bucky held up the other four envelopes grinning. 

Shaking her head, she reached up and wiped away the stray tears. “Maybe later. I have two more things for you.” 

“Bluebird, you’ve spoiled me enough already.” He chuckled, watching her fight a laugh from escaping. 

“Bucky you’re an easy person to spoil.” She held up a box. “This didn’t cost me anything before you started yelling at me.” 

Handing him the box, she watched him pop it open, eyes going wide at the watch sitting in between the velvet. “Bluebird, what’s this?” 

“It was my grandpa’s - my mom’s dad. He served in WWI and when he passed, I inherited the watch. I used to be fascinated by it when we would go visit.” She paused. “I know you have an army regulated one but I thought you might want to wear this instead. I took it into town for a new battery and strap but the sentiment is there. I even had something engraved on the back.” 

Flipping over the watch, he held it up to see the engraving. Forever yours, Addie. “I will cherish it always, Addie. Thank you.” 

Placing the watch back in the box, he closed it, putting it on the blanket beside them. Leaning forward, he cupped her jaw, placing a kiss on her lips before pulling back and placing another on her wrist. “I love you, Adelaide.” 

“I love you too, Bucky.” She whispered, reaching behind her for his last present.  She lit a match, lighting the candle. 

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear John, happy birthday to you.” She quietly sang, holding a Twinkie with a candle in it. “Make a wish, Bucky.” 

Closing his eyes, he made his wish before gently blowing out the candle. “To whatever you wish, may it come true.” 

Watching her take the candle out of the Twinkie, she broke it in half, giving him a piece. As she popped her piece into her mouth, his thoughts turned to needing to get a ring sooner rather than later. 

July 16, 1943, 0900 Hours

“Captain Baker?” Harding yelled from his office as she sighed, pushing back from her desk.  Grabbing a legal pad of paper and a pen, she headed towards his office, peeking in. “Oh, there you are Baker. There’s a plane coming in about 20 minutes - a couple of new pilots that I’d like you to meet and show around the base.” 

“Who am I looking for?” Addie asked, making notes on her pad of paper. 

Handing over a folder, she took it from him before flipping it open, raising an eyebrow. “Robert Rosenthal?” 

“Have you heard of him before?” Harding looked up at her from the document he was reviewing. 

She sighed. “His name came up a few weeks ago in documents I was reviewing. He’s made quite a name for himself, just surprised he came here instead of Ratcliff or London.” 

“We’re lucky to have him.” Harding smirked. “He’ll have his copilot Lewis with him along with Nash, and Speas. Can you show them around and drop them off at the barracks? Let them know about the shindig tonight.” 

Addie nodded. “When is Dye anticipated to be back?”  

“Around 1100 hours. You going to be out there?” Harding asked, dropping the paper onto his desk, leaning back in his chair, giving her a look. 

“Wouldn’t miss it. It’ll be good to see a team reach 25 - we haven’t had that in a while.” She murmured. 

Harding murmured in agreement. Addie gave him another look. “Do you need anything else sir? I’ll go meet them if not.” 

“Nothing right now, Baker. Thank you.” She nodded, retreating from his office, going back to her desk. 

Dropping her pad of paper and folder onto her desk, she grabbed her flight jacket, throwing it on before picking up a set of keys. Nodding to Josie, she took her leave from the tower. Not in a big hurry, she walked down the stairs, breeze ruffling her hair as she slid on her aviators. Running a hand through her hair, she hopped into the jeep, gunning the engine.  Cruising down the runway, she tracked the incoming fort as it landed and navigated towards the hardstand. Following behind it, she pulled to a stop as the plane’s engines came to a silent stop.  Getting out of the jeep, she leaned against it, watching the crews chock the tires as the hatch was thrown open and men started jumping down from the plane. 

“Rosenthal?” She called, pushing herself off the jeep, walking towards them, hand already extended. 

“Yes ma’am. Robert Rosenthal. This is Lieutenants Nash, Speas, and Lewis.” He quickly introduced them, shaking her hand as she shook the other gentlemen. “And you are?” 

“Captain Adelaide Baker, but you can call me Addie. It’s nice to meet you all. If you come along, I’ll give you a quick tour of the base before dropping you off at the barracks.” She smiled, leading them back to the jeep. 

Jumping into the driver’s seat, she watched them all pile in, with Rosenthal sitting beside her. “Welcome to Thorpe Abbotts.” 

“Thank you, Captain. It’s nice to finally do something within the war.” Rosenthal smiled back, tilting his hat in her direction. 

Humming, she started the engine before driving the jeep towards the barrack. “You’ll do something alright. Were you all pilots before the war?” 

“No, lawyer.” Rosenthal commented as her eyes went wide. “You?”

“I came over in 41 as an ATA pilot, ferrying forts around England.” She smiled. “Now I’m a secretary for the US Air Force.” 

Rosenthal’s face held about twelve different emotions, none of which she could discern. “That sounds like an interesting story.” 

“It is Rosenthal, and one day I’ll tell you all about it.” She promised, pulling to a stop in front of the barracks. “This is your barracks boys. Three huts down is the mess hall. There’s a party in the officer’s hut, which is back there later tonight - starting at 2000 hours. Hope to see you all there. If there’s anything I can assist with, please don’t hesitate to ask.” 

“Thank you, Addie.” Rosental hopped out of the jeep, grabbing his bag. “And Addie?” 

Raising an eyebrow at him, she smiled. “Yeah?” 

“You can call me Rosie. Rosenthal is too much of a mouthful.” He winked, causing her to chuckle at him. 

“Rosie it is.” She chuckled, watching him and the other three duck into the barracks, causing her to shake her head. 

2000 Hours

Walking into the Officer’s Club, she grinned hearing “In the Mood” being played by the band. Her eyes swept the area looking for anyone she knew. Looking towards the bar, she grinned seeing Bucky leaning against the bar. Making her way over to him, his face split into a grin, pulling her closer to him. “Hello there, gorgeous. Haven’t seen you all day.” 

“In and out of meetings and meeting new pilots will do that.” She quipped, looking over at the bartender and motioning him to head over. Placing an order for a Moscow Mule, she stepped closer to Bucky. 

“Meeting new pilots?” He mused, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “I thought I was the only one that got door to door service.”

She chuckled, picking up the glass the bartender had placed on the counter. “You were the first but not the last.” 

“How many pilots came in today?” He asked, taking a sip from his flask. 

Wrapping her arm around his back, she let her hand trail up and down comfortingly. “I picked four up and gave them a nickel tour of the base. Invited them to the fiesta so you’ll meet them at some point.”

“There’s so many new faces around.” Bucky mused, eyes trailing around the room, picking up so many new faces around. “I hardly know any of the new guys.” 

Taking a sip, Addie sighed. “I see names on a roster, but I couldn’t point out who’s who if you gave me names.” 

They fell silent, taking in the scene as they drank, watching couples dance and laughter rang out from around them. Both of them were lost in their thoughts as Buck sided up to them. “You two look like you’re going to a funeral instead of a fiesta. Why the sour mood?” 

“So many new faces around here - don’t know one from the other.” Bucky gave his best friend a look. “It’s almost as if we go down, none of them will remember us.” 

Addie’s eyes went wide at his words. “Bucky . . .”

“It’s true, Addie. Outside of you, would anyone remember us if we went down?” Bucky argued back, shaking his head, taking another sip of whiskey. 

Buck looked between the two. “What does it matter, Bucky? You’re not here to be popular. You’re here to do a job and get home.” 

Running his thumb over his lip, Bucky gave Buck a hard look. “You’re right.” 

“Of course I’m right.” Buck gave him a look before looking over at Addie. “Cheer up Bucky and get out of your head - enjoy tonight. We’re celebrating Dye and his crew.” 

Addie looked at him. “Come dance with me.” 

Leaving their drinks behind at the bar, Addie pulled him out onto the dance floor, arms going around his shoulders as his arms wrapped around her waist. 

They got lost in the music as the dance floor grew crowded with more couples as the music kicked up. A laugh escaped her mouth as Bucky danced wildly with her. After dancing three songs, she pushed him in the direction of his boys while she went to get a glass of water to cool down. 

Standing at the bar, sipping her water, she watched Harding gather the boys around. Narrowing her eyes, she watched Bucky swat the back of his hand to Harding’s chest before watching Harding do it back. She let her eyes trail from Harding and Bucky to Buck, watching his jaw tighten, just in case he needed to step in. 

Harding stepped back, calling over his shoulder. “Single fillies, gentlemen.” 

The boys followed behind Harding, heading towards the dance floor as Buck turned to Bucky, eyes full of concern. “I think you should have the Colonel get you a weekend pass to London.” 

“Mmm . . . you should come, Buck. London. Live it Up.” Bucky shot back, giving his best friend a look. 

Buck shook his head. “Maybe next time.” Pushing off the bar, he crouched down and scratched Meatball’s scruff before picking him up and heading to the dance floor.  Addie smiled, watching the pair dance as Bucky called out, “I’m telling Marge, Buck.” 

Stepping up to Bucky’s side, she slid her arm in the crook of his elbow.  “You need a break, Bucky.” 

“That’s what Buck just told me.” He sighed, running a hand over his face. “I’m going to talk to Harding about a London pass. Will you come?” 

She looked up at him, locking eyes with him. She could see the pleading in them for her to accompany her. “I’m not sure he’ll grant it but I can ask.” 

“You’ll ask?” Bucky’s voice was unsteady as he looked at her. 

Reaching an arm around his waist, she leaned into him, placing a kiss on his lips. “Yes, I’ll ask first thing tomorrow morning.” 

Chapter 10

Thank you for reading! Feedback would be greatly appreciated!

[sweet-honey-tears]

💝Gifts To and From 💝

Hawks x Gender Neutral Reader

💝Part Two💝 FLUFF

Thought I’d continue this but it’s also head cannons for Hawks in general lol. If you want to read part 1, go here! And click here for part 3! And I hope you all enjoy, feel free to leave request or questions. Thank you all for the support. Love you all! 🤍🌸

You’re kept far out of public eye, out of hero life

Hawks is not supposed to really be with you, your a ‘distraction’ or a ‘liability’

“Ya hear that chickadee, the commission says you're a distraction to my work. Well, one hell of a distraction!” Picks you up and just started to twirl you with him when he says it. He fucking loves you.

You're spoiled, whether you want it or not. Man buys you fluffy coats because he thinks it's adorable to watch you drown in the fake fur lining. No animal credulity- you made that quite clear and he doesn’t really like the thought either. Plus they're so big that they can completely cover you from cameras when you’re with him in an outing. The coats are huge, long, and huge. You're completely hidden from everything.

The best shot they(the paparazzi )got of you is a strand of hair peaking from the big hood and the corner of a shoe.

You greet him every time he comes home from a patrol. Arms slug around his neck as he pretty much lifts you up. His wing flutter in happiness, lifting you slightly with him. “There's my chickadee!”

Because no one knows what you look like, you can walk around without any coats or covers when you head off alone. A red health chilling inside your coat pocket, or in a necklace or weaved into your hair. He's always with him and protecting.

Has a thing for coats.

You(i.e. You reading) already know about them as a protector from the media. But they also protect you from the cold.

He likes to pick you up and fly with you and admittedly the altitude makes you shiver intensely. Yeah that’s not gonna fly-(PUN HA)

His Home screen is of you in his hero coat, the long sleeves pooled at your elbow due to the pose you're in. Your hands holding a stuffed animal chicken he got you. Your adorable face peeking out from behind it. A large and bright smile on your face. The crinkle in your eyes makes his heart melt every time he sees it.

If you’re wondering, his lock screen is of a chicken. No-he doesn't love them more then you- but he doesn't want the media getting a glance at his lock screen and seeing you.

Hawks melt everytime he finds you mending his coat. Needles and threads spread over the counters as you try your damn hardest to match the thread color to his jacket.

What do you get a man who can buy everything? The answer is simple. Nothing. You make him something instead.

Hawks comes home to a giant wrapped box. A pink bow on the top. And you, sitting on the table with a excited grin.

“I got you a congratulations gift.”

“For what?” he muses, a bit concerned, confused and hesitate. He just got off a very uneasy meeting with the commission and to say the least, he's on edge- no more like about to fall over the edge. And you noticed.

“Honestly- I just couldn't wait till your birthday, or our anniversary, or whatever else. I'm just- just too excited,” you say calmly, giving him a sweet and reassuring smile. It eases him.

He opens the box and there sits a quilt. A beautiful one. Hand stitched. Home made. Made out of:

Fabric patches of chickens

Fabric Patches of blues, yellows, pinks,orange

There are patches of his old shirts sown into. Ones he wasn't allowed to be seen in anymore(commissions words) due to the worn down look. It made him not look... Not fully Perfect. He liked those shirts but parted with them. Or so he thought. He could see patches of some of the old shirts, the logos or prints, stitched in with other color patches.

He pretty much breaks down.

He loves it. It’s not perfect. There’s messed up stitches and uneven patches. It’s human,it’s flawed. It’s something not perfect in his forced perfect world. He loves it. He fucking adore it so much.

His new Lock Screen is a close up of the quilt. Patch works of chickens running on it are mid screen.

Your Home Screen is of him and you. You’re both hidden in the blanket. It’s like a cave around the two of you, and Keigo looks calm and happy.

[soukokumychildren]

Dazai how is your birthday going??? Do anything special?

Dazai: Hehe

(The rest is now successfully under the cut lol. Also I’m mildly embarrassed about it since this’ll be my first post about smut, and I didn’t exactly finish but it could also count sooo…basically, read at your own peril and have fun y’all)

It was the rustling, not the sunshine, that woke Dazai up from his glorious beauty sleep. It made him crinkle his eyes, hope that came with vain that he could sleep in longer.

It was his birthday, god damnit.

But the rustling was coming from under the sheets laid haphazardly over his body.

He cracked his eyes open after a few attempts, rubbing the opposite of the blinded one in order to see exactly what caused the ruckus.

Naturally, the brunette could tell immediately what—rather *who* it was without having to look beside him.

The weight on his legs and the gentle spikes pricking the fabric upward told him all he needs to know.

“Good morning,” he croaks, leg twitching under the added weight.

Ruffles of fabric against skin, a few flecks of static, and his adorable little chibi husband emerged from the vast canvas that was their white sheet.

His expression was gentle, his gaze softer so.

“Good mornin’,” he said, even *that* was soft too.

“Get some good sleep?”

(Not so) Regrettably, Dazai had. He only slept like a fucking baby when Chuuya was near. Heaven forbid the brunette would get a wink of sleep without his little husband.

“Of course I did, Slug,” Dazai mimicked Chuuya’s tone, keeping his gaze lazy, relaxed. They had no where to be today; well, not in any hurry. No urgent business needing to be taken care of. The president issued them a full pardon off work on todays events, but did say he hoped they’d visit so he could drop Dazai his birthday regards.

“I’m glad.” Chuuya began purring, a soft caress in his throat that thrummed throughout his body and made whatever tense bones Dazai had (which, at this point, was none) unravel into nothing but marrow.

Dazai let himself drink the sight of what Chuuya was in this morning. Ruffled, not yet smooth feathers, hair tossed this way and that like he was just dragged out of bed (yet, somehow, Dazai thought with amusement, not at all ugly), and an expression that bordered on tired.

He enjoyed every moment he existed in Chuuya’s presence.

It brought over his own set of purrs, except his was deep, rumbling. More of a growl, if he was being honest. But it sweetened the scent that emanated from Chuuya’s scent gland, and that was truly all he was after.

“Mind telling me why you woke me—Mph-” Dazai trailed off, his speech morphing into a small groan as lips pushed gently against his, persisting, begging for either him to open his mouth to grant entry, or offer his tongue.

The brunette, not usually a man that gives, coaxed open Chuuya’s mouth with little to no resistance, offering his tongue in turn.

His fingers skimmed Chuuya’s body, all of which was naked except for a pair of boxers, running along his hips, the flex of his muscle underneath his chest, trailing up his neck and then to his head. There, he cradled the base of Chuuya’s skull, engulfing his bandaged hand in fiery-red hair.

“Mmnh—” Chuuya pulled away, panting, with a cute little string of saliva connecting him to Dazai.

“Happy…Happy birthday,” he spoke breathily, the left side of his hair flipped over to the right side of his head, giving a way hotter look than Dazai was sure the little Slug intended.

Not to mention, morning wood was also having a fun time developing, and adding ontop of that with Chuuya’s kisses did nothing to ease the situation.

The redhead flicked his ear feathers upward, jerking his hips. He smiled. “Seems my best friend’s come out to play.” The redhead cooed, working his ass back against the giant erection pressing up against the crack of his ass.

He couldn’t help but bite his lip in anticipation—though this was *Dazai’s* birthday. Not his. So he treats *Dazai*.

Who was right below him…writhing, and accidentally letting out—

A *moan.*

Dazai stilled, slight streaks of embarrassment settling within his body.

“D…did you just…?” The avian asked quietly, blinking owlishly to Dazai. He wasn’t ever one to moan so fast until they got deeper into their antics…this—this was *new.*

||The brunette fumbled over his speech. “I—well, I just…I just woke up, and I haven’t had time to bring up my guard—” Chuuya shushed him with a claw.

“Hey now…I ain’t upset. This is a nice development.” The redhead purred. When Dazai tensed, Chuuya laid against his chest to nuzzle his face in Dazai’s swollen neck glands.

“Don’t worry, Dazai. I know how to take care of you…you know I wouldn’t do somethin’ like that. Remember? You’re *made* to top me.” Chuuya just knew the exact buttons to push to deactivate the wall Dazai brung up from unease. The brunette sighed, letting his body relax again.

“Just relax, baby. Let out those pretty moans…” The avian cooed, grinding gently against Dazai’s fledgling erection. He kissed at Dazai’s neck, Adam’s apple, his jaw line. He especially pressed his lips as his attention to Dazai’s scent glands, which the man particularly enjoyed.

Dazai, despite himself, let out breathy gasps, screwing his eyes shut. His fingers tightened around Chuuya’s scalp, the other hand drawing a scorching trail down to snag his fingers around Chuuya’s delectable, plump ass.

That insistent ass, and the redhead it paired with was just something made to put an end to Dazai, the brunettes low gasps morphing into small moans, the more persistent the grinding was.

“It’s okay, baby. Let go…I’m right here, and I’ll take care of you..” Chuuya promised, flexing his scent glands to flare out more of his scent. He wanted Dazai’s body completely relaxed, teaming with the obvious horny, of course.

The redhead arched his spine enticingly, his limp wings draped on either side of the bed lifting just slightly with. The bed was creaking softly.

“Chuuya,” Dazai said with jostled speech, his pupils dilating as he focused on the one thing he loved most in the world, inhaling that said man’s scent sharply.

“Dazai,” the redhead filled his voice with pure love instead of sin, his quick, almost desperate grinding coming to a slower pace.

“You okay, birthday boy?” Chuuya asked, his body lightly pulsing forward with each stroke of his hips. His wings lightly shuffled, half obscured by the covers.

“Heh. You’re as old as me again.” The redhead murmured to himself as Dazai regained the capability to speak.

“Y-yeah. I’m okay. Mmm, *fuck*, I just want to be inside you already.” Dazai hissed, bucking up a bit to Chuuya’s ministrations. The other hand that occupied Chuuya’s hair skimmed down, approaching Chuuya’s ass to meet up with the hand before it.

“Hey now, hey now…I’m taking care of *you* today..” Chuuya reminded, easing his hands on Dazai’s chest and brushing their noses together in tandem.

“Relax, baby. I ain’t holdin’ nothin’ from ya…you’ll get all you want n’ more today. Alright?”

Dazai’s eyes shined.

“Besides…it’s a holiday.” Chuuya pointed out, wriggling his ass down a little rougher against Dazai’s dick. “Y’know what that means..?”

Dazai’s eyes widened. He smiled wider as well.

“Seriously?”

“Duh~” The redhead grinned.

“Well? Get to opening your present. You have all day to enjoy this, after all.~”

[littlemisssoulful]

Three Random Facts on Each Mr. Men Show Characters Based on My Headcanon!😅

Miss Bossy -

Her favourite food of all times is Apple Cream Pie.

She has fear of dogs due to a traumatic incident since she was a child.

Don’t ever make annoying puns around her as that irritates her.

Mr. Bounce -

He hates balls as he’s often compared to a beach ball.

His favourite style of shoes is boots because his father worked as a cow herder in the past.

He likes to collect candles, quite a surprise!

Mr. Bump -

He actually has blonde hair but covered in bandage due to having a fear of getting head injuries.

He often blame himself for his mother being paralysed as she got paralysed on his and Miss Whoops’ birthday.

He finds rats adorable and would often try to spread the positive light on these rodents.

Miss Calamity -

She loves collecting all styles of earmuffs as it brings her comfort and happiness.

Her favourite colour is pink, especially flamingo pink!

While she loves animals, she seems to have a problem with frogs, despite owning a pet frog.

Miss Chatterbox -

She is actually autistic, but she didn’t know her condition until she was an adult, but many still care for her, no matter what.

She rescued Featherhead when the little lovebird was a baby after being rejected from her mother, and they have a close bond.

She collects succulents and flowers, and she would name them and even have conversations with them.

Miss Curious -

She has dyslexia, but she isn’t dumb as her curiosity shows signs of intelligence!

Her favourite number is 7, but can’t put her finger on why she loves that number so much.

She actually has a fear of knowing nothing!

Miss Daredevil -

She once rescued a baby bull from abuse and named him ‘Hercules’, and even though she would like to keep him, she decided to take him to a place where bulls and cows are looked after.

Her favourite activity when it’s so daring is skydiving.

The helmet she wears was a gift from her father before he retired and passed away from an accident.

Mr. Funny -

He can actually talk, but likes to make funny noises to amuse or annoy others.

His hat is inflatable and he actually made his own hat!

His favourite animal is actually an otter as he finds them cuddly and adorable.

Mr. Fussy -

He doesn’t like animals because of germs, but Mr. Messy once suggested him a hairless cat, and he flat out refused to own one.

His favourite instrument is the piano as he was taught by his now deceased father on how to play one.

He loved his mother dearly, even though she wasn’t there for him that often due to working frequently.

Miss Giggles -

Butterflies makes her laugh the hardest as she finds them ticklish on her.

She is scared of the dark as she thinks monsters will come after her.

She loves to crack jokes but fails due to laughing hard in the process.

Mr. Grumpy -

He can surprisingly sing well, that even Miss Chatterbox is enchanted by his powerful voice.

Adopting Diesel was the best decision as the cat was born with Wobbly Cat Syndrome, and it gave him a purpose and new perception.

He loves fishing due to his father and grandfather were fishers themselves.

Mr. Happy -

He loves making shapes and new designs on hedges, including that of angels and rabbits.

He rescued Smiley from a Puppy Miller, and he loved him the moment Smiley came to him.

Despite his happy side, he actually suffers from anxiety disorder.

Miss Helpful -

She loves building birdhouses and that’s the only thing she good at building.

Miss Helpful used to have a crush on Mr. Bump until she found out he and Mr. Tickle got together.

She doesn’t believe that zombies are real but believes vampires do exist.

Mr. Lazy -

He actually loves insects, especially slugs, ew.

He can actually cook the best potato dish, but he doesn’t admit his cooking talents.

His favourite colour is magenta.

Miss Magic -

She much prefer doing magic tricks with her pet dragon goat, Nutmeg, then typical rabbits or doves.

Her favourite magic trick is the card tricks as that’s the first magic trick she was taught when she was a child.

Her favourite genre of music is ‘Pop’.

Mr. Messy -

His cat, Scruffy, is a LaPerm breed.

He uses to collect cockroaches when he was a child and he finds them cute.

He can rap very well, and even likes to roast others, particularly Mr. Fussy.

Miss Naughty -

She actually enjoys ballroom dancing and Mr. Fussy was her instructor, and now does it with Miss Scary.

She once dyed her hair green and she HATES it!

Her favourite ice cream flavour is cookies n cream.

Mr. Nervous -

He has a therapy dog has he suffers from paranoia and social anxiety.

He finds jigsaw puzzles quite calming and he has that patience.

His favourite colour is aqua.

Mr. Noisy -

His favourite instrument is the drum and he particularly likes to play rock n roll.

Tap dance is his favourite dance form as he was taught at a young age.

He knows Mr. Quiet since he was a child and they are like half friends.

Mr. Nosey -

His favourite season is Summer as he can go surfing with Mr. Small.

For some reason, he finds pineapples funny yet cute.

He once did a cooking competition and invented mango and banana jam, which somehow became popular.

Mr. Quiet -

He doesn’t like birds due to being attacked since he was a child.

Yoga is like his therapy and he made his own zen garden.

He actually learned karate and has earned a black belt.

Mr. Rude -

He surprisingly loves romantic novels, even though he would flat out deny it.

Mr. Rude hates the Summer due to the heat unless he’s at the beach.

He collects berets and favourite is a velvet red beret that he got from his mother.

Miss Scary -

She’s actually an animal lover, even though some animals are rather questionable.

Despite scaring Mr. Nervous, she will stand up for him if he gets beaten or bullied.

She reads ‘The Raven’ poem to cheer herself up.

Mr. Scatterbrain -

He has the most animals out of all the characters and it’s too much to count.

His favourite sport is swimming and he’s an excellent swimmer.

He loves anything polka dots as he finds it silly and cute.

Mr. Small -

He collects monocles and top hats.

His favourite animal is koalas as he finds them cuddly and adorable.

He knows Mr. Nosey since he was a kid.

Mr. Strong -

He rescued Finnigan from being poached and he loves his hippo and even brought him a giant pool.

He loves any food with eggs like egg salad or omelette.

He and Mr. Bump are best friends, even though Mr. Bump gets intimidated by his strength.

Mr. Stubborn -

His favourite food is spaghetti meatballs.

Surprisingly, he loves penguins, even though he’s convinced that they can fly.

He prefers rainy seasons over sunny days.

Miss Sunshine -

She collects stickers, particularly cute ones like hearts or kittens.

She can see and make clothes, particularly gowns and dresses.

She is a master of hide n seek.

Mr. Tall -

He grew very tall since the age of 6.

He hates it when people try to be as tall as him secretly as he feels ashamed.

Kangaroos are his favourite animal.

Mr. Tickle -

He is actually a master of archery.

His favourite colour are blue and orange, lol.

He is the best baker, particularly around brownies.

Miss Whoops -

She suffers from alopecia, and used to have dark blue hair.

She collects gnomes as she believes they bring her luck, or perhaps bring more trouble.

She LOVES ferrets!

[berryflavouredkoolaid]

Ophelia Black - Harry Potter OC

~ General ~

Full Name: Ophelia Volpecula Black

Nicknames: ‘Phee, ‘Phelia

Birthdate: March 3rd, 1961

Blood Status: Pureblood

Residence: London, England | Bath, England | London, England | Godrics‘s Hollow, England

~Physical Appearance ~

Hair Colour: Black

Eye Colour: Grey

Skin Tone: Pale

Body Type: Ectomorph

Height: 5’5

Misc: Mole on her right cheek

~ Background ~

Hometown: London, England

Although Ophelia lived her childhood in London, she and her brothers were strictly forbidden from entering the muggle parts of the city. However, their mother’s threats did little to stop the Black children from sneaking into the heart of the city and exploring to their heart’s content. Although the punishment was always harsh if they were found out.

~ Magic & Schooling ~

Wand:

Wood: English Oak

Core: Phoenix Tail Feather

Length: 10 Inches

Flexibility: Pliable

House: Slytherin

Best Class: Charms

Worst Class: Flying

Patronus: Incorporeal/White Swan

Patronus Memory: She, Regulus and Sirius sneaking out of a ball and gorging themselves on stolen sweets in the garden

Boggart: Her brothers dead

Riddikulus: Unable to cast

Amortentia (what she smells like): Peppermint, vanilla, patchouli

Amortentia (what she smells): Sandalwood, grass, coffee, pine, sweat

Mirror of Erised: She, Sirius and Regulus all together, No divides or messiness, all alive and happy.

Quidditch: No

Prefect: Yes

Clubs: Slug Club

OWLs:

Transfiguration: Outstanding

Charms: Outstanding

Potions: Exceeds Expectations

Defence Against the Dark Arts: Outstanding

Herbology: Exceeds Expectations

History of Magic: Exceeds Expectations

Astronomy: Outstanding

Study of Ancient Runes: Exceeds Expectations

Arithmancy: Outstanding

NEWTs:

Transfiguration: Outstanding

Charms: Outstanding

Potions: Outstanding

Study of Ancient Runes: Exceeds Expectations

Defence Against the Dark Arts: Exceeds Expectations

Career:

1971-1979: Student at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry

1979-1981: Wife to Evan Rosier, Double Agent

1981-1994: Independently Wealthy, Presumed Dead

~ Family ~

Mother: Walburga Black

Walburga always doted on her youngest daughter, although her attention was of the critical kind. She groomed her to be flawless, unyielding. If Sirius was the heir and Regulus the spare, Ophelia was the rung on the ladder they would climb to rise to the top. By Ophelia’s 5th birthday, she was betrothed to Evan Rosier, a match of her mother’s making.

Father: Orion Black

Orion Black had little interest in Ophelia, he really had no interest in any of his children. To him, children were women’s work. He was proud of them, sure, or at least of Regulus and Ophelia, but did he really care about them? No.

Elder Brother: Sirius Black

Despite undoubtedly being similar, Sirius and Ophelia’s relationship has been difficult at the best of times. The few memories that don’t involve screaming, crying, and more than a few times, flying projectiles are rare and often mediated by an impartial party. To Ophelia, Sirius is an entitled, selfish asshole who thinks he’s so tortured when really he’s the most privileged of the three. And Sirius never really considered Ophelia anything beyond his annoying little sister with a victim complex and who never really liked him much. Andromeda always said Sirius and Ophelia were like oil and water, just not able to mesh together.

After his graduation, Sirius didn’t see his sister in person for almost 15 years. He saw her smiling face in the paper, hugging Evan in their wedding finery. And again, once again beside Evan, announcing the birth of their first child. He only saw her face-to-face long after all these milestones passed. In the kitchen of their childhood home.

Twin Brother: Regulus Black

When Ophelia and Regulus were born, the midwife told Walburga that twins were two halves of one. As children, the twins had their own language no one else, not even Sirius could understand. Similar but different, Regulus and Ophelia just fit together. Like puzzle pieces, without the other they’re incomplete. As children, whenever they were separated they would burst into tears and not be silenced until they laid eyes on each other.

Daughter: Aquila Marguerite Rosier

Something changed when Aquila Rosier stepped to the Sorting Hat and without a second thought, it placed her firmly in Ravenclaw. With her mother’s brains and her father’s charm, Aquila was popular and well-liked despite her family’s blood traitor status. Despite her scholarly excellence, Aquila never missed a chance to let loose. As such, she has friends in nearly every house, except Slytherin, where enemies abound.

Son: Hugo Regulus Rosier

Hugo differs greatly from his sister. Soft-spoken and sweet, he has the kind of quiet charm that softens everyone to him. Ophelia was always reminded of Regulus with Hugo, from his dark hair to his green eyes. His tanned skin comes from his father, though. The second Rosier to deviate from the Slytherin house, Hugo was sorted into Gryffindor.

~ Personality & Traits ~

Personality: Ophelia is, at her very core, a rather selfish person. She cares more about what people think of her, that her life stays safe and comfortable, that the people she loves are happy and healthy and alive than the fates of the world and people she doesn’t know. Ophelia is smart as a whip, always getting top grades and showing a talent for magic comparable to few others. She cares deeply for her family and friends, even their wrongs are wrapped in a silver lining to her, for better or for worse. Ophelia is much like her older brother, they share the same all-encompassing, complete loyalty, willing to do anything and everything for their loved ones.

Likes: Dancing, playing the violin, school, safety, comfort, citrus, calligraphy, writing

Dislikes: Flying, heights, her mother, diets, balls, fighting, disruption, magical creatures

Favourite Place: The Rosier Estate

Prized Possession: Her journal

~ Relationships ~

Love Interest: Evan Rosier

Evan and Ophelia were sort of destined for each other. Both pedigreed children of pureblood families, the pair were betrothed practically before they could walk. Always pushed together at every step, it’s almost shocking they didn’t end up hating each other. But, it ended up being quite the opposite. Evan and Ophelia were each other’s first everything. As they entered their final year of Hogwarts, Evan’s parents continued to pressure him to join the ranks of Voldemort’s followers. Halfway through their seventh year, he relented. Ophelia and Evan married not long after their graduation, at the Rosier estate, where they would live.

Best Friend: Regulus Black

Friends:

Narcissa Malfoy

Barty Crouch Jr. (Formerly)

Antonia Avery (Formerly)

Remus Lupin

Albus Dumbledore

Rivals:

Cosette Fawley

Molly Weasley

~ Misc. & Notes ~

Walburga has had Ophelia on a strict diet since she was 13 years old.

She has beautiful handwriting, a product of rigorous practice and training. Her handwriting is delicate, spidery and smooth, almost fragile.

Ophelia’s favourite colour is really a dark red, but she lies that it’s green when asked, upon occasion.

She and Regulus can practically read each other’s thoughts.

In her thued year, Ophelia tried to select Muggle Studies as one of her courses, but her parents contacted the school and forced her to switch.

In December 1979, Ophelia Rosier made a deal with Albus Dumbledore, more than a year before Severus Snape. She exchanged every piece of information about Voldemort, Regulus’s suspicions about the Horcruxes, and the identities of many of the Death Eaters for the safety of Regulus Black and Evan Rosier.

Regulus Black went missing, presumed dead only one week later.

Following Regulus’s death, Evan and Ophelia Rosier disappeared with their infant daughter. Eleven years later, Aquila Rosier arrived at Hogwarts.

[bacon-sandwich-of-dionysus]

Bloodhound. (A Ghost x AFAB!Reader fic)

Act One, Chapter Nine: In the Eye of the Storm

Hey guys! I'm back! Yay!

So, so sorry for the super long delay- med school has been extremely busy and on top of that, the Christmas hols have been busy as well. I had family functions, Christmas itself, and my birthday on New Year's Eve ( :3 ). I will also admit that I did briefly lose motivation for this fic, writer's block is a curse, and it was a little bit of slug to get started writing again, but I'm very happy with this chapter and I hope you are all too.

Nevertheless, here's Chapter 9- a.k.a the penultimate chapter of Act One! Yay! I'm so excited for Chapter 10! I don't want to spoil much, but let's just say we'll be getting our first glimpse of an Arcadian Son in his wolven form! 🐺

Feedback is welcome! Let's drum up some hype for Act One's finale!

Warnings: Strong language, threats of violence, emetophobia warning, violence, gore, mild body horror and animal death (I will say this happens under the final asterisk of the chapter almost at the very end and it is a bit nasty)

P.S: Fun fact- half of this came to me in a dream! Seriously, it did!

Her resolve was breaking, crumbling away like sand through her fingers. She was faltering, stumbling over a root as she dragged her body to continue on. Valeria looked behind to see she had lost sight of the base. Slowly, she returned her gaze to what was in front of her: the vague path back to their camp.

She had cast that awful mask aside, leaving it to be found at the edge of the base, where the back of that dilapidated building met the woods, hoping you’d find it and that it’d light a fire under your arse.

A life taken was, in her eyes, better than a life doomed. At least, with murder, there came some form of closure. Some form of a definitive… end.

How long until it would set in? Until he’d unravel and consume them all?

Consume you?

She prayed that the anger she had seen in your face, as she had grabbed a fistful of your hair, bringing your bloodied visage to look upon hers, meant you had it in you to fix this. There was a good chance you’d reject Ghost and flee the moment you discovered his newfound nature. And… you’d be right in doing that- you know, to kill him before he’d get into their hands. Valeria hoped you’d stab him with a silver stake in his sleep or do her the kindness of making him scream. Oooh. Something inside her giggled with sadistic joy at the thought of an Arcadian Son screaming in agony at the hands of a lamia. What a triumph that would be! An arrogant man with strength he didn’t deserve nor need, squirming about at the feet of a trafficked child. Valeria hungered for that, and she had found a substitute in reigning supreme over the Las Almas Cartel but, now that she thought about it, it wasn’t the same. It was play. It was her living in a fantasy, rehearsing all the things she wanted to say and do to her overseer. There were many people that sat at the back of her mind, giving voice to her innermost doubts and fears, whom she wanted to see burn by her hands, and he was one of them. That heartless fucker who managed to worm his way into her very being, one who she’d still want to see in awe of her, to feel a swell of pride as she’d slit his throat.

Every Arcadian Son was the same. Every single one. They all did nothing but hurt, exploit, and terrorise. Throwing around their gifts without a care in the world and making sure everyone was constantly feeling their anguish, their pain.

But what about mine?! What about my pain?!

She trudged on, doing her best to halt the tears pooling in her eyes. In an ill attempt to self-soothe, Valeria found her arms slowly snaking around her, her body pulling her into an embrace. It stung as the cartel queen felt a tear trickle from her eye, rolling down her nose, clinging to the end. Then another, and another, and another once more. Valeria wanted to beat someone half to death. She wanted to feel powerful again, toying with people. She had thought that all these years she had spent on herself, spoiling herself rotten with an underground empire and plenty of men to crush beneath her boot, she had grown. And yet, here she was, a sobbing, snivelling mess, nothing more than a weak, little girl.

Little girl.

“You wouldn’t have existed if it weren’t for me.”

Little girl.

“I will always be with you.”

Little girl.

“You will always be scared of men like me. You will always be scared of men.”

The way those words had been uttered to her, all those years ago, with no anger, no emotion behind them, uttered like cold, hard facts. As if she was made to be a certain way. As if she couldn’t escape her nature. As if she was destined to be a caricature, an idea of a person. It was as if everything Valeria had ever done had meant nothing, because all this she had created, had accumulated, had achieved, was merely boiled down to a response to him. Essentially, Valeria realised that she was and would always be nothing more than his lamia.

A quivering breath escaped her, and she became still. Glossy brown eyes stared into the middle distance.

She could have said no, died in defiance.

And yet, she obeyed.

How far was she from camp?

“Valeria?”

Quick as a whip, she snapped back to reality and saw Graves, directly in front of her, standing amidst the shrubbery. His posture indicated he was concerned, slightly leaning forward, one unsure foot put in front of the other, hands hovering in place, shaking with slight trepidation. To him, she didn’t look well. Something about her indicated she wasn’t entirely here and as for her slightly unkempt armour and bloodstained face, Phillip feared she wouldn’t be able to give a decent report.

Still¸ he sighed, no harm in tryin’.

“Valeria?”

“You disgrace the army.”

Every single fucking man she had ever met had, in some form or the other, left a nasty mark on her. Every. Single. Fucking. One.

As she watched Phillip approach her, with a patronising dose of caution, her lip curled.

“I want the missiles. I want the target. And I want Hassan. And you’ve got ten seconds or I’m going to show you the difference between military and me.”

Phillip Graves was feeling sorry for himself now, but she knew it was only a matter of time before he’d be back to his usual self, or perhaps even worse.

“Valeria?”

“What?!” she snapped.

“Have you delivered the package to the target and…”

She could tell he was looking her up and down.

“… Did the renegade do that to you?”

Valeria wasn’t fooled by his softened voice. She took a disgusted step back as he took one towards her.

“What do you think?” Valeria sighed, making to brush past him and collect her things at camp so she could leave this promptly.

He grabbed her, hard, by the wrists. She looked at him like he wasn’t even human, her eyes wide, mouth slightly agape, a face depicting someone who was taken aback by not a man, but an animal.

“I need a full report of what happened,” he spoke to her like she was a mere child.

She looked at him, trying to find his eyes behind that blank visor. Although there really wasn’t much of a height difference between them, she felt as though he was consuming her whole field of vision. Angry tears should have told him enough, but it was evident that he wanted to hear it from her lips.

“Let me go.”

“I need a report.”

“Let me go.”

“You can have your tantrum afterwards, Garza. I need a report. You do realise that this is technically a mission-”

She pulled away, trying to break free of his grip, but to no avail. Over his shoulder, she could see the tantalising shape of camp. Valeria wriggled, demanding to be released. Phillip’s grip only tightened.

Stop.

Stop.

Stop.

Stop.

Stop.

Stop.

Stop.

STOP!

Valeria kicked him, screamed at him and, in a moment of brief freedom, before he’d trap her in his embrace once more, she hit his armoured chest. Again, and again and again. All that came out of her were shrieks and curses that sounded as though they had been trapped in her gullet for centuries. She punched and punched his chest, fighting to break free from his grip as he reestablished control. Graves supposed he’d let her have her moment for a few seconds, however, he soon grew tired of her hysteria.

“Valeria… Valeria, will you just… Val-”

He sighed.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GIVE ME THE GODDAMN REPORT!” he roared.

Then, Phillip fell silent, as if surprised by his own voice. He sounded a lot worse than he did when she last spoke to him, merely hours ago.

Valeria glowered at him but did as he said, regaining composure. She was breathless, panting as her whole body rose and fell in time with her stifled gasps for air. Her hands were raised in front of her, held in place by his, almost framing her face.

“The renegade was there. They saw me. And as for the target… Riley’s received the package.”

He eyed the woman, seeing if he could smell any lies on her. However, it seemed she was telling the truth. Phillip let go of her hands and watched them drop to her sides.

“Clean yourself up and go log it on the lexicon-thingy. I received a call from them not too long after you left. They said they want to hear it from you.”

She pushed past him, wiping away the salty water on her lips with the back of her hand.

Dawn would be approaching and with it, heaps of planning for the final stage. They hadn’t been here for long, but to Phillip, he felt as though he had aged aeons. A sliver of him had just made its absence finally known, having spent the past few days teasing him with its liminal existence. Absentmindedly, he rested a hand on his chest, picking at the crevices of his armour as he stared off into the middle distance. He wasn’t the same. He’d hit rock bottom and now had to get on with things despite it all because he didn’t have anything else to do but that. Never had a man truly encapsulated the word ‘undead’. Phillip Graves in a sense had died in Las Almas, in that tank, at the hands of John ‘Soap’ MacTavish, but he hadn’t been reborn or redeemed in any way. The man was a soulless continuation of the previous iteration. Although he knew the inescapable reality of his situation, he couldn’t fathom it: particularly the fact that he was alive. This didn’t feel like being alive, though. He was simply… going through the motions. There was no agency here. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, he did have some agency which led him to the decision he had been procrastinating on making.

The matter of the girls.

***

“What?!” 72’s voice cracked; her indignation just barely being contained. “What do you mean we can’t go?!”

Phillip winced a little, trying to find the correct footwork needed to get around the girl and get on with his life. Much to his chagrin, though, the young lamia firmly put herself in front of him, blocking his path with her feet squarely placed hip-width apart and her arms crossed. She had an aggravating scowl on her face as she looked up at him.

“Kid…”

“Kid?” she scoffed.

“72,” he sighed, pausing for a brief moment to collect his thoughts, “you and 23 need to stay put. For your own safety. You know, I’m doing this for your own good.”

“We’re supposed to be working,” she growled, “We’re supposed to be on a job.”

Phillip noticed the way her brows lowered, eyes narrowing, it brought about a sense of familiarity to him, like he’d seen that expression elsewhere but couldn’t quite place it.

Him.

Suddenly, he was aware that he was pulling the same face under his helmet.

“You’re going to be doing me a lot of favours by staying back here. So, stay.”

“But-”

“That’s an order, 72!”

She was taken aback by his raised voice, her lip trembling a little as her mind couldn’t make up whether she should be scared or continue to be angry. Graves rose to his full height no longer bringing himself down to meet her eyes, thinking that had done the trick.

He gently moved her out the way and walked past, feeling an odd sense of pride that he’d managed to avoid a teenage girl’s wrath successfully.

“What are you so afraid of?”

Phillip stopped dead in his tracks.

“Are you scared you’re going to hurt us?” 72 taunted, “I know that you were the one responsible for 23’s injury after we extracted the drug lord.”

He couldn’t… He couldn’t even bring himself to look at whatever smug grin she was probably pulling, knowing full well that it would send him over the edge. The last thing he needed right now was an excuse to lose it, especially when she was in the line of fire.

“You…” He could hear his voice had become gravelly once more, like it had done so when he’d yelled at Valeria. “… You, young lady, are skating on some mighty thin ice.”

“I don’t even need to read your mind to know you’re full of guilt.”

“72-”

“We’re here for you! We’re your lamias! You can’t just leave us here, they’ll find out we weren’t working properly, and they’ll do something about it!” she cried, throwing her arms out and vaguely upward.

He turned to face her.

“I’m supposed to be dead. I was supposed to be in a shallow grave in the middle of nowhere, not atoning for my fucking sins but here I am yet on another mission… with two children that I now have to make sure don’t get fucking killed because...”

“Because?”

“I’ve killed so many people. I’ve been a damn good contractor. But I draw the line here. I draw the line at children.”

“We’re not just children.”

“No, 72, you are and you’re in my care. I tell you what to do and you do as I say. That’s the fuckin’ deal. Got it?”

Her lips were pulled into a thin line.

“Got it?!”

She hung her head low.

“Yes, sir,” 72 said, resignedly.

He nodded to himself.

“Go into your tent and stay there until I come get you for food or whatever. If you need anything, you call me, and I’ll let you out.”

Tail between her legs, she sulkily walked back to her flimsy shelter. He watched her unzip the flap and crawl in, hearing the shrill sound of the zipper being angrily pulled along the teeth. Phillip found himself lingering a little longer, watching her silhouette greet 23’s in the warm glow of the hanging torch he’d managed to fish out of their bags for them when they first set up shop here.

Though it stung, Graves knew it had been the right thing to do. They weren’t built for the battlefield, and he’d got a glimpse of that when Valeria had been taken.

23…

His mind was still foggy on what exactly happened with her. As much as he wanted to ask, he feared it would either confirm his suspicions or leave him with only more questions. And so, Phillip had opted to wallow in his apprehension, hoping that once he’d finished this mission and hopefully be rid of them, he could either forget about his guilt or drown it in a fuck ton of alcohol like he used to.

Taken a heavy hit? Simply rock up to the nearest bar in the area and drink and drink and drink.

Having awful flashbacks to Al-Mazrah? Sip some tequila, then sip some more tequila… then keep sipping until you’ve somehow arrived at the next day with only faint recollection of how exactly you got here.

Phillip wondered if he could even get drunk anymore thanks to his newfound condition. Perhaps that’s why the rest of the Arcadian Sons seemed so… excessive, the senseless violence and enforcing of power kept them from acknowledging the tragedies that were their own existences. Maybe he should get with the programme.

No…

It felt wrong.

Then again, he’d most likely done just as bad before. Still, his previous transgressions never made him feel like this, even thinking about spilling blood made his stomach both churn and burn with hungry excitement. It would be giving into something, something that was steeped in sin.

He needed to get this job done and hope the Foundation would give him another one so he would have no time to be alone with his thoughts.

***

You took another pump of soap and rubbed it into your hands before bringing them under the tap once again. Warm water washed over you as you picked at your nails, trying to get the last bits of brown, dried blood which were stubbornly sitting in the crevices of your fingers. Eventually, you looked back up to see the red smeared across the lower half of your face, coming to almost a point, where the source was: your nose.

Damn it.

The blood was beginning to dry, becoming a nasty crust over your skin. You couldn’t help but stare at yourself- bloodied, bruising with tearstains to boot.

You thought about the lamia once more. She had been hanging about in your head for some time now, her face briefly gracing your mind’s eye with her presence. You wondered who exactly she was, not from an identity perspective but rather, you were curious about her intentions. It was just… why?! Why was she there? Why did she help you? Why help and still work for the Foundation? Why show such solidarity, tell you about the Arcadian Sons in the forest, undeniably a few kilometres away, and yet, still, presumably, enter to confirm your location?

Or was this all a ruse? No… it couldn’t be!

It wasn’t like you were going to wait around to find out, you were going to pack your shit and leave first thing in tomorrow morning. You swore to yourself that come dawn tomorrow, you were out of here.

You just hoped that the Arcadian Sons weren’t planning anything tonight.

They couldn’t be that fast, could they?

They could. They very much could.

Damn it.

You sighed, watching your reflection frown. All you really had going for you at the moment was the hope that some god above would take pity on your plight and have the Arcadian Sons miss their window of opportunity.

A long sigh escaped you as you rested some of your weight on the sink.

Ghost’s bout of nausea hadn’t been helping the overall atmosphere in the base either. He’d hogged the bathroom pretty much all morning, vomiting loudly. Soap had been lingering outside for pretty much all of it, occasionally knocking on the door to ask the man if he needed the medic… to which Ghost would reply with, “No. Gaz is keeping ‘em occupied anyway. Besides, I think I just ate-” and then he’d get cut off by puking back into the toilet bowl.

You were curious about what exactly was wrong with him but hadn’t had an opportunity to even catch a quick glimpse of his state, with Kate and Price immediately pulling you aside to ask about the events that had transpired last night the moment you were out of the medical room. Alejandro and Rudy had also interrogated you in the office with the others earlier but that resulted in them having more questions. Then, a massive argument had broken out between Alejandro and 141, with Rudy doing his best but being an unsuccessful mediator. Everything came to an end though when Ghost had sat back down after getting a word in, only to suddenly rise from his seat and make a break for the bathroom. Everyone heard his retches down the corridor, and you wouldn’t be lying if you admitted that the sounds had made you feel a little nauseous yourself.

Bewildered was the word you thought best described the base at the moment.

A pit was slowly growing in your stomach. You were dreading what nightfall would bring. They were coming for you and there are only so many times you can escape the Foundation’s clutches before luck runs out.

You were glad you had packed your silver-plated knives and stake, feeling the sweet relief of reassurance as you grabbed your toothbrush, eager to finally have a moment to yourself to freshen up.

***

The clues at the bottom of her crossword were slowly blurring into one inky blob on the page. A pen, slightly shaking with mild anger, hovered over the third row spanning across the answer area. Usually, 72 would make light work of this, but today, she seemed preoccupied.

23 looked at her with caution from across the tent as she fiddled with the new compression bandaged Phillip had quickly slipped onto her slowly healing knee. The swelling had gone down a little, but it still looked sore. She watched, with increasing anxiety, as 72 grew more and more tense. Eventually, she caved and lashed out with a loud growl, throwing her pen to the side.

“You okay?” 23 asked with trepidation.

“Can you believe he’s making us stay here? Instead of, you know, letting us do our jobs?”

23 shrugged, turning to pick up her camcorder and searching for the switch as 72 continued her rant.

“Like, the Red Room clearly thinks we’re ready or we wouldn’t have been deployed, you know? His report is what’s gonna get us out of the Red Room and actually into a definitive pack. That we’ll stay in…”

She drew her knees to her chest, hugging the newspaper.

“… Instead of being passed from one packmaster to another.”

23 shrugged.

“Maybe he’s right,” the girl suggested, flicking through her footage.

72 grumbled.

“We’re going to end up paying for this. We always do,” she mumbled into the paper, “He thinks he’s doing the right thing but as soon as he mentions on the final report that we did nothing-”

“How do you even know he’s gonna say that?” 23 looked up at her with an exasperated expression, only emphasised by the blue glow from the device’s screen highlighting her features.

“Because he has to?!” 72 sat upright. “They’ll ask.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Why are you sticking up for him?!”

“I’m not!”

“You are! You’re on his side!”

If 23 had pearls, she’d be clutching them in response to such a false and heinous accusation.

“72, I’m not taking anyone’s side. We both know that he’s nice so he’s not going to do anything to get us in trouble, okay?”

“He’s the reason your knee’s fucked up.”

72 pointed at the bandaging on the girl’s leg. 23 cast her gaze downwards and to the side, covering the dressing with her hands.

“Are you scared of him? Is that what it is?” 72 asked, before bringing her hand to her forehead. “Oh my God! You’re scared! You’re doing as your told for once because you’re scared of him!”

“I’m not scared of him! Besides, it was my fault my knee’s screwed up, I was the one that tripped… It’s just-”

“Just what? Scared the big bad wolf is gonna eat ya?”

23 glared daggers at her.

“No, I’m not scared. I’m just being reasonable. Maybe, he has a point. Maybe, we should stay here.”

72 leaned back, her eyes narrowing.

“If I left and followed them to the base, would you let me do it alone?”

Silence fell upon them briefly, only the sounds of awkward rustling filled the tent.

“Well?” 72 asked impatiently.

“I mean…” 23 trailed off, scratching her upper arm idly as she thought.

“Yes or no!”

“Fine!” the girl groaned, throwing her head back.

***

Kate’s fingers were interlocked, her hands tightly wrapped around one another, in a ball, resting on her head as she looked at the ground. Y/N was in their prime. They knew. She, on the other hand, clearly was losing touch and at an alarming rate.

Price sat across from her, a steaming cup of tea sitting atop a small table was the only barrier between the two. He let out a sigh, the air whistling a little as it left his nose. His hands were comfortably placed on his lower abdomen, a contrast to his right leg, which jigged up and down, giving away his brewing anxiety. The captain was growing to resent this silence, waiting and wanting Kate to fill it because he couldn’t, he had no words.

The tense quiet was what was left of Alejandro’s panicked anger and Rudy’s unsuccessful attempts to quell it. He had shouted, paced, accused and demanded that Y/N needed to leave. Kate had stated that she could only let Y/N go once the contact had confirmed it was safe, and as much as she hoped you’d agree, you took Alejandro’s side.

You would leave come tomorrow’s sunrise and just hope that by the time you’d reach the border, the people Kate had been talking to would be there to greet you… like the angels at the Pearly Gates.

Marks of Alejandro’s outburst were everywhere in this room: the door only now just ceasing its swinging from when he’d stormed off, the slam of his fist still ringing in Kate’s ears, the scattered papers and the empty dossier precariously hanging off the table’s edge.

Price’s brown eyes looked over to the old electric fan atop one of the filing cabinets, feeling himself become engrossed in its soothing blanket of white noise as it whirred away, fighting to do its job.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have taken on Y/N.”

Quickly, he turned back to Kate.

“What?”

“We already have enough shit going on. Y/N… I didn’t need to add them to the list of our problems,” she muttered, shaking her head, “Did you hear what Ghost said? And how Alejandro responded?! I could’ve sworn I saw it n his eyes for a second that he was ready to kick us out.”

“No… No!” he implored, scooting his chair, trying to close at least some of the distance, “You did the right thing.”

She looked at him, her blue eyes intense, darting, doing their best not to give away her bubbling emotions.

“It’s difficult to see that right now. We’re here because Alejandro is allowing us to be here, he’s already jumping a lot of hoops for us.”

“And you’re doing the same for Y/N. We don’t leave each other. Where would they be right now if you hadn’t found them?” Price asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Dead,” Kate stated, plain as day, “Or worse.”

Price’s eyes creased and his mutton chops rose as he gave her a small, reassuring smile.

“Exactly. And besides, neither of you have screwed us over. They said it themself, the soldiers after them won’t come for us if we keep out of their way.”

“Usually, John.”

He nodded, being a little too nonchalant for Kate’s liking, as he took his cup of tea to his lips.

Then, it clicked.

“Wait, John, I know that look-”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“I think you do.”

Price shook his head.

“John!”

“Kate!”

She sighed, leaning back.

“I’ll go to try and appease Alejandro by telling him we’ll all- well, I’ll who’s feeling up to it- take night watch tonight, save him and his men the trouble, you know. Then, if those lads show up to take your friend, we’ll be ready and stand firmly in their way. Then, Y/N will have a clear path of escape… theoretically.”

“John,” Kate chuckled weakly, “I appreciate the offer, as I’m sure Y/N would, but these are no ordinary soldiers.”

“Neither are we.”

“No, you don’t understand. What I mean is-”

“Kate, I suggest you think about heading to the barracks soon to rest up, we’ve got a long night ahead of us,” he said bluntly, rising from his seat.

With a shaking head and tight lips, she conceded. Laswell supposed it didn’t really change her plan, which was hoping that whatever pack of Arcadian Sons were out there would decide tomorrow night would be their time of attack. However, at the same time, she didn’t want to put her friends in harm’s way. And yet, having people available to raise the alarm would be beneficial, should they rock up tonight. They didn’t know what she knew though, and… well, Kate decided she’d take up Price’s advice to retire for the rest of the day to reflect on how she should prepare them, should the wolves turn up at their door.

Captain Price wandered towards the window, trying to peak through the fogged-up pane to see if there was anything interesting happening in the wilderness just outside the base. Suddenly, he yelped, staggering back, as a small bird landed just outside. Its wings hit the glass harshly as it steadied itself, before looking in to observe the strange giant beholding it.

“What kind of bird do you think that is, Kate? Looks like some sort of blue magpie to me,” Price mumbled.

Then, he straightened up and gave it a proper salute.

“Hello, Mr Magpie. How’s your wife?” he asked, giving a quiet but hearty laugh as he heard Kate snicker at one of his many British eccentricities.

“What?” Price pretended to take offence, turning around.

“I always forget you do that with birds!”

“Just magpies,” he corrected, “And they’re gorgeous little things so what does it matter!”

Kate shook her head, smiling.

Price gave a playful glare and turned back around, only to see that his small, winged friend had gone.

***

“How are you shaping up, Si?” Soap asked as he squatted down by Ghost’s bedside.

“Feel like I’ve been hit by a bus,” Riley replied, voice muffled by the pillow he was speaking into, “I’m dying.”

“I don’t think you’re dying, mate.”

“I am.”

Soap rolled his eyes. Ghostie may have had a reputation for being a stone-cold killer, and a very intimidating one at that, but MacTavish had found, as he’d gotten to know him, that the lieutenant also had a subtle flare for the dramatic.

“I don’t think you are,” Soap laughed quietly, removing the lid of a hot cup of tea he had retrieved from the mess hall.

“You can’t say anything, you’re not a medical professional.”

“Well,” Soap retorted, placing the lid gently on the ground, “the medic checked up on you a few mins ago and also said you’re not dying. I don’t think yer condition has changed much from then. I think you probably just ate something that didn’t agree with ya.”

“Fair enough,” Ghost said with a groan, his voice finally becoming clear as he turned his head to face Soap instead of the pillow.

He noticed the tea in Soap’s hand.

“That for me?”

MacTavish briefly looked down at what he was holding, and then back up at his friend.

“Oh aye,” the sergeant chuckled as he handed it over, “I made it black though, I’m worried the milk might set you off again.”

“Thanks, Johnny,” Ghost sighed, pulling his mask up to take a sip.

Soap sat himself down on the floor, fiddling with his hands as he watched Ghost drink up.

“You sound better,” MacTavish remarked.

“Really?” Riley asked between swigs of tea, “I feel worse.”

“Ah, that’s because it’s coming out,” Soap happily informed, “So, layering a fuck ton of blankets on top of you and making you sweat is working!”

“You’ve been pestering the medic all morning, haven’t you?”

“Maybe.” Soap shrugged.

“Ugh, Johnny. I told you not to bother her. She’s supposed to be helpin’ Gaz.”

Soap was about to say something, then paused, reevaluated, and tried again.

“I’m sorry,” The Scot folded his arms. “One minute you’re acting like you’re on your deathbed and the next, you’re telling me that I can’t be seeking out medical advice on your behalf?”

Ghost scoffed, giving him a playful punch in the arm. Only it wasn’t as light as it was playful. Soap took it well, not quite getting knocked over, but, once the shock had worn off, he couldn’t help but nurse his shoulder.

“Oh shit!” Ghost hurriedly pulled off the covers, practically leaping out of bed. “Sorry, Soap, I didn’t- Fuck!”

As he had tried to remedy the situation, the poor man had spilt his tea all over the floor.

“It’s fine, Si.” Soap brushed him off, rising to his feet. “I see you’ve not quite lost your strength. That’s good, I guess. I’ll go get some tissues.”

“No, I’ll go. I made the mess.”

As much as Soap wanted to protest, it’d be no use. He could see Simon’s mind was already made up.

“Sure.”

Soap conceded, giving way for Ghost as he grabbed his balaclava and rushed out.

***

As he was making his way there, he couldn’t help but feel this sense of unease. He was pretty certain it was what remained of Alejandro’s outburst. Though it was shocking, Ghost could understand where he was coming from; Riley himself had initial reservations about Y/N’s presence here. However, those reservations quickly died once Ghost had seen them and their desperation. He understood that kind of fear. Y/N was vulnerable right now, and needed time to rebuild their strength, hence why Ghost had vehemently protested against Alejandro’s demands to do away with Y/N.

That had led to a stern reprimand from Price and a very surprised look from Soap… and then of course, Ghost had to worsen everything by being this stupidly ill.

Simon actually had no clue what was wrong with him. It was like it had happened overnight; just suddenly, the poor bastard had come down with a pounding headache, high fever, nausea and these weird cramps in his lower abdomen and legs.

Just as he was thinking about them, another wave of pain hit him. Ghost took a moment for himself, resting a hand and his forehead on the wall, trying to find some relief in long, steady breaths.

“Are you alright?” a timid voice asked from behind him.

He turned around ad saw you, toiletries in hand, looking up at him with a worried expression.

“Yeah,” Ghost replied, “What, uh, what about you? Are you okay? You recoverin’?”

You nodded.

“That lamia got a few good hits on me, but I’m in one piece and alive, so that’s good.”

You both chuckled as you casted your gaze off to the side.

“I just… feel bad, though,” you confessed, drawing your belonging close to your chest, “Alejandro seemed so scared, like I was bringing some curse to this place.”

Ghost sighed.

“He’s been through a lot recently. That-”

“Lamia.”

“-lamia,” Ghost continued, “and her break-in probably was the last straw for him.”

“I see…”

Ghost watched as your eyes shifted, a ponderous look emerging on your face as you seemed to process this new take on prior events. He felt a small smile creep onto his face, under his mask, as you fell into deep thought, clearly having really taken in what he had said. The man would’ve let you fully enter a meditative state if it weren’t for the small splodge of dried toothpaste he noticed on the corner of your mouth.

“Oh, Y/N.” His rumbling voice snapped you right out of your trance. “You’ve got a little something on your mouth.”

“Where?” you asked, brows furrowing.

Your hand began to hover at various places around your face as a non-verbal game of ‘hot-n-cold’ ensued, with you trying to gauge whether you were near the right spot or not from Ghost’s expressions… which of course was incredibly difficult, because most of Ghost’s face was concealed.

Eventually, Ghost couldn’t take it anymore.

“Here, let me.”

Before you could even give or deny permission, he reached forward, swiping the blob away with his thumb. His touched weighed heavy on you, the sensation lingering as he drew his hand away. A shudder, confusingly hot, spread through you.

It… it was nice to feel the hand of another just touch you. It felt affectionate, and the way it felt menial, simple… you wanted him to do it again.

You couldn’t help but smile giddily.

“Thank you,” you said as you tried to locate exactly where his hand had been, “I’ll be around in the barracks, so if you need me to get you anything, just let me know.”

“Sure, Y/N.”

With that, he watched you hurry off. Then, he turned around and continued on his quest to find some tissues.

As Ghost continued down the corridor, he finally found himself at the fire exit. He stopped in his tracks, looking around for clues as to how he’d gotten here. The mess hall was back where he came…

He was quick to realise his error: you. When he saw you off, he went down the wrong way, taking him to the fire exit, and beyond that, the woods the base sat at the edge of.  Ghost was about to take his leave and retrace his steps when he heard something. A rustle, then a call.

He wasn’t sure why, but he felt himself being drawn to the incessant cawing coming from around the corner, just outside. Slowly, making sure his steps were as quite as possible, Ghost crept across the threshold and onto the soil.

There, on the ledge of a window, was a small bird.

Ghost cocked his head to one side, uncertain as to why such an innocuous thing had grabbed his attention.

Then, for the first time, all day, Simon Riley felt hungry.

A warmth began build in his stomach, churnings threatening to surmount into a loud grumble. He didn’t want to give himself away to the poor thing, not when it was perfectly faced away from him, chittering away at whatever was on the other side of the glass.

Ghost’s eyes were focused, as his surroundings began to blur.

Hackles raised, he lowered himself a little, placing one foot carefully in front of the other. Under his mask, his mouth was filling with saliva, his tongue running over his teeth as he grew nearer and nearer. His jaw was tense, mouth almost trembling with anticipation.

Blood.

He could smell it on the bird, almost see it pumping throughout its body. The creature was filled with sweet, sweet red nectar.

Riley could barely contain himself, his hand ready to wrap around its neck and-

SNATCH!

SNAP!

CRUNCH!

It had been given a quick death, Ghost’s hands making short work of breaking its neck. Frenziedly, he pulled his mask up and stuffed as much as he could into his mouth, moaning in relief as he lapped up as much blood as he could take. Then, he stopped, examined the opening he had made for himself, and pulled apart its broken chest. The heart was easily squished into smithereens by his teeth, releasing more and more of what Ghost had desperately craved. Inebriated by the pleasure, he found himself losing balance, saving himself by planting a firm hand on the wall in front of him, just under the window, as he continued to tear and chew and lap up.

As he did so, he felt an ache emerge in his arms and legs, culminating in his extremities.

“Oh… fuck…” he mumbled between mouthfuls, digging his nails into the brickwork.

It grew, becoming more intense in his fingertips.

His muscles began to tighten, his hands locking in place, either around the bird or raking against the wall.

A distorted, inhuman groan escaped him, as claws pushed apart his nails, black and shining wet. It was in a staggered motion, in time with his fingers lengthening a little as his palm grew and thickened.

One would’ve thought this was it, that now the rest of his body would follow suit and twist and change, but instead, the painful adjustments made soon receded. In a mere minute, maybe even seconds, Simon Riley’s hands were back to looking human.

He dropped the poor bird’s corpse, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He paused, looking at the bloodstain now on his half-clenched fist. His stomach lurched, demanding to not let it go to waste. And so, Ghost licked up the red from his hand, before turning to the other one and cleaning up the mess.

“Oh God…” Mid-lick, Simon realised what he was doing. “Oh God… What the-”

He brought a hand to his mouth, wanting to gag, but nothing came of it.

What did he just do?

Did he just…

“Si! There you are! I thought you were taking too long to come back from the mess hall and Y/N said they saw you head this way.”

Quickly, he pulled the skull-print balaclava over his bloodied mouth, stuffed his hands into the pockets of his cargo pants and whipped around to face Soap.

“What’re you doing out here?” MacTavish chuckled as he jogged his way over.

“I… uh…”

Before Simon could formulate a satisfactory response, Soap caught sight of the eviscerated bird on the ground.

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus,” the Scot lamented, “A coyote probably got to it. Poor thing.”

He looked up to see Ghost was staring at it, his eyes unnervingly devoid of pity or any emotion for the matter.

“Simon?”

Soap smiled uneasily as he saw him snap back to the here and now.

“Sorry.” Ghost spoke with a slightly quivering voice. “Spaced out for a moment.”

The sergeant eyed him, and Ghost felt himself tense a little.

“Shall we head back inside?”

“Yeah.”

“Come on, then. That cold’s clearly going to your brain.” Soap gestured for him to follow.

“Right!” Ghost chuckled.

Soap couldn’t shake the feeling something was off with the lieutenant, but he couldn’t quite put a finger on what it was, nor did he want to ask about it for fear that Riley might push back, and harshly. Ghost had never liked to feel interrogated; he had a tendency to lash out like a cornered animal would.

Besides, it was probably just that he was feeling poorly. Colds can make people a little delirious from time to time.

As they entered the base, Soap noticed there was a distinctive smell in the air. A vaguely metallic musk, which seemed to be hovering around Ghost.

“No offence, LT,” Soap nudged him. “But I think all that sweatin’ I made you do with blankets and everythin’ is starting to… make itself known.”

“Hmm?”

“With all due respect, Simon, you smell like a wet dog,” he said bluntly.

Ghost stopped and looked at Soap sceptically. Then, he raised his arm and took a whiff to see for himself.

“Shit, you’re right. I need a fuckin’ shower.”

It would give him a good excuse to get the last of the blood out anyway.