#i really love 'johnny' as a nickname in general

[afurtivecake]

can we talk about the tiny detail of zane calling jean, "johnny" for a moment because it's so good and so fucked up. i think we can be fairly certain it's not a nickname jean particularly enjoys but it's all zane calls him. it's probably a nickname that came out of not wanting to learn to pronounce 'jean' the french way. AND YET...

jean's visceral disgust to hearing that nickname coming from grayson isn't because he hates the nickname; it's because he hates hearing grayson calling him by zane's nickname.

it's like, yes it's a dumb nickname thought up by unimaginative americans and he doesn't even like it, but it's zane's, his partner's, nickname for him. and even if he doesn't like it - even if he'd rather never see zane again - the fact remains that there's a sense of familiarity and closeness associated with the name "johnny" that jean can't just shake off. grayson calls jean by that nickname because he's mimicking and mocking that closeness jean and zane have or had. and jean can't help but feel it as a violation of something that he holds close.

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR TWENTY FOUR

in which you and eddie win the bet.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 7k+

→ a/n: oh, holy fuck. holy fucking shit. i have no words, because i know it's not really over yet (we still have an epilogue, friends! don't forget that!) but... i did it. i finished another fic. that's just... insane?

thank you to everyone who has been so very kind and supportive of this fic. i owe you all the world. i'm sure i'll either make a sappy post between now and thursday, or i'll get extra sappy in the a/n on the epilogue, but for now - please know you have all my love. <3

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

24:00 ─────────────── ㅇ 24:00

DINGUS: hey, i facetimed them for last hour’s proof. had to work out when they wanted me to head over and pick her up. 

BIRDIE: both still alive? both still well? 

DINGUS: so it seemed. 

ARGYLE  😎: what a relief! I knew they had it in them

JOHNNY BOY: They still have to last one more hour. 

NANCE: They’ll last the hour. Have a little faith, babe. 

JOHNNY BOY: Still don’t like the fact we’ve just started calling them instead of requesting the photo proof. I mean, how do we not know they’re lying? Did you talk to both of them when YOU called, Nance? 

NANCE: Yes, I told you guys that.

NANCE: Besides, you guys already know that Eddie hates having his picture taken. We’re lucky we ever got picture proof to begin with.

DINGUS: also i JUST facetimed them??? physically saw them?? your lack of trust in me and nance kind of hurts jon

BIRDIE: @NANCE hey can you call ME babe next? 

HOUR TWENTY FOUR – 4:00 PM

“Hey there, love birds. Glad to see you didn’t kill each other.”

Steve. 

You wait for Eddie’s arm to leave you, for him to put space between the two of you, but he doesn’t. He keeps you pressed flush to his side as if the sudden arrival of a friend doesn’t make the slightest bit of difference. 

“Hey, Harrington,” he even casually greets first. 

He’s making no move to get up off the floor. 

Just a little bit longer. Let me sit here and live in this moment a little bit longer.

“Munson,” Steve nods to Eddie before setting his sights on you, “Doll. Nice to see you, kind of glad I’m not having to fish you out of the canals.” 

You feel it — Eddie’s arm tenses behind you ever so slightly at Steve’s nickname. Clearly, it’s still a sore spot for him to work through. 

“I was feeling generous,” Eddie shrugs as if he hadn’t just revealed a flash of jealousy to you. You’re not even sure if he knows that you felt it. But it was there, in the slightest tightening of his grip and the flexing of his bicep behind your shoulder.

“Generous? I think you were feeling friendly,” Steve waves his hand between the two of you, as if he thought he was pointing out the obvious. 

If he thought this was close, he’d faint at the imagery of you on the kitchen counter, Eddie’s face between your legs as he begged for you to let him touch you. 

Just as you had noticed Eddie’s jealousy, he notices the way you suddenly heat up, shifting in your seat ever so slightly. That pull on the corner of his lips tells you all you need to know. You kind of hate how easily the two of you can finally read each other. You kind of love the way he’s looking at you as if he’s thinking the exact same thing. 

“Do I get my free punch now?” you finally speak up, tone flat as you muster a glare in Steve’s direction. You’re forgoing all polite and pretend oblivion. 

Every single one of you here knows what happened. The bare bones of it, at least.

Eddie looks at you curiously, “Excuse me?” 

Steve only grins, holding out his arms as if welcoming you, “Take your best shot.” 

You stand quickly, and Steve even flinches. He clearly had thought it was all a bit, but you were deathly serious. After the night you’d had, you wanted to punch something, anything. 

“Hold on,” Eddie fumbles to follow you as you stand in front of Steve, your eyebrow cocked as you pause, “Hold on, why are you punching Harrington?” 

“Oh, I don’t know. ‘She’d never go for me, why would she go for you?’” you remind him, and fully expect for hurt to flash across his face. Instead, merriment continues to tug on his lips, “That ring a bell?”

“It might,” Eddie drawls, slowing down his movement to stand more casually, no longer in a rush to break up the fight. His eyes flash with something, with some sort of affection as your hand curls into a fist threateningly and you continue to glare daggers at Steve, “‘S cute to see you defending my honor, sweetheart.” 

Your knees almost physically wobble. The nickname that once struck such anger and irritation in you has become your favorite thing, something that can so easily elicit such a physical reaction. Any taunting has dissipated from his tone when he falls from his tongue now. Adoration takes its place.

Steve looks between you two for a second before his face twists up, “God, I think I liked it better when you two hated each other.” 

“Never really hated each other,” Eddie corrects Steve, but his eyes never leave yours. 

“Right, must have slipped my mind.”

One of the questions that had been torturing you has now been answered — Eddie would, in fact, be acting differently around your friends. It’s almost enough that you feel no need to punch Steve.

Almost.

“Where do you want it?” you tear your gaze from Eddie, looking back to Steve now expectantly, “Cheek? Nose? Chin? Jaw?”

Steve’s eyes widen. “My God, have you just been dreaming of this moment for the last hour?”

“I have.” 

Eddie leans back against the wall, still watching and still smirking as he crosses his arms. 

“I know Eddie’s your boyfriend now but-“

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you correct him quickly, but something inside of you twists at saying that.

He wasn’t your boyfriend. You two had just agreed you’d need time apart before even thinking of exploring what this new chapter will bring you two. So why does it feel so wrong? Why do you suddenly feel like a pathetic teenager, desperate to bestow some cheesy title upon her crush? 

Eddie nods when you suddenly look at him, as if he can read your mind, “I’m not her boyfriend. Just… her scary dog.”

Scary dog privilege. And God, does that moment feel light years in the past now. Years ago rather than hours ago. His promise to protect you suddenly rings truer now. If you ever did find yourself in trouble, you knew he’d answer your call. You knew now why his protection only extended to you. You finally, finally understood.

“Scary dog?” Steve squints at Eddie, and his judgmental demeanor has fully returned, “What the fuck does that even mea-“

He doesn’t get to finish the sardonic sentiment. The slap of your palm interrupts him.

“Ow!” he yelps out, head snapping from the force of the hit and hands already coming up defensively. 

Eddie pushes off the wall the moment Steve’s hands are up in the air, “Lay a hand on her in retaliation, Harrington, and I’m breaking your arm.” 

All the joking, cocky demeanor has faded. Like he had said — scary dog privilege. It applies to more than just pricks at the bar.

“I’m not,” Steve grumbles, rubbing at the red imprint now singing his cheek, “Jesus Christ, I said a punch.” 

You fight a smile, “I don’t know how to throw a punch.”

“I can teach you,” Eddie pipes up, now standing beside you, hovering in your orbit. 

“Don’t-“ Steve puts out a warning finger, “-encourage her. I only said you could punch me because I knew you couldn’t throw a punch!” he continues to cradle his face, now pouting at you, “Do you feel better now?” 

You only answer with a triumphant smile. Because your palm is stinging, and you know violence isn’t the answer, but yeah. You do feel a little bit better. 

“I don’t,” Eddie hums. He only has to take one step forward for Steve to back up, throwing out defensive eyes as he narrows his eyes, “Think I deserve to get a slap in, too, Stevie.” 

“Fuck that,” Steve spits, eyes wide with genuine fear that makes you want to giggle, “You do know how to throw a punch. If I’m letting you get a free one in, I deserve twenty four hours notice.” 

“Then consider this your notice.” 

Is this what I had always been missing out on? 

You always knew Eddie was playful with everyone, had witnessed how he joked with friends, but you’d never been included. The thought that this was the new normal makes your heart nearly burst. To be on Eddie’s side finally, to be in his good graces properly, makes you feel as if you belong more than any private movie night with Steve or impromptu dinner date with Robin. More than any night out with Nancy. More than any smoke session with Argyle, and more than any literature debate with Jonathan.

It’s as if Eddie was the missing link. You never felt you belonged, because you’d always ached for your rightful spot at his side, not just amongst the group.

The three of you stand in a makeshift circle and every single one of you smiles. Even Steve, through his slipping pout and swollen cheek, is grinning. 

Suddenly, it’s not quite as heavy as it once felt.

Everything has changed. Leaving now is not leaving forever. 

“I’d pay to see that,” you comment, taking a daring step to bump shoulders with Eddie. His eyes meet yours, his dimples come to life, and suddenly — you’re home, “Think I can get a front row seat to you beating Steve’s ass?” 

Steve starts to protest but Eddie only nods eagerly, “I think that can be arranged.” 

“I am once again reminding you two that I liked your screaming matches more than whatever this,” his hand flails, motioning to the way you two are standing closer to one another than you are him, “whole teaming-up-against-me bit is.”

“We’re not dating,” you’re reiterating as Eddie laughs out, “Stop being a crybaby.” 

You look at one another again. Another foot in the door of your newfound home, another look into your new place to rest your head. It’s as if you’re just now realizing you’ve spent the entire year missing Eddie, even as he was right there in front of you. 

“Well, God save us all when you two are finally dating,” Steve mumbles with a shake of his head.

“If-“ Eddie starts to correct, but you stop him.

It’s not an if when it comes to you two dating, you decide. It’s a when.

“I’ll send a gift basket when the day comes,” you snark. The look that Eddie sends you could heal every wound ever left behind, right then and there. 

You’re home. When Eddie throws his arm around your shoulders and Steve rolls his eyes at you two (affectionately, even if he’d deny it), you know you’re home.

—

But then, you actually do have to go home. 

You try to put it off. The three of you occupy Eddie’s living room for a while, Steve complaining about the way Robin woke him up endlessly throughout the night and how he never did finish that assignment due in his English Literature class. It reminds you that life will continue on; you have to go back to work and school, deal with daily annoyances that should seem bigger than all that’s happened with Eddie tonight, but they don’t. They all seem minuscule now, really. 

“Do we still have to send photo proof?” Eddie asks once Steve’s tirade has waned. You’re sat between the two boys, Steve’s body turned almost completely to face the two of you while you and Eddie slowly sink back into the cushions. 

You’re sure if Steve knew the activities that had taken place on this couch, he would not be sitting so comfortably. If at all.

Steve sighs at the mention of the bet, “You probably should. Jonathan’s been antsy about it the entire time. Me and Nance tried to cover for you guys, lying about calling and stuff but-“

“Why would you lie?” you inquire, uncurling a bit from your overly comfortable position to stop from falling asleep and actually participate in the conversation. 

“Because, unlike the other idiots,” Steve gives a pointed look at you and then Eddie, “We had a hunch about what was going on here. And it’s about time, by the way.” 

You think over his words for a second before you look at Eddie with sudden embarrassment, “Have you- Oh my God, have you been telling Nancy what we’ve been doing?” 

“What?” Eddie sits up straighter, looking just as panicked, “No. No, absolutely not, I-“

“What have you guys been doing?”

Both of you ignore Steve as Eddie continues on.

“-just spoke to her on the phone once or twice. But I didn’t give her any details. Have you been telling Steve what we did?” 

Steve, still being ignored, repeats himself, “What have you guys been doing?” 

“Absolutely not,” you scrunch your nose at the thought of being that honest with Steve. You loved him, truly, but not enough to tell him about those kinds of things, “I’d rather sleep in the canals than tell him.” 

“What have you guys been doing?” 

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up, and he mockingly stabs himself, “Ouch, sweetheart.”

“Not like that,” you backtrack, but more casually as the worry of Steve and Nancy knowing the truth, “I just meant-“

Eddie interrupts with a hand on your knee and a smile on his face, “I know what you meant. I’m just fucking with you. I feel the same way with Nance.” 

“Guys?” Steve grows further impatient, “I- What the fuck did you guys do? Oh my God, is it even safe to sit on this fucking couch right now?” 

“You don’t wanna know,” you say.

“No, it isn’t,” Eddie says. 

It earns him a slap on his stomach as he leans over in laughter at the way Steve launches out of his seat.

“You guys- No. No fucking way,” Steve brushes at the back of his jeans, as if they’re contaminated, “Nope. No way. You’re just fucking with me, Munson.” 

“Am I?” 

Another slap lands on Eddie’s shoulder as he laughs harder. 

“Steve,” you turn to your friend, trying to smile sweetly, “Sit back down.” 

“No.”

“You just said you don’t believe-“ 

“We should get going,” Steve insists through his blush, “You two should take your final picture and we should get going.” 

Eddie finally stops chuckling, leaning back up and against the armrest, his ankle cross in front of your shins as he stretches his legs out and sighs, “God, you should see your face right now, Harrington.” 

Steve’s scowl deepens, “It’s not funny. Take the fucking photo so we can go.” 

You make no move to dig out your phone, because you know. You know once you take this photo, you’ll be leaving, and this will all be over. Once you step foot back into that hallway, time apart begins. Learning how to navigate this new unknown with Eddie begins. It terrifies you, it saddens you, it exhausts you. You hadn’t been prepared for this part of the night.

Even before the confessions, you hadn’t given much thought to the ending of the twenty four hours. You’d assumed it would end in bloodshed and a larger than life fight, probably before the clock even ran out. You’d never assumed it could end in laughing, inside jokes between you and Eddie, in something not only bitter but also sweet. 

“Phone, sweetheart,” Eddie whispers as he leans forward and holds out his hand with the palm up, “Before we traumatize the poor guy any further.” 

“I will wait in the car, I swear to God-“ Steve starts to protest as you finally dig your phone out of your pocket. 

You’re looking down, unable to meet Eddie’s gaze in fear of him picking up on your faint sadness, as you mumble, “Get your panties out of their twist, Steve. Jesus.” 

Eddie snorts at that, right as you pass your phone over. 

Steve doesn’t comment when you willingly tell Eddie the code to unlock your phone, or the way you let him hold it rather than you. He doesn’t comment on the arm that Eddie seems to constantly keep around you now. 

He’s doing it while he can. Cherishing being able to hold you at any capacity before you leave and the distance begins. The time apart you two agreed upon won’t be for forever, but it still kills a buried part of him that had just begun to sprout roots again. A thing made of hope that he planned to tend to this time around. 

“So, how do we wanna do this?” he asks in a strained tone, as if asking that question and throttling you two closer to the finish line physically pains him.

You hope it pains him, selfishly, because it pains you. “No idea.”

“We’ve gotta make it a good one.”

“We do.” 

Eddie suddenly lights up with an idea as his thumb sweeps across your screen, opening your photos’ app and scrolling up to the first picture you two had taken at the beginning of this night. 

“Up for a trip down nostalgia road?” he teases, wiggling his brows as he holds the phone up for you to get a clearer view of the picture.

Eddie, flipping off the camera and scowling. You, hardly smiling with a pathetic thumbs up. 

“Yeah,” you breathe out, nodding slowly. 

It’s unspoken, what happens next. The camera app is opened and Eddie returns your phone to your grasp. The two of you resituate to mimic the photo as closely as possible while Steve fiddles with some of the items on Eddie’s entertainment center. 

You stretch out your arm, put your thumb up into view, blink away any tears burning the back of your eyes. Eddie’s hand has taken position as well. 

You snap the photo before you can think too hard on it. 

“Think that’ll be the winner?” Eddie curiously asks as you immediately bring the phone close to your face, swiping to view the snapshot just taken. And when you do, with the refreshed memory of that first photo, your heart physically aches. 

Almost an identical image. At a quick glance, it’s the same Eddie and the same you from the first one. But the similarities fade the moment you look closer. Eddie isn’t scowling, not genuinely – those damn dimples are even making an appearance as his eyes were squinted up in a valiant effort to fight off the smile he wears now. And your smile, your smile, is no longer half-assed. It’s something real, something full, something even a bit sad. The same face you wear when saying goodbye to an old friend and trying to hold back any tears until their train has long since left the station. You can almost physically see your vines in this photo wrapping around the two of you, clinging so desperately to avoid any separation. Time apart. You’re regretting suggesting that now. 

It’s a cute photo. A photo of two friends, if you could call yourself and Eddie that now. 

“All done?” Steve interrupts the moment, both of you and Eddie only staring at the photo. You take a peak at him out of your peripherals, and you can see it written plainly on his face – he’s feeling all the same emotions as you. Something sad, something nostalgic, something reluctant. “Not to rush the process but… I may or may not have a hot date tonight to get ready for.” 

Eddie tears his gaze from the photo, “A hot date?”

“A hot date,” Steve nods, a boyish grin gracing his lips, “And I’m picking her up in… t-minus…” he pauses, checking his watch, “Three hours.” 

“Smart move. Charm her before I rearrange your face and all.” 

Steve throws his head back in a groan, “You two won’t be letting that go any time soon, will you?” 

“Nope,” you chime in as you swipe to open up the groupchat, not offering Steve a single glance until you’ve sent off the final addition of photo proof to the rest of your friends. You consider adding some sort of sarcastic comment, some well earned bragging and a boisterous told you so, but you don’t. 

It doesn’t feel like you’ve won. Leaving this apartment, this battleground, with all the new bruises and healed wounds you’ve acquired over the span of the twenty four hours doesn’t taste like victory. Really, it tastes like… nothing. 

There’s no victory, no solid ending for you to cling to. It’s simply ending and there’s still thousands of words you have to say to Eddie. You need more time, another twenty four hours, to fill with every single thing you never told him. More casual confessions of honesty, more hours wasted in his bed, more insignificant bickering to partake in. It’s all on your tongue and desperate for attention, and yet, you know you can’t succumb to it. 

You have to go. It’s the last thing you want to do, but you have to. 

Steve checks his phone when it buzzes with the notification of your message you sent and opens his mouth, no doubt about to comment on your lack of words with the message, but you’re already standing. It’s like ripping off a bandaid. You need to get it over with, get out of this apartment before you decide you’d rather sink right into these couch cushions and decay just to ensure you never have to really leave. 

Eddie’s quick to follow. 

“Let’s go,” you say to Steve, grabbing up your bag, not looking at Eddie at the risk of losing all composure. 

Neither boy fights you, following you right up to the front door. Steve leads, opening it back up as reality slams you in the chest. As if there’s an invisible barrier here, and you know that in crossing it, you’ll be leaving a piece of yourself behind in apartment 2C. 

Leaving now is not leaving forever. 

But it sure does feel like it. 

Steve awkwardly looks over your shoulder at Eddie, some silent communication you only see his half of as he shrugs and does a timid wave, turning to leave. 

One foot hangs midair, your toes beginning to push through that barrier, when Eddie grabs you. 

“Hey,” he breathes as he wraps his fingers around your bicep, forcing you to turn to face him. You let him, your body moving to his accord but your eyes still not meeting his, “You good?” 

You take a deep breath in through your nose, “Me? Yeah. Yeah, I’m great. I’m… I’m good.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Positive?”

“Will you look at me, then?” 

Reluctantly, so very reluctantly, your eyes meet his. Big, brown doe eyes. This close to them, you can see the way they shine to match yours. You both probably look insane to Steve right now, but you don’t care. Between the sleep deprivation and all the emotions you’ve had to experience over the last day, the tears are well earned.

You almost reach out and kiss him. You almost press up onto your toes and put your lips on his, almost pour every emotion you’re feeling in the moment into a far from innocent peck. 

But you don’t.

“We did it,” you croak blandly, “We won the bet.” 

As if the Universe is screaming in agreement, you can hear a chime in the distance signifying the hour. Probably the church you recall passing in the middle of the night when the two of you had ventured off to the parking garage. It almost feels as if it’s mocking you. 

“We did it,” he echoes as his grip on your bicep loosens. You expect him to let it fall back to his side, nearly begging out loud for him to retract his touch from you so you don’t do something stupid like stay.

You swallow down thick emotions, just like molasses, “I guess I’ll see you around, yeah?” 

Time. You two needed time apart. 

“Yeah,” he sighs, as he does the one thing you had somehow hoped he wouldn’t yet yearned for ardently – the hand that had wrapped around your arm now cups your cheek, thumb stroking your skin so softly, you nearly melt in his doorway, “I’ll see you around, sweetheart.” 

It doesn’t taste like victory, yet it doesn’t taste quite like loss. It’s bittersweet. 

You still don’t kiss him. And he doesn’t kiss you, even as his touch against your cheek lingers so heavily before he pulls away. 

You cross the barrier and find you were right. You feel that piece of you tear off and flutter to the ground, and you begin to wonder when you’ll have the chance to come back and reclaim not just it, but Eddie.

—

Steve didn’t speak much on the drive back to your dorm, and you’re sort of grateful. 

If you were a good friend, you’d ask more about his date. You’d get him giddy as he spills the details about this girl and his plans for the night, chastise and tease him all in good fun. You’d be smiling and making plans for coffee tomorrow morning so he could tell you all about how the date went. 

But you’re not a good friend.

You sit in your silence the entire drive, and you pick at your nails, and you selfishly stay focused on Eddie. On all of your own qualms and all your own issues, worrying about what comes next and already feeling your chest tighten the moment you start to think about when see you around will come.

The two of you never discussed that, did you? There was no discussion of just how much time was needed apart. 

Steve shifts the car into park in the west lot, right outside your building, “Alright, stop making your cuticles bleed for two seconds and tell me what’s wrong.” 

Your hands pause exactly as he requests, caught red-handed. “Nothing’s wrong.” 

“Something’s obviously wrong. I told you to go get him – and yet, he’s still not your boyfriend.” 

“It’s complicated,” your voice finally breaks. There’s no tears this time, just confusion and desperation clawing at your throat. 

Because, was it complicated? Was it really?

The last year was what had been complicated. All the pretending and the fights and the tension. All the false beliefs and all the lies overlapping with one another. That was complicated. But this? The feelings you harbored and finally acknowledged for the boy you just left behind? 

That wasn’t really complicated. 

And Steve knows this, you can hear it in his sigh, “I think that’s the issue.” 

“What?” you turn your head towards him, scrunch your brows, even your breathing and try to shoo away the image of Eddie’s wet eyes. 

You wish you would have kissed him. 

“Look, i just think you two keep making things complicated when they should be simple-” 

You didn’t want to hear it. Childish as it might be, you do not want to have to hear this speech. Because you know Steve’s right.

“I’ll see you later, Steve.”

“Wait-”

You don’t wait. You slam the door in his face once you’ve got your footing outside of his car, truly earning your title of bad friend.

Awful. You weren’t just a bad friend, you were an awful friend. 

And yet you can’t think on it, leaving it be until you had the time to properly dwell on how you’d apologize later. All you care about now is getting inside your dorm, moping and being miserable on your own. Your strides are longer and faster than they were even when you’d backtracked to Eddie’s apartment, determined to get behind closed doors and to properly mourn all that had been gained and all that had been lost in the last twenty four hours. 

Twenty four hours ago, you were reluctant to even step foot in Eddie’s apartment. And now, it’s the only place you really want to be. 

Luck refuses to be on your side as you slam into your dorm room, sweaty and tired and just fucking emotional, only to find your roommate there. There will be no dramatic crying, no cinematic scene with your back pressed to the door as you fight back sobs, it seems. 

“You look rough,” is all she notes, sparing you a second glance before she returns to whatever she was tasking on at her desk. Her makeup, you think.

Good. Maybe she’ll be heading out, leaving you to suffer alone like you wanted. 

“Yeah,” is all you can answer her as the door clicks shut behind you. 

Rough’s a good way to put it. 

“Think you’ll be here tonight?” she asks, still distracted, “Troy and I are hanging out today – he spent the night here last night, by the way – and if you’re gone again, I was thinking about inviting him back over. Only if you’re cool with it, or already have plans, though. Our RA has this final and I didn’t even have to sneak him in last night-”

She continues on her rambles, never looking your way as you drop your bag onto your bed, and quickly lift yourself to lay right next to it. 

Normal. You were having to go back to fucking normal. Your worries were no longer revolving around Eddie or making it through the next hour, no longer preoccupied with keeping your friends up to date in order to ensure a payout of five hundred dollars – now, you just had to worry about boys named Troy and possible room checks by your RA. Finals to be taken, essays to be finished, shifts to be covered at the diner so you’d have enough cash to go out with your friends next weekend. 

You should be relieved. But it all just feels impossibly heavy. 

Your roommate catches on quickly, and when you only reply to let her know you’ll be here tonight, she stops talking. She focuses on finishing her makeup and gathering her things, hardly even offering you a goodbye as you shift to curl up more comfortably in the center of your mattress. 

You should also know better than what you decide to do next. You can’t help it, though, as you tug your phone out of your pocket and unlock it. You don’t listen to the voice inside your head that screams stop as you click on your photos’ app. Ignore the animal inside that whines as you scroll, and you click on the very first photo of you and Eddie. 

It’s painful, but you have nothing better to do in your solitude. You don’t linger on the first photo too long, still being fresh in your mind, before quickly swiping along. 

The set of matching photos you and Eddie took of one another, black and white socks covering touching toes visible in each one. You nearly laugh at the Darth Vader figurine both of you took turns holding. You nearly cry when you realize you were, in fact, smiling in your photo. A small one, a forced one, but there nonetheless. 

The selfie from the bar, your amaretto sour and Eddie’s whiskey & coke lifted towards the camera. The way both of you had tried to look annoyed, over exaggerated and furrowed brows paired with pouting lips. Your thumb swipes subconsciously over the photo for a second too long, and you’re startled when you realized it was a live photo. The moment after the photo was taken, Eddie’s eyes had moved to look at you. And in that live photo, you watched every ounce of annoyance evaporate. Leaving behind something you recognized now. Leaving behind eyes sparkling with a brief glimpse of adoration. 

There’s something else you better recognize now in the next photo. The picture you’d taken when Eddie had locked himself into his room, only opening up long enough to insist you took the photo, the one that guaranteed you your money. You had been right – there was a flood of regret on his face. You hadn’t imagined it. But you had also been wrong; he was never looking at your own rotted vines and mourning them; he was looking at his own, tethered and shredded, regretting that he had ever taken an axe to them. You don’t press down to see this live photo. You don’t want to witness that door slamming in your face again. 

The two photos taken in his bed. The one in which both your faces are scrunched from the flash, in which you can see the physical wall between you two.  And the one in the dark, where you both wear tired smiles, unaware of the night to come.

The photo on the bike, a helmet mostly covering your blushing cheeks, but not Eddie’s. 

The photo from the parking garage, meant just for you two. 

The photos from Betty’s. You don’t linger on the one of you; you do linger on the one of him. 

Each swipe only makes your heart ache more viciously, painful and sharp reminders of the night you had had. You don’t have to press down on another single photo to witness the live outplay of it – each memory is running through your mind in real time as you retrace your steps of the night. Twenty four hours, twenty four steps. With each photo, you watch yourself grow more relaxed, watch smiles come easier without your awareness and finally pinpoint all the care Eddie had been looking at you with the entire time. 

You notice the lack of photos from the last few hours. You nearly scorn yourself for it, but there had been no time. There was no time for memories frozen in time amongst all that hard honesty and those sacrilegious revelations.

Except there was one more moment in time frozen for you. You’re quick to exit the photo app finally, leaving behind that picture of Eddie with full cheeks only to open up your text messages.

Your text thread with him. Filled to the brim with bad pastry jokes and underlying need. You remember that urgent want to comfort him, to remind him he was enough. To erase all the hurt and all the old scars caused by a life from before your time with him you still hadn’t become fully privy to. 

You’re still rereading the last message, bet you wouldn’t say that to my face, when suddenly a new message appears. 

EDDIE: Make it home okay? 

Space and time. They are the last things you want, that you need from him right now. 

YOU: yep. my roommate just left. 

EDDIE: Is your dorm bed as comfortable as you remember? 

YOU: like sleeping on a cloud. 

You wish you were still in his bed. You wish you were back at the beginning, with him rather than all alone. 

EDDIE: Oh shit, you’re trying to sleep? Sorry

EDDIE: I’ll stop bothering you and leave you to it. Sweet dreams. 

No, you nearly scream at your phone screen, come back and bother me. Bother me for the rest of my days for all I care. 

You’d never sleep another wink if it meant having him. You remember what you told him about starting over, starting fresh. And maybe taking a much needed nap would offer that. Maybe sleeping for more than thirty minutes at a time would be the smart choice, letting you awake with a clearer mind and better intentions.

But you don’t want that. The animal inside still clings to all that has happened. 

Something about that makes you brave.

YOU: i never said that, and you’re not bothering me.

EDDIE: Didn’t you say you wanted a nap earlier?

YOU: that was earlier. i’m wide awake now. 

An internal battle continues to take place. Your mind whispers liar, knowing damn well that if you put down the phone and turned your cheek to bury into your pillow, you’d be out like a light within seconds. 

EDDIE: Ah. I see. 

You fiddle with your thumbs for a second, stomach churning as you try to come up with a response to keep the conversation going. Technically, when you had said the two of you needed time apart after all that had happened, it should have meant interactions like this as well. Texting each other was not offering each other space.

But he’d started it. That was on him.

YOU: do you remember what i said about space? and starting over? 

EDDIE: I do. I’m not very good with giving you space, it seems. 

YOU: well, considering you’re on the other side of town, i’d say we’ve got the physical sense of space down. 

There’s a pause in his replies that causes you to sit up. A falter. You curse him for not having a smartphone as well, for not having the privilege of being notified whether he was just taking his time typing or if he had put the phone down. You really hoped it was the former, practically wished upon every star that that was what was happening. You hoped he was glued to his phone as you were yours. 

Maybe he still had that photo he’d taken a few hours ago, the one you swore you’d heard him take as you dozed off. Maybe he was still staring at it like you had done with all of your photos. 

EDDIE: About that…

You stare at the message, the hidden meaning behind it completely lost on you. 

YOU: About what? 

EDDIE: I’m not home right now. 

Your heart clenches. 

YOU: You’re not?

EDDIE: I’m not. 

YOU: Eddie, where the hell are you right now?

Your mind reels with all the possible choices. He could be at the bar, at the parking garage, at Nancy’s place. He could be anywhere. 

But then he only sends a picture in response, and you know where he is. 

You nearly topple into three other students from how you sprint down the hallway. You don’t even grab your key to your dorm room, skipping the elevators and nearly throwing yourself down the few flights of stairs in haste. You don’t care how your lungs cry out, you don’t care how your thighs burn, you don’t care how your shoulder aches from how roughly you slam open that front door of the building. You don’t care about the strange looks you get on your way out. You don’t care about the odd angle you twisted your ankle in on that last step. 

The only thing you care about is the boy standing there, helmet off and balanced on the seat of his parked motorcycle that he leans on, arms crossed as his eyes light up at the erratic sight of you. 

You don’t even check for any traffic in the parking lot as you make your way to him. 

“I’m sorry,” he calls out once you’re close enough to hear him, “I know we said give it time and shit, but you left, and I just-” 

He doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence. 

When you make it to Eddie, you’re in no business to carry anymore regret with you. This time, you don’t just yearn to kiss him, to wrap your arms around him, to pour out all those emotions you were feeling across tongues. 

You do it. You kiss him, uncaring for all the stares of fellow students. He nearly falls backwards into his bike from the force of you colliding against him, but he’s quick to catch himself as his hands find your waist. 

“You-” you pull back, gasping a bit to start to scold him before his lips follow and interrupt you, “Fucking-” Push and pull. You retreat, and he follows, “Idiot.” 

His hands squeeze around you, tugging you a stumbling step closer so that your chests are flushed against one another.

“I am,” he mumbles against your lip, the tip of his nose grazing over your cheek as he refuses to let anymore distance be put between the two of you, “I am a fucking idiot. I’m sorry.” 

“Stop apologizing.” 

His hands cradle your face and he kisses you this time, reaffirming that he felt everything you had. All those words you hadn’t said, all his own admissions he’d withheld, spill between clashing teeth and eager lips. He takes your breath away, shamelessly, greedily. And you let him. You offer all the air that’s left in your lungs up to him on a silver platter. 

When the two of you finally pull apart, eyes opening wide and foreheads pressing tightly to one another, he’s grinning like a fool. 

“So, I had a better idea than time apart,” he murmurs, “What if we just… start over?” 

“Start over?” you question wearily. 

He nods, “Yeah. Just… Just pretend this last year and all our bullshit didn’t happen. Start fresh. Let me not be a massive dick this time.” 

His hands drop from your face as he takes a step back, taking you in fully. You want to shy under his gaze, but instead you can only melt. His fondness is a warmth like no other, capturing you by the crown of your head and pouring down over you in waves. 

“Okay,” you finally agree, feeling your own cheeks spread and ache in a lovesick smile. Coming home, that’s what this felt like. “Okay, we can start over.” 

“Great,” the homecoming warmth only spreads as he straightens up his posture. A very serious look overcomes his face, laced with determination for a brief second until he relaxes it into a friendly smile, doleful eyes meeting yours as every single flower he had ever planted in your chest blooms like a spring morning. He sticks his hand out, nearly making you snort, “Hi, I’m Eddie.” 

You can’t help it. His front door is open, a warm glow within welcoming you. 

You ignore his hand entirely as you impulsively reach up and interlock your fingers at the nape of his neck, tugging him into you for another kiss. 

He pulls back far too soon for your liking, but his hands have also found their spot against the small of your back, “Do you greet all the new strangers you meet like this?” 

You roll your eyes, “Shut up.” 

He pulls you back in for a chaste peck, and it tastes like home. 

“I like you,” you whisper into the limited space between the two of you, “I mean it. I like you so fucking much, Edward Munson.” 

He grins, cracking your chest wide open with hope, “The feeling’s mutual.”

taglist: @catherinnn @haylaansmi @gaysludge @paprikaquinn @manda-panda-monium @audhd-dragonaut @blushingquincy @hellkaisersangel @eddieslittlewh0re @ajkamins @prettyboy200 @munsonzzgf @blue-eyed-lion @digwhatudug @madaboutjoe @wickedslashdivine @sweet-villain @somespicystuff @big-ope-vibes @jadequeen88 @sylviin @emma77645 @notbeforelong @lolalanaie @lo-siento-ama @happy-and-alone @micheledawn1975 @aysheashea @moon-huny @munsonswrld @bambipowerblueaddition @averagestudent03 @bakugouswh0r3 @mattefic @mxcheese @bietchz @nativity-in-black @stezzil @vngelis @coley0823 @folklorebau @luvmunson86 @theherothesavior @keene200213 @hargrovesswifee @m-chmcl-rmnc @cherrymedicine13 @iunaelumen777

taglist is now closed.

[slvtforfiction]

Could you write a Johnnie guilbert x f reader where the reader deals with sh. The reader is a famous song writer and YouTuber, she gets comments about her scars and just hate comments in general and johnnnie comforts her?

Late night hate

☆ yess ofcourse x

☆ Johnnie Guilbert X Reader

☆ Fluff/Comfort

☆ Cw: Self harm

☆ Hey guys! Before anything else I would ask you to request anything you want because I've lost a lot of motivation and it would really help! :D (Please look at pinned post to see if requests are open.)

☆ Creds to @cafekitsune for dividers :)

Masterlist | Pinned post

I finished editing my video and smiled to myself as I quickly posted it. I walked downstairs to where Johnnie was sat watching TV and smiled at him as I walked into the kitchen.

“Pumpkin!” He yelled lightheartedly and I giggled at the nickname, “Yeah?” I said as I walked back into the living room, “Cuddle?” He asked like a toddler and I giggled again.

“Give me a minute and I’ll be back I just wanna make a snack.” I said to him and he nodded as I walked back into the kitchen.

I grabbed some strawberries,kiwis,apples and honeydew melon and began to cut them up to make a fruit bowl.

As I finished cutting up the last kiwi I put it into the bowl and walked back into the living room. I sat down next to Johnnie with the bowl in hand and lied down on his chest.

I ate my fruit as Johnnie took little bits for himself and I cosied up to his chest as I watched whatever was on the TV.

After finishing my fruit bowl,I sat it on the table and pulled out my phone to check how my video was doing.

Johnnie looked over my shoulder as I checked on it,equally as curious as me. This wasn’t something I usually posted so I didn’t expect much from it.

However when I looked at the videos analytics it looked to be doing better than the previous videos I’ve been doing.

I smiled as I clicked onto the comments and began reading through,though I was quickly losing my smile.

Imagine showing ur fucking scars,wtaf.

^56 replies

She’s such an attention whore 🤣

^34 replies

Fucking emo

^21 replies

Y/n don’t listen to them x

^- shut up emo

^ view more replies

What’s her issue 💀

^15 replies

Go back to wearing jumpers u fucking emo

^- Leave her alone??

^- Maybe she should stop cutting 🤣

^view more replies

I stopped reading after that.

Johnnie looked down at me and pulled me into a bigger hug as I began crying into his shoulder.

He didn’t say anything,he just held me as I broke down into his shoulder.The silence of the house interrupted by my tears.

“It’s okay.” He said softly as he lifted me up,he sat me in his lap and I kept my face in his shoulder,not daring to look up.

He rubbed my back,whispering sweet nothings as he softly rocked me back and forth. “These scars do not mean you are ugly,these scars show you’ve survived a battle and you should be proud of yourself.” He told me as he hooked his index finger under my chin to make me look at him.

I sniffled and nodded my head,wiping my tired eyes and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “Are you okay,princess?” He asked and I nodded my head tearfully.

He wiped away my tears,kissing my lips softly as he held his hands around my face. I smiled and giggled as he began kissing around my face endlessly.

“I love you,loser.” I said light heartedly and he smiled “I love you too,idiot.” He said and I giggled.

If you or anyone you know struggles with self harm,you’re not alone. Please reach out to a trusted family member,friend or professional.

Samaritans- 116 123

Shout- 85258

Childline- 0800 1111

[vampsquerade]

Hello, hope you're having a good day/night

I was wondering if you could write some platonic hc's for Ghost or König (or both if you're up for it), just some general comfort, interactions with them.

Got 2 specifications tho, could the reader be gender neutral and an artist?

Thanks sm for reading this, and thank you even more if you decide to write it <3

And If the spot isn't taken (incase of future interactions), can I be the 💧(tear/water drop) anon?

hello, i’m having an amazing night as i’m currently writing this before publication! i hope you’ve been doing well and you most certainly can be know. as tear anon 💧 i’m going to go ahead and write both of them just for you <3 thank you for requesting so so much i wish you a wonderful weekend and i hope you enjoy :,)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ghost and König Platonic Headcanons

Trigger Warnings: slight mentions of trauma bonding, slow but shaky friendships,

Ghost

☆ Simon as an ally is reliable, but Simon as a friend? He was a very interesting character

☆ He always loves to tell new jokes to those he tends to be closer to, often to their disdain because of how bad they were

☆ So when nobody else liked them, Simon would go to you and tell them to you because you thought they were laughably bad

☆ It helped Simon get closer to you as well and before you knew it, the two of you were friends

☆ The two of you would constantly exchange complex inside jokes to each other, often turning some heads because of how little it made sense to them

☆ And every single time Johnny asked about what you guys meant, you’d only tease him further

☆ Whenever you were in a terrible mood, Simon knew when to back off and not test you further, even at times going out of his way to calm and comfort you

☆ Gives you weird and specific nicknames; the man can’t really socialize in a way that isn’t mildly aggressive, what can you do?

☆ If you’re younger than him, he practically begs you not to be like him once you’re his age. Simon would rather die than have someone he was close to be just like him

☆ He’s the more mature one of you two in general though, always has to stop you from starting fights with people

☆ When Simon found out you were an artist, he teased you for how much you made sketches of him and the others

☆ You panicked slightly because you tried your best to hide that in sketches of wildlife, buildings, and other things you’d seen as you traveled the world

☆ Simon would compliment your art a lot however, often appreciating the work you did

☆ He’d also sneak up on you while you were sketching someone just for that little spook that made you mess up

☆ Obviously apologizes for it as well, and knows when to not say anything that might startle you and cause you to mess up

☆ He has also paid you money for a sketch of him you made that he really liked

König

♪ Despite his large stature, the Austrian man was a pretty chill and gentle guy

♪ König and you clicked when sent out on a mission after you joined Kortac, despite his anxiety slightly getting to him and him thinking you were gonna bully him

♪ Shared interest in sniping between the two of you is the reason why you two became friends so quickly

♪ König’s like the big brother between the two of you, whether you’re older or younger than him

♪ He worries about you whenever he doesn’t hear from you, when you get injured, and all that

♪ König is hellbent on getting revenge on whoever injured you too, he’s the scary dog friend confirmed

♪ Outside of working together however, he’s always the one to send you letters or come see you in person to hang out

♪ He prefers to hang out at either of your homes, but he doesn’t mind stepping out for something

♪ König’s anxiety slightly holds him back from engaging with the outside world, but having a friend with him makes him feel okay

♪ He’s definitely trauma dumped on you but that was when he came back from a mission so distraught it brought it out of him, and you were more than happy to comfort the giant and let him know he’s okay. You’re the soft comfort sibling to him

♪ When König found you one day making a painting while you were at home, he asked if he could watch you because the brush against the canvas was a really nice thing to see

♪ König’s asked a few times if you could help him draw something and has been happy ever since then

♪ He loves when he catches you sketching him too while out in the field and you’ve found the time to do so

♪ König loves posing for you as well, often incorporating some of his weapons and grenades. He also loves helping you with foreshortening and perspective

♪ Only trusts you with sketching his face, but it has to absolutely only be headshots

♪ Sometimes König falls asleep when he’s sitting next to you watching you sketch, as the pencil’s graphite against the paper relaxes him a bit

[starsurface]

These were apart of the other request for the Baby Regressor <3

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

CG Kitana w/ Baby Regressor Hcs

💙 Oh my goodness she loves you

💙 Is really good with a lot of regression ages, but does specialize with baby and toddler regressors

💙 Your just so cute!! How could she not adore you? 🥺

💙 She is a princess, making you her little prince/princess/royalty

💙 Is really good with clingy regressors too

💙 My- I mean, our women here is strong, and she'll totally show off her strength 💪

💙 She'll princess carry you to bed when you're getting sleepy

💙 She also just likes to carry you around on her hip just because <3

💙 Do NOT ever worry about being too big or heavy, you're as light as a feather to her >:(

💙 Enjoys playing dress up with you, but mostly dresses you in soft onesies and such

💙 You get the softest onesies in all the Realms, fr

💙 Would be overjoyed if you want to dress like her, but will make sure to get you a safer onesie version of her outfit

💙 If you like to mess with her fans, she'll get one without the blades so you can play with them

💙 Your babysitters are probably Tanya, Mileena, Syzoth, and Tomas (Did you know that he helps Mileena train and Kitana helps Syzoth train?)

💙 Maybe also Liu Kang (she only trusts a handful of people with you)

💙 But if you really want someone like Johnny to babysit you? She won't mind . . . But him? 😒 (they're friends, she's just joking)

💙 Absolutely hates leaving you with others when your small though

💙 She just gets really busy sometimes with big kid princess and General work, but she'll make sure to make time for you!!

💙 Would love to set up little playdates with either Mileena or Syzoth

💙 But if your too little or shy for playdates, that's okay, you can just stay with Momma for the time being <3

💙 Sometimes she'll carry you around on her hip if she has to do work really quickly

💙 ^ Of course only if your comfy being outside her room while small

💙 Plus . . . no one can make fun of you, just like with Kotal Kahn, you have the entire Riyal House on your back

💙 If your also comfy with it, she'd love to take you out to the royal gardens!!

💙 You can sit on her lap and watch the butterflies fly by

💙 Or go over and see the pretty flowers

💙 You can even have a picnic!! :D. (She'll have the royal chef make only pastries and yummy snacks, per your request)

💙 . . . She'll also make sure you eat more healthier options though 😒

💙 She's so up for making you different kinds of bottles of milk!! (Like Honey Milk, or those other little milk things I've seen online)

💙 Favorite CG nicknames are Mama, Momma, Mommy, Sissy, and ‘Tana

💙 Any type of grabby hands and babbles is so accepted though, she'll scoop you up in a heartbeat!!

💙 Favorite little nicknames for you are Sweetie, Princess/Prince/Little Royalty, Sweetheart, Little Warrior, Honey

💙 Will redirect you to your paci if you chew on her fingers, that's not sanitary, sweetheart <3

💙 Or a chewie!! She'd love to get you one of those baby chew rings in your favorite color

💙 Likes to lay beside you during tummy time

💙 Your so cute, babbling and showing her your stuffies or playboys

💙 I'm not saying she's rich (she is, she's literally a princess) . . . I am saying that if you asked, she'd dedicate an entire section of her bedroom as your designated baby area

💙 A little playmat with toys and such, just for you 🥺

💙 If your a bratty baby, she'll find every act you do adorable (and put her foot down)

💙 She scold you if you push your sippy or bottle off somewhere, but will coe if it was entirely an accident

💙 Accidents happen sometimes, although she knows if you're doing it on purpose, it's like a sixth sense of hers!!

💙 She's a stickler for the rules 😒

💙 You get lucky because your smaller, she doesn't really send you to time out or lectures you

💙 It's mostly gentle scolding, you're probably too little to understand what you did wrong

💙 Will not scold you if she knows you've had a bad day or are feeling icky though

💙 She'll gently rock you, suggest you take a bathe and change into something comfy, and make you a bottle or get you applesauce

💙 She'd get you one of those little baby mobiles if you have any adult sized crib (she'd buy it for you if she notices you even just longing for it)

💙 She loves cuddle time, and will gently pet your hair and kiss your forehead

💙 She's very soft when it comes to nap or bedtime

💙 She's also insistent that you get a nap, babies like you shouldn't be up for so long, sweetheart!!

💙 She'll make you yummy warm milk, or just water in a baby bottle, and will bottle feed you and rock you to sleep

💙 She doesn't allow hair pulling, but one time she tried to remove your bottle from your mouth and the grip was so tight, she learnt her lesson

💙 Also doesn't really allow hitting, but if you giggle and whack something soft, like a pillow, she'll laugh and copy you, making it a little game between you two

💙 Knows a lot of different kinds of hair styles from helping Mileena and Tanya with their hairs, and loves to put your hair into something pretty

💙 She'd probably get a lot of your regression items in a baby blue to match her aesthetic, but if you want a different color just tell her

💙 Plays with stuffies like a champ!!

💙 They all get their own voices and she knows all their names (she didn't spend hours memorizing them, your being silly, sweetheart)

💙 Adores babbling of any kind, and treats it like a full blown conversation

💙 Is also really good at knowing what you want (it took a few times, but she got in the hang out it)

💙 Very sweet and comforting if you need a nappies of any sort, and never makes you feel ashamed or silly for them (not that there's any reason to feel silly, darling, your regression is your regression)

💙 She'd make a sticker chart to make sure your on task for eating and such, and will treat you to ice cream or a new stuffie at the end of the week

💙 And don't worry too much if you miss a few times!! Things like these take time to adapt to, she'll still give you your special little treat <3

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

CG Bi-Han with Baby Regressor will be next!! :D

And JFJSBDBAKWK, I love Kitana. 🥺

[inncubus-honey]

fantasy c.o.d men au

a/n: a new fandom! maybe, just depends how much I write about mw2. also the nicknames are for a gn! reader, despite some being more feminine then others, but these are for a gn reader. I hope y'all like it for another fandom writing apart stray kids and now kinda redacted stuff. feedback is always appreciated. also I added references to some games with the weapon choices for the boys. hehehe.

also I hope it makes sense that the fantasy aspect is their weapons and little blurbs with you in the world; I could always expand on it in another post if y'all want to see it

c.o.d men x gn! reader

Word Count: 3.2k

price- longsword

obviously he uses a longsword. hes been on the royal guard since he was a young boy, like 13-16. his father had been part of the royal guard when he was a boy. he thought it was the coolest thing ever; protecting people and using such a great weapon really drove him to join after his fathers death in battle. but he then left the guard with gaz to help around the country as mercenaries.

you bandaged johns arm as he sat with you grumbling. an injury from training with his boys today; johnny got a little rambunctious with his duel daggers.

“fucking crazy kid…but hes slowly improving..” john grumbled as you wrapped his arm up.

“hes just excited about joining the mystical 141 mercenary group. give him some slack, Captain.” you teased back, finishing the wrapping. he scoffed at your comment and put his armor back on.

“well, hes a little too zealous at times…but i can tell he’ll be good for the team.” john stood from the med bed and re-equipped his sword to his sword. he smirked at your figure moving around and cleaning up the medical supplies.

he walked up behind you, giving a series of fluttering kisses to your neck as his arms wrapped around your waist.

“ive missed all day, love…” he whispered to you as you placed your hands atop his. he had been training with 141 while you had been seeing patients all day.

“me too, captain.” 

ghost- spymaster

the spymaster of the 141 mercenaries. john recruited ghost when he saw him stalking upon roofs around the town at night. when morning came, john found him at a pub in a dark corner as he watched everyone. when he sat down with him and got to talking, he learned that at that point he was a hitman for hire. he decided to put his skills to good use.

“simon, darling come to bed, please i miss my lover…” you looked over to his larger figure in the corner, arms crossed and staring at you from his hiding spot. a smirk graced his lips at your words when your eyes met.

“was wonderin’ when you’d notice me, sunshine…” uncrossing his arms with a small chuckle, simon made his way towards your shared bed.

“well, i was wondering when you would come by yourself, darling.” simon smirked at your comment, taking off his gear to settle in for the night. 

before you could do anything else, simon pulled you forward by the back of your legs, plopping down onto your chest. he let out a low groan as you gave a small chuckle, putting your hand in his short blonde locks.

“goodnight, darling..” a quick kiss to his forehead.

“night, sunshine..” he was out like a light.

soap- dual daggers

chaotic good of the party. will go in killing everyone crazy or be the sneakiest rogue ever and be in and out. he joined the 141 before simon; he sought out price and gaz as they were looking for recruits and went around the kingdom looking for them. he wanted to join them ever since hearing them and how they stopped the gas poisonings by general hadir, the brother of general farah who was an ally of the 141.

“dear…you are going to give me grey hairs.” soap dangled from the rope after stepping the trap as you ventured in the woods. he was fighting the rope with grunts and trying to cut with his dagger, but falling short as he would miss and fall back down.

“well whoever grunt...set the fucking trap knew what they grunt doing…” following the rope with your eyes, you found the anchor for it by a tree which led you to walk and cut it.

soap landed onto the ground with a grunt and cough as he got a bit winded by the action. with a roll of your eyes, you walked over to where soap laid and helped him up and dusted him off.

“thank you, buttercup. now lets go home, so we can spend some time alone…” he gave you a smirk as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and yall started walking in the direction of yalls cottage. 

“mmhmm…did your ribs bruise again?” you raised an eyebrow at him as yall walked side by side.

“maybe…” he coughed out as his other arm went to support his ribs.

“absolutely, they hurt a lot…” he whined with a chuckle out of you as you shook your head and continued walking as soap whined the whole way.

gaz- rift mage

gaz met price as he was an apprentice of the royal court mage. price would eat with gaz whenever they could, price taking gaz under his wing when they left the kingdom; gazs family disowned him upon discovering he had magic. price taught him how to fight with a weapon in case he could not use his magic. over the time of their travels, gaz felt more comfortable about his natural abilities and not hiding them as much.

“come on, my little spitfire…” gaz gave a slight tug at your sleeve as you stood in the library, sorting the books with a big pout on his lips. the 141 had an off week, but you had to work some days of the week. gaz huff as you moved from shelf to shelf, following behind like a lost puppy.

“gaz, im almost done. just a few more minutes, darling..” chuckling as gaz groaned and threw his back. after finally finishing placing the last books away, you grabbed your things and found gaz asleep in a chair near the back of the shop. his head sloped down onto his chest with his arms crossed over his chest. 

holding in a chuckle, you walked over to him, gently shaking his shoulder to wake him up. 

“gaz, darling, im done lets go home…” you whispered to him, gaz slowly started to stir in the chair, stretching his arms out with a yawn and looked over at you.

“im ready and awake, spitfire, i swear-yawn” standing up with a pop in his back, gaz hooked his arm around your waist and led yall out of the bookstore back to your shared home for the rest of the afternoon. an occasional yawn escaping gazs mouth earning a small giggle from you.

alex- bardice

a bardiche is kind of pole-arm, which alex was a god at using. he picked up the pole-arm when couldnt do close combat anymore after losing his leg; he opted for long range combat afterward. he joined after price and gaz help him and general farah with hadir, he wanted to help people and bring justice like them. 

watching alex pull back the bardiche only to stab into the training dummy again and again was something you could watch all day. sitting on one of the many hay bales around the training center, you were doing your own thing by doodling alex in many poses with his pole-arm. he saw out of the corner of his eye with a smirk as you moved your pencil around the page.

“getting my good side, dearest?” he smirked to you, leaning against the pole-arm as he used a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe away the sweat from his forehead.

“every side is your good side, alex.” you smiled back, shutting the book and walking over to alex who was also shirtless at the moment. afterall it didnt hurt to use your boyfriend for anatomy practice; slyly you smiled at him while placing your hands on his sweaty chest. his muscles moved up and down with deep breaths as he took you in his tired and aching arms. 

“im glad my dearest thinks so. i dont just work out to keep good at fighting…its also for you, dear..” his breathy voice whispered in your ear, his mustache tickling your neck as he left light, fleeting kiss up and down. snorts and squeaks left you as you tried to push away alex who only brought you in closer to his larger frame.

“a-alex! stoop..that-haha- t-tickles!” the shrill laughs left you, alex only stopping to let out gravelly chuckles in your ear. but soon, he thankfully did stop the tickles and swayed you both back and forth a bit.** **aqua lovesick eyes bore into yours, ones that you could spend an entity in.

“i love you, dearest..” alex vowed to me.

“i love you most, alex.” i vowed back to seal it with a kiss.** **

keegan- scythe

the ghosts were also a traveling group of mercenaries, only being found at night in pubs when people were looking for them. keegan was known for his large scythe attached to his back and the skull face paint that decorates his face during missions. he joined the ghosts when after he was with another mercenary group called vipers.

“it smells good in here, firefly.” keegans arms wrapped around your waist as you chopped up some vegetables for a stew for dinner. you saw more bundles of wheat on the table as keegan rested his head in your neck.

“thank you, kee. i have bread in the oven from all the wheat you keep cutting.” i smirked at him as he placed his scythe against the wall near the front door. as you placed the vegetables in the pot and mixed everything together. 

“we should start selling wheat, kee. i can only make so much bread a week before i start hating the taste.” a chuckle left him as you stirred the pot and he took a seat at the table. he rested his head on his palm, calloused from years of use of the scythe, aqua eyes watched your figure as you moved about in the kitchen. 

“maybe we can sell the bread you make; people would come in hoards for your bread.” keegan smirked as you dished up the now ready stew and brought over two bowls to the table. he loved how domestic life was with you; one of the few constants in his life. the ghosts and you were always there for him, it took him awhile to get to use it after the vipers.

but, damn, he wouldnt trade this for anything in the world.

“firefly… i love you alot. i would do anything for you, i hope you know.” smiling, you reached out your hand and grabbed his hand, softly rubbing your thumb across the back of his hand.

“i know, dear. i would do the same for you, keegan; i love you more.” you told him back, a toothy grin spread across his lips as there was a light pink dusting across his cheeks, it made him look cuter.

“i know, firefly…now lets eat.” he pressed a quick kiss to your lips before yall dug into the delicious looking stew.

roach- necromancer

not being able to speak never bothered roach; his parents used sign language with him while others wrote notes if they did not know. roach always felt like no one could really understand him despite everything he could say or show. in his emotions, he always felt limited when it came to that. until joining the 141; they always seemed to read him better than others. price knew he was hungry for certain foods in taverns, but didnt know if they had it or not. ghost always knew when roach needed more ink or another book for his spells. gaz and soap would be there him when he was looking around booths in the village and people would try to scam him because he was mute.

roach was sitting at the tavern table, scribbling down notes he needs for spells and the ingredients needed for those spells. you were up at the counter ordering some mead and roasted stew that he always wanted. when the order was confirmed, you started making your way back to yalls table when you saw a group of patrons around roach; poking him and shoving as he sat there and tried to ignore them.

rushing over him and the group, pushing the men away from him and he guarded his book with his body.

“leave him alone! what gives you the right to bother him?” you shouted as you stood in front of the table. the group of patrons scowled as you pushed them away from your partner.

“he practices witchcraft! the worst kind of all; necromance. he needs to leave!” they shouted back at you as your hands rested on your hips, looking equally as mad at them.

“has he done anything to you? made any rude gestures? sent some ghost your way?” raising a brow at him, waiting to see what his answer would be. the man's mouth fell ajar, eyes rapidly blinking as he looked around for something to say.

“well..n-no, but its unnatural-!” you cut him off by raising a hand up to him as he tried to sputter out an answer.

“but nothing. he has every right to be in here as much as you do, so leave him alone before i make you.” you shoved your finger into his chest, making him stumble backwards as his eyes continued to widen as your words. his face paled, gave a huff and he walked off with his group behind him.

looking back at roach, you walked over to him and took his face in your hands looking over him for any possible scrapes or bumps from the patrons roughhousing him. as your eyes trailed over his soft face, roach placed his hands over yours. he gave a soft smile and slow nod as if to answer your question. 

‘im fine, precious. no injury, just took my quill.’ hitting his thumb with a closed fist against his chest then making his hand sideways as he spread his fingers apart then moving his fingers against one another. then moving in front of him, taking his fist from behind his ear and down to hand you understood what he meant.

‘are you sure?’ you signed back which made his smile wider as he brought you down next to him and pressed a kiss to your lips which made your concern melt from your face. you pressed one back to him as you placed your head on his shoulder and he got back to writing in his spell book.

alejandro- dadao

alejandro and rudy were allies and honorary members of the 141. they were a traveling duo looking to help where they could, like the 141; alejandro always felt like he was supposed to do more than just travel around with his childhood friend. not that he hated it, but he also felt lost whenever they got ready to travel to the next town. but when they landed in your town, it felt right to alejandro and he wanted to stay.

alejandro opened the back with a smile as he brought in the burlap sack clad flour and sugar you needed in the bakery. placing them near the other sacks in your low supplies as you stood behind the big butcher block table which you made pastries on.

“thank you, ale. i would have done it, but i needed to get these breads ready and in the oven.” you smiled up at him as he walked over and hugged you from behind, giving feathery kisses along your neck.

“its no problem, mi corazon, i love helping you and watching you do what you love most.” he smiled into your neck as you both swayed to the imagery music. sweet notes of vanilla, fruits, lavender, and many other notes wafted through the air which warm, fuzzy feelings in your chest as you leaned against alejandro.

“do you happen to have any extra cherry pie, mi corazon?” he whispered as he pressed a quick kiss to the shell of your ear. his warm hands gently slide up and down your sides.

cherry pie was alejandros favorite dessert, so whenever it was baked, he would always sneak a piece when you werent watching. meaning you would have to make more then buy more cherries and it was just a cycle of baking cherry pies.

“if you check the oven, love, you’ll find two cherry pies…one is yours.” an excited whoop left alejandros throat as he turned you around, pressing a passionate kiss against your lips. he ran over to the oven and pulled out the two pies with the peel, placing them on the counter.

“you’re amazing, mi corazon! you always spoil me too much with your pastries and sweets.” pulling you away from the dough on the butcher table, bringing you into his body again as a grin graced his lips. gentle hands rested upon your jaw as he brought you both closer once again; gentle lips danced against one another as you rested your hands on his chest.

“well, you deserves it, alejandro. you do a lot for me and the people here…its the least i could do for you…” you whispered against his lips when you pulled away for a moment. alejandros signature smirk returned, pushing loose baby hair away from your face so he could see it better.

“thank you, mi corazon…it means a lot to hear you say that.”

rudy- illusion mage

rudy and alejandro met as kids when other kids were picking on rudy for his magic. all the other kids thought he was a horrible mage for having illusion magic; most thought it would be used to trick and try to control people. but rudys magic only ever activated when he was in major distress as a kid, when he was older and enrolled into a magic school he learned to control it and use his magic whenever. when alejandro met his partner and decided to stay in that town, rudy didnt mind one bit as he liked the thought of a fresh start in a new town.

you sat at your desk, working on some paperwork for your boss at the bookshop. you had been there all day, sorting through the records of payments and what inventory was in the shop. rudy entered the house from nightly patrol duty, dropping off his coat and illusions dust at the front door.

“amor, what are you doing up so late?” rudy walked over to where you sat, giving you a soft kiss against your shoulder as he rested his head in the crook of your neck.

“i have to get these papers done for the bookshop, cielo…” rested a hand on his jaw, giving back a light peck on the lips. rudy chuckled as he pulled out your chair from the desk.

this caused you drop the papers and quill onto the table as your lover picked you up from the chair, bridal style.

“rudy! i have to get those done soon!” a squeal left your lips as he carried to your shared and dropped you upon yalls bed.

“soon. you said you can finish them soon, lets just cuddle for a bit, amor.” he plopped his body down onto yours as his arms went to wrap around your waist.

knowing rudy wasnt to let you from cuddling for at least a while, you gave huff in defeat which was followed by a chuckle. you begrudgingly wrapped your arms around back, slowly running your nails up and down as you pressed a kiss to his temple.

“you’re a pain in my ass, cielo. but i love you…” whispering to him as yall snuggled into the bedsheets further.

“i love you more…” rudy soon drifted into sleep as he laid on your chest. soon you followed him as well, your hands resting his hair with small smiles gracing your faces.

a/n: as i wrote this, I read the wikis of war zone operators and was thinking about doing a part 2 with some, let me know if y'all would like that and if you want to see certain characters in it

[auspicioustidings]

Lost Boys

6. Sneaky Handsome Distractions

Summary: The final part of this series! Leaving it open as a bit of a sandbox so I can come back and do drabbles when I feel like it :)

Words: 1.8k

CW: General dubcon nonsense

She swore Graves and his Shadows knew exactly what she had done on her break. They watched her pass their stalls with amused and part way hungry eyes. A hand ran through her hair that caused a shiver right down her spine.

“Vargas darlin’? No accounting for taste. Next time you come to me or mine and we'll treat you right hm?” 

Jesus. Graves was something else with that molasses drawl of his and those baby blues seemingly always sparkling with some sort of mirth. She held her head high, flipping her hair over her shoulder and winking at him.

“You'd fleece me out of every cent I own.”

“Aww come on now, that's not a very nice thing to say.”

“And that's not a denial.”

“It's in my nature to want to make advantageous deals, not my fault when fine folk agree to them.”

“Good thing I'm not fine folk then so won't be tempted.”

He laughed in delight. Philip Graves loved someone with some wits about them. It was all too easy most of the time to kiss someone's soul away at the crossroads when they foolishly offered it up. Humans were so greedy for wealth, fame, power, love. This one was fun, messing with creatures that should terrify her. As far as he could see she was reaping the benefits while suffering none of the consequences. Oh she would make a wonderful demon, an even more wonderful victim. He could imagine how satisfying it would be to slide his tongue past her teeth to seal an oath where she gave her soul to him. Delicious, it had been too long since him and his Shadows had eaten something so decadent.

“You'll find I can be very temptin’ darlin’.”

“Well there appears to be a line, so better up your game.”

Preacher laughed as she walked past, absolutely aware that he would take that as a challenge. Let him honestly, the people on this boardwalk were ridiculous and she could play along. Especially if it got her head that good on breaks. 

-

The rest of the shift was fine, no more sneaky handsome distractions. Alex sent someone else to take over for the evening shift, not making an appearance himself. Maybe he was embarrassed after shoving his tongue down her throat. Or maybe he had went home with Alejandro. Again, none of her business.

By the time she was heading home the sun was dipping beneath the horizon, darkness coming quickly. She had never really minded the night time, it was more like an old friend than a threat. She preferred to work during the evening and she knew she'd have to get over her apprehension at seeing Simon or Johnny again, but one day of avoiding them wouldn't hurt.

“Hey wait up!”

Oh Christ, it was the 3rd one of that little trio jogging up to her as she walked home. She didn't slow, just raised an eyebrow and continued on her way. He jogged ahead and then turned, walking backwards so he could talk to her as she moved. Cute.

“We didn't officially meet did we Preacher? Kyle Garrick” he said, thrusting a hand out.

She didn't love that Alex had already told this man her nickname but she was nothing if not polite, so she took his hand to shake and only rolled her eyes and stopped walking when he instead took her knuckles up to press a kiss to them.

“Look buddy, I'm not going to fuck you.”

Kyle choked out a laugh. Johnny had not been kidding when he said she was a feisty little fucker. 

“Even after all the work I put in stocking your house?”

“So it was you that broke in. Not as romantic a gesture as you seem to think.”

“Hardly breaking in, you invited me. Already too fucked out by then for us to have some fun, but you're looking thoroughly unfucked right now. Heard Ale got his tongue in you well enough, but I think you need something more substantial.”

Preacher spent at least 2 whole seconds trying to maintain some sense of decorum before giving up.

“If I need something more substantial, I'll ask Konig.”

That definitely got him annoyed, stepping forward and jamming a hand between her legs to cup her cunt over her jeans.

“You won't, not when you know how well we fuck. You think Ghost and Soap gave it to you? Doll I'd destroy this little pussy, you'd never want anyone else again.”

Preacher partly believed him if she was honest, his two friends had been hands down the best fuck of her life so it would follow logic that he'd be incredible as well. Didn't mean her pride would allow it when there were frankly, a lot of other options. She leaned forward to purr into his ear.

“Would hate for you to do that to Alex, thought you were friends. Not very friendly to ruin his chances given that he kissed me today.”

With that she pushed away from him, his hand falling away as she started walking again. Her blood was certainly up, she'd be needing to take care of herself when she got in since her pussy throbbed from his aggressive proposition. 

Every fibre of Kyle's being wanted to eat her. The only thing keeping him glued to the spot was Price's oppressive aura nearby, warning him to leave it alone. Fuck. The delicate skin of her throat would shred like tissue paper under his teeth. He had licked her blood off of Johnny when he had it smeared across him so he knew she tasted fucking divine and that had only been cold blood, not warm and pumping the way it was inside of her.  

He watched her for far too long before finally being able to move, heading back to the den.

-

As Gaz paced their den Price only laughed at his frustration, commanding Johnny to calm him down. Not even MacTavish's sloppy mouth could make him stop thinking about her. They decided between the 4 of them that she was going to be theirs and she was going to do it willingly. Especially now that the others had an eye on her, it was a matter of pride to win her fair and square. Well, win her of her own volition at least even if their methods could technically be thought of as cheating.

After all, they were vampires. How hard could it be to seduce one little human?

–

“Y'all understand?”

There was a chorus of eager agreements. The Shadows would get this new girl off of amusements and into the games. She had been a temptation already, but seeing that everyone else wanted her? That really sealed her fate as soon to be theirs.

Demons were basically built to seduce humans after all. It'd be easy. 

-

Horangi couldn't move for the heavy weight crushing him, not that he'd be able to move if Konig got off. The fuck had been cathartic for both of them, thoroughly exhausting, leaving him boneless.

“I want her.”

“I know Ko, when have I ever not gotten you something you've wanted?”

Shifters were feral things, but it meant they courted far better than any other creature could hope to. It was in their instincts to seduce a mate. Shouldn't take much effort at all.

-

Rudy groaned and then immediately started huffing. The taste of her he could get from Ale's mouth just was not enough. The night only got worse when an unwelcome visitor swam in.

“What are you doing here?”

“Alejandro I'm wounded, you don't think I may just want to visit an old flame?”

“Try again.”

“Your little Preacher, I want her. We both know there is a lot of competition for such a sweet thing. So why not work together?”

It made sense. If Ale and Rudy had to share her, better it be with another siren. It was agreed they'd do it without their song to prove that they had won her with her enthusiastic and uncharmed consent. If they did it any other way no doubt it would make them look weak, like they couldn't claim a human without the use of their powers. 

Sirens weren't just charming because of their song, they could seduce humans just fine without it. And this human? They were confident about their chances.

-

“Farah please” Alex pleaded, a blade against his throat. 

His own fault really for just wandering in when he knew how she currently felt about him. He had saved her, but he had refused to go with her and Kate, had chosen to stay with the creatures that had wanted to eat her in the first place. 

“Where is this change of heart coming from?”

“...there's a girl. They've kept her alive for now, but they're not the only ones after her.”

“And she belongs with her own kind.”

Alex nodded and Farah took the blade away. Finally he got it. She'd like to meet this girl who had finally pushed him to come back to his senses, come back to her. 

They had hunted monsters of all types, hunting a human should be easy. It would be wildly satisfying to rob all of these creatures of someone they wanted to claim for themselves, shove it in their face that they could never compare to the affection humans held for one another. 

-

Preacher sighed in contentment, all cosy and ready for bed. She was just making a cup of tea when the door went. It was pretty late for visitors, but then it wasn't like anyone here was normal.

Really she shouldn't have been so happy to see him, idiot that he was. But it had been a while since Keegan’s smug little grin had been on her behalf. 

Keegan knew she'd survive, but he was feeling feral over the mixture of scents clinging to her. These fucking animals had all been pawing at her by the smell of it. 

No matter, he had been laying groundwork for years. And now here she was, in his home, ready to fall head over heels in love with him. He'd make sure of it. After all he knew the monsters that made their home in Santa Carla, and none of them had ever come up against someone quite like his Preacher before.

They stood no chance.

-

Little non-canon bonus round because I think it would be neat if Preacher was, in fact, secretly just a dragon hoarding fuckable monsters

It was nice having Keegan close. He was the first of her hoard after all. And now she had so many more to add! Preacher thought she was going to like Santa Carla just fine.

[mothercetrion]

I really like the relationship between Johnny and Ashrah. like, a lot, and I think it's a very underrated relationship between the characters. full thoughts under the cut because it gets long (and also has MK1 spoilers!).

they get along for the duration of the story mode, with Johnny flirting with her/talking about her looks significantly less than he does any of the other women he has met (Kitana, Mileena, and Sindel, notably). he still does on occasion, but it doesn't feel as often? to me?

Johnny is the one to invite Ashrah and Syzoth to come back to Earthrealm with him, Kenshi, and Lao. when Johnny gives her what she views as a ridiculous disguise at the festival, she openly says as much, and Johnny insists that it looks good on her. it's about as flirtatious as he gets when he's speaking to her in the story.

A: You couldn't steal a more functional hat? JC: What? It hides your face. And honestly...it suits you.

I'm sure it's more of a nod to her more well-known design, but…still. it feels so much more genuine than his normal compliments, if that makes sense? no cheesy nickname, nothing drawn-out or overly dramatic. short and sweet. very unlike Johnny and incredibly endearing (and noticeable) as a result.

and then, once they're in Earthrealm, he's the one to introduce Ashrah and Syzoth to Liu Kang. he attributes the safe arrival to Earthrealm to them, which is true, but hearing Johnny openly credit them for their help was quite nice.

their story mode interactions end here, but their pleasant relationship continues in their intros. granted, Johnny does flirt with her (he is Johnny, after all), but it's a lot less than it is with the other girls on the roster. their intros are actually incredibly sweet and show off their close bond.

A: You fought bravely against Shang Tsung. JC: That's just life imitating art, sweetheart.

Johnny calls her "sweetheart" in this one. typical Cage flirting and hyping himself up.

A: I will fight without fail until I am absolved. JC: You are truly a wonder, woman.

more flirting…and a not-at-all-subtle "Wonder Woman" reference. a mix of Johnny's typical media references/possible flirting and a nod to Ashrah's VA (Susan Eisenberg, known for voicing Wonder Woman) from NRS. checks out.

JC: It's hard to believe there's a demon inside there. A: My true face would horrify you, Cage.

they talk about Ashrah's demonhood and how human she looks, something Johnny notes within seconds of their meeting. I feel like this intro also implies that Johnny thinks she's beautiful? "under there" being a beautiful face and Ashrah's "true" face potentially being horrifying to him, unlike her more human face.

JC: Your kriss would look outstanding on my mantel. A: I could never part with Datusha.

Johnny needs a replacement for Sento since he gave it to Kenshi! he thinks Datusha is neat, just like he did Sento. not a surprise here either.

JC: I love redemption stories. A: Yet mine is not for sale.

JC: C'mon, a tour would really help my story research. A: No living creature should visit the Netherrealm.

A: Your Hollywood is rife with evil. JC: You don't need your kriss to know that.

they talk about Johnny's movies, life in Hollywood, and Ashrah's story being made into something that Johnny makes. it makes sense with Johnny's character since he's interested in everyone else's stories for his movie, but talking about Hollywood generally is interesting to me.

A: So you were once married? JC: Amazing anyone would let me go, right?

Ashrah talks to Johnny about a very personal part of his life, possibly in an effort to get to know him more? or perhaps just asking him about it after hearing it from someone else. it's not revolutionary that she would ask, considering that it's brought up in other intros, but it's still interesting nonetheless.

JC: I've been in recovery too, y'know. A: We all have our inner demons.

this intro is one of my favorites for Johnny. he mentions doing "steps" to her briefly in the story mode, and he mentions his "recovery" here. I am extremely curious about what he's gone through in his career to warrant what sounds like therapy of some kind. regardless, he knows what it's like to want to be a better person, and he tells Ashrah that, supporting her own journey to goodness in his own way. it's a new layer to him that I would love to know more about. regardless, for some people, talking about their vulnerabilities so openly can be challenging, so it's clear that he doesn't want Ashrah to feel alone in her efforts. it's sweet.

A: You have poor taste in disguises. JC: [groans] When will you forgive me for that hat?

…and Ashrah still gives him hell about that disguise.

the vast majority of their intros are friendly with minimal flirting in sight. if so, it's much more subtle than his usual manner. Johnny is much more genuine with Ashrah than he is with the other women on the roster, and I think a lot of that is because of their time together in the story mode. they get to know one another and even have some things in common, things to bond over to strengthen their relationship.

anyway, I think Johnny and Ashrah are really close <3 and I think it's sweet.

[yutafrita]

[02:12PM]

｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ ⋆｡ﾟ｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ ⋆｡ﾟ｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡

Werewolf!Yuta x Faerie!Reader (she/her, femme presenting)

Genre: low fantasy, fluffy fluff

Warnings: mythical discrimination/ stereotyping, swearing, allusions to s!ut shaming.

WC: <1K

ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ ⋆｡ﾟ｡⋆ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ ⋆｡ﾟ｡⋆ 𖥔˚ ⋆｡ﾟ｡⋆ 𖥔˚ ⋆｡ﾟ｡⋆ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ ⋆ ᡣ𐭩

“He’s a sweet guy!” Your roommate, Giselle, plucked off a piece of lint from your sleeve.

“Don’t think of it as a blind date more so a…. Surprise meet up?”

“Why did I agree to this?” You huffed, pinching the bridge of your nose. Your roommate went to a party last week, and on a whim set you up with some guy that even she barely knew. You didn’t know who was more foolish- her for setting you up, or you for agreeing to it.

“You know what he looks like, he’s super hot and funny… and smart! Totally your type,” she repeated this sentiment as she began to push you out of the door. “Also I’ll be having someone over!”

“Hey!” You were out the door just as she closed it, leaving you in the dust.

The cafe was across the street from your duplex, so you begrudgingly made your way over. You and Giselle were one of very few faeries at your university. It unfortunately has led to far too many other magical beings trying to pursue you in one way or another. Considering faeries, especially ones that presented more feminine, were seen as hyper-sexual temptresses, it led to you also being either uncomfortably ogled or generally ostracized.

While Giselle loved a fun challenge of conquering as many sexual pursuits as possible, you had basically avoided anything romantic for over a year.

The cafe was emptier than usual, which meant only one couple there had someone grip onto their partner tighter upon seeing you.

“Hi Johnny,” you hummed, greeting the barista. The dragon smiled at you, his pointed teeth that could rip your throat out, were now just showing his warmth. His red scales dotted only along his cheek bones and points at his arm, and if not for his red, leathery wings you could almost forget his vast strength.

“Dragonfly! What can I get you?” He teased. Your wings appeared to match more of a dragonfly than Giselle’s, which appeared more like pink butterfly wings. As a result, amongst your very few friends, dragonfly had become your nickname of choice.

“Just the usual coffee,” you nodded. As the dragon went to prepare your honeydew coffee, you took a closer look at the other patrons. The couple you had spotted earlier consisted of two humans, both avidly avoiding looking at you. You were also able to spot a cat shifter with their headphones in, and a cyclops.

No werewolf, though.

This was stupid. If Giselle wanted to just get you out of the house she could have just asked like she normally did- she didn't need to set you up with someone. Especially a werewolf. Most werewolves had allergy attacks whenever you were nearby due to your fairy dust and their intense sense of smell.

Johnny called your name and passed you your drink. You took out your phone once you sat down and started scrolling through your pictures. You were in need to clean up the camera roll, and faerie jokes and Inter-Species Relations major memes didn’t really need to take up your whole phone storage.

“Hi… y/n?” Your name instantly called your attention.

“Hi Yuta,” you greeted, smiling at the werewolf. Like most werewolves, he had his ears and tail exposed despite it not being a full moon. Most wolves choose to do so as it allows their full moon shift to be smoother and less painful.

He sat across from you, smoothing out his polo before he took a sip of his drink.

“What drink did you get?”

Yuta removed the drink from his lips before answering, “a jasmine tea. You?”

“Honeydew coffee.”

“Aren’t we a couple of stereotypes,” he giggled. You couldn’t help but smile- he was right. Faeries had a strong connection with bees, and werewolves had a strong connection to the moon. With honeydew being something bees loved and jasmine being linked to the moon, yep, you were indeed a couple of stereotypes.

“So Yuta, how did Giselle force you out with me?” You asked, folding your hands on the table. He still wasn’t sneezing like most other wolves do when you don’t take your faerie dust suppressant. The suppressants always made you feel groggy and bloated, but it helped the werewolves in class not sneeze every second.

“Giselle?” he raised an eyebrow, “Oh no she didn’t set us up. It was my roommate who insisted we meet up.”

You furrowed your brows, “is your roommate the person she’s having over now?”

“… that’s probably why he dropped me off here and parked across the street,” Yuta scratched the back of his neck. “My roommates a human and he just transferred to our university from a small community college.”

“Ah, so this is his first time encountering so many different beings?”

“Yeah…” Yuta nodded, “but um… anyways. What’s your major?”

You sat up tall now, “Inter-species Relations with a concentration on policy making. You?”

Yuta’s ears perked up, “Local Policy making with a concentration on inter-species governance.”

You both let out a laugh then, which earned you several looks from your fellow patrons around you. It surprised you to hear that Yuta was roommates with a human when most wolves you knew tended to stay with members of their pack. While it was beyond acceptable for wolves to be friends with other species, it did strike you as weird to hear that he didn’t share a space with a pack member.

"What got you interested in working on inter-species policy?" you asked, taking another sip of your honeydew coffee.

"Well, my parents divorced when I was little and when my Mom remarried she married a warlock. It's come with me learning a lot of the challenges faced by those in inter-species relationships," he took another sip of his coffee before he nodded, "and you?"

"I guess mine's a little more selfish," you admitted.

"Mine is totally selfish," Yuta then nudged your arm, "what is it?"

"Well," you tucked your hair behind your ear, the points on your ear now sticking out, "even though species have been integrated for decades, there's still a lot of animosity between them. I want to be apart of the solution."

"That's noble," Yuta smiled, and you heard a loud, repetitive thumping sound. You glanced down at Yuta's chair to see his tail wagging before he quickly snatched it. "Sorry, that's embarrassing."

"I think it's cute."

"Can I just say, you smell great by the way?"

"Thanks but... I noticed you haven't been sneezing at all?" this was a burning question you had, and you were relieved to finally have a way to ask about it.

"Oh," he dug around in his pocket and set a vial on the table, "my step-dad makes an allergy potion for me so that faerie dust isn't a problem. I just have to take it once a month."

You took the vial in your hand and examined it in awe.

“What are the side effects?”

“None that I know of. I have a faerie in my major so I figured I’d take it.”

You leaned back in awe, your own wings fluttering as you thought over the possibilities. You and Yuta sat at the shop for another few hours, well past when both of your cups went empty. You were talking about the latest installation in the Mission IMP-possible series when Yuta got a call from his roommate to meet him out front to head home.

“I’d… love to see you again,” Yuta’s ears were fully perked up, tail wagging aggressively as he spoke. Nervously, you noted in agreement before you two exchanged numbers.

*******

“A lot of werewolves are breaking off from the pack system these days,” Yuta explained to you one afternoon. The two of you had taken to studying together after classes and taking walks along the city river banks in the mornings. Today, you were having a late lunch on the library roof. “The pack system is still archaic and really heavily gendered.”

“So, is there an alternative?”

Yuta shrugged, eating the last of his fries as he mulled over his response. “Not really. I haven’t had an actual pack for a while, though. They didn’t really do much for me anyways besides be overbearing.”

Everything you knew about werewolf packs came from your college courses. Each pack typically had its own set of rules and its own dynamic. Yuta seemed indifferent to this, though, especially since he only had one other werewolf friend.

“We should go out tomorrow night,” you proposed after a small bout of silence. Yuta’s tailed started wagging again before he raised an eyebrow.

“Are you officially asking me on a first date?”

You scoffed, “so the coffee date didn’t count?”

“Not when it was used by our roommates as an excuse for them to fuck,” Yuta chuckled before offering you a fry.

“Well, miss dragonfly, I would be honored to go on an official date with you.”

Permatag! @nini0620

[64-jungle-planks]

Night at the Museum: Redesigning Characters 2/4(?)

Character profile: Al "Scarface" "Snorky" Capone

This character is based off of and takes inspiration from the historical Al Capone.

Real Name: Alphonse "Al" Gabriel Capone

Nickname and Meaning: Scarface - He earned this nickname because of the three scars on the left side of his face, two on his cheek and one on his neck. Embarrassed by them, Al hates the nickname and never shared the real story of how he got them, siting that he actually got them fighting in WWI.

Snorky - Snorky was slang for sharp dresser. Al loved expensive, flashy clothes. Only close friends used it for him

Age: 26 (January 17, 1899)

Time Period: America's Prohibition in the 1920s, around mid-1925 Johnny Torrio, Al's boss, stepped down and let Al take over the Outfit.

Family: James "Jimmy" Vincenzo Capone, Raffaele "Ralph" James Capone, and Salvador "Frank" Capone + Three younger brothers and one sister that wasn't brought back.

(Headcanons under the cut)

Based on/taken from History:

Can play Banjo and Mandolin, prefers Mandolin

involved in the Five Points Gang with mobster John Torrio as a kid. John Torrio mentored him and gave him the role as the Chicago Mob leader

Only got into the mob for the money to care for his family

Can go from 1 to 10 very quickly

Played in a semi-pro team in Brooklyn as a kid/teen with Ralph. They were known as the Al Capone Stars

+ Intelligent + Generous + Confident - Overdramatic - Attention seeker - Petty

My own silly headcanons:

A little twerp, Al doesn’t respect authority

Feels that he’s better than Ivan and Napoleon because he’s from a newer generation and knows more.

“Okay boomer” vibes

Acts like he hates Napoleon and Ivan (mostly Napoleon), but likes them secretly. They are two men in history that did grand things- in fact he liked learning about Napoleon in school! Al just thinks he had a too big of a head.

Only has one tone of voice- really loud

Swears every other word

He’s a basically still a kid, one with too much power. Al knows his way around the mob, he’s been in it since he was around 15, but now he’s been given power over the Outfit and hasn’t come down off that high yet of being in charge.

Hes happy to have Frank back, they were four years apart in age and were extremely close. He’s missed Frank the year he’s been dead

Was extremely tempted to play baseball using the Einstein’s as balls. He doesn’t like them.

On that note, Al is slightly unnerved around the miniatures. He doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself around them.

He likes sitting at the bench in middle of the hall of miniatures just watching them. Al liked Cowboys and liked playing cowboys and robbers with his brothers as a kid. Some part of him wishes he could be part of their group.

After finding the Sinatra songs made after Al died, he’s constantly found humming them and making up his own lyrics to go along with them. He likes That’s Life the best.

Al somehow acquires a camcorder and films the whole night that they’re trying to take over the world, making himself a big star and part of the plan. He wants that stardom, he loved it when he was alive – he was just getting a part of it when he was alive

Really loves making up nicknames and short stories for people around him. One of his favorite things to do with Ralph is people-watch.

Al: I don’t like Napoleon! He’s a fuckin’.. fuckin’ bitch! A short ass goblin! Ralph: Yeah.. goblin’ that dick. Frank: MMHHEHEHAHAHAHAHAAH!!! Al: What.

Makes jokes about Napoleon and his boys being gay because he's frightened about questioning his own sexuality. He knows he likes women, but he's got that good ol' "1910's Christian beat the gay away" ideal still stuck in his head. It takes a bit for Al to realize he's bi

Loves giving gifts

He likes having at least one of his brothers by his side. Historically it's been Ralph, but during the events that take place during NATM 2, Al kept Frank close because he was frightened of loosing him again.

Frank, Ralph, Napoleon

[sillystringsimpsons]

THE D'AMICO CRIME FAMILY RELATIONSHIP MAP.

Content warnings: brief mention of sexual abuse, cartoon imagery of blood, cigars, cigarettes, discussion of struggling to transition, discussion of physical trauma. This AU is centred around a criminal organisation and by default involves mature themes.

Over hours, through a painstaking design process, I created an illustrated map detailing the relationships between frontal characters in my Simpsons alternate universe, The Good Ones. A lot of love and effort has been put into this, so I hope you guys like it! If there are any characters you'd like to see drawn, just let me know.

More info and close ups of icons beneath cut!

I know I always say this, but interactions, especially questions would mean SOSOSOSOSOSOSO much to me, as I've put so much thought into this and would LOVE to yap to interested people about it. I know art is done for oneself, but it feels really good to share my creations and hyperfixations with the Simpsons community :)

For every character, I drew a little icon and wrote a line of dialogue, in order to give some inside into their personality and traits in a concise way. A few further explanations and elaborations are given below!

Valentina 'Tits' Albertini Her icon is a visual pun, featuring two Great Tits drawn in the colours of the transgender flag.

Aside from Memphis, Valentina is the only other explicitly genderqueer character in the AU's focus (Lucy-Mae is heavily implied to fall under the nonbinary umbrella, but she never personally feels the need to explore it further, and is happy with identifying as female). Her former nickname was a play on how ballsy of a person she is within the mafia - though Cora is a wildcard, she makes very rash decisions: Valentina is both calculated and bold, and her current nickname is a crude (fittingly), but well-spirited adaptation introduced by Memphis. After coming out, she experiences backlash from Tony, who is concerned her late transition will impact the image of the mob. Memphis, being a trans man, asks him why Valentina is any different from himself, and in the heat of the moment, Tony exclaims that half the people in their own family have no idea that he's transgender, which leads to some tension between the two. Tits' main character arc revolves around her exploration of gender and gender expression, and the character that plays the biggest role in it is Tony's son, Michele (purposefully drawing parallels between Tony and Memphis' own relationship, and showing social change between generations).

Michele 'Softfoot Mikey' D'Amico His icon is a nod to his (in this AU) love of ballet, and how he uses it to his advantage in his role as an underboss.

Michele is a simple evolution on Tony's canon son, Michael D'Amico. In this AU, he's been aged up to 23, and instead of having an unconventional love for cooking, has an unconventional love for ballet dance. Most all of his other traits have been kept the same, however, aside from the obvious fact that he's more rational and mature than his in-canon counterpart. He's straight, but is portrayed as very effeminate - and comfortably so. Mikey really just is a girlboss who never fails to (sometimes literally) slay.

Cora 'Connie the Howler' Mezzasalma Her icon plays on her nickname, portraying a dog with some of her key characteristics, such as a matching necklace given to her by her adoptive brother, as well as a splatter of blood - presumably from one of her usual 'errors'. Her nickname refers to the colloquial term howler, meaning a laughable mistake.

Frankie's awkward adoptive sister of Greek origin, Cora was initially made with the sole purpose of providing a dynamic for Frankie, outside of his relationship with Johnny (which is still the primary relationship explored), but she really grew as a character. Initially I made the name 'Connie the Howler' on the fly as a sort of female version of 'Frankie the Squealer', but I ended up actually putting the effort in to rationalise it and bring it into her character. The result was an awesome little dynamic between two characters who were equally stupid, but in very different ways. She may be responsible for a number of incorrect hits, as well as a good few accidental deaths and injuries, but at the end of the day, she's a silly girl at heart who really synergises with her brother's anxious energy.

Maximus 'Legs' Legman & Luis 'Louie' Walters Both of their icons refer to an car accident the both of them got into, wherein Legs, ironically, suffered severe damage to his legs (resulting in the amputation of his left one), and Louie underwent significant cranial trauma.

The two do admittedly have a closer relationship because of the shared experience, though they both experience significant impacts. Notably, Louie develops Broca's aphasia (yes, I know the injury is on the wrong side, that's my bad), a form of non-fluent aphasia where one's quality of speech and grammatical structure is significantly diminished - even though the words are in your head, you cannot get them out, usually due to damage to the area of the brain responsible for the production of speech. Louie really struggles in the aftermath, and has a difficult time adapting to his disability. Thankfully, he's got his friend there to help him through it.

[lucky-clovers-agere]

Do the regressors have nicknames for their caregivers?

Yes and no!

Yes, because I want them to all have nicknames for their caregivers, and no because I genuinely can't think of many that I feel would work. If people have suggestions, please let me know!

I have that Ponyboy calls Darry "Bubs" and Sodapop, when regressed, calls him "Bubba", and Johnny doesn't really talk much when regressed (or in general) but I feel he would have some form of nickname, even if only he himself knows it.

I just don't... really have an idea on nicknames that the regressors use for the caregivers, though I would absolutely love suggestions!

Oh! I have it also noted that Little Pony had an inkling that Sodapop was going to regress months before it happened, he never called Sodapop Bubs or Bubba or any other sort of nickname, he just called Sodapop "Sodie"

[ineedatherapyplz]

HEADCANONS, JOHNNY SLAUGHTER!¡

tw ; mentions of blood, murders & possibly nsfw(i do not get in any details but still),johnny slaughter is a c*nnibal tho so yk.

FIRST ; CHILHOOD.

as you may know, johnny was adopted by the black nancy. he never questioned his link with the others, he has always been considering them as his family. but he never told anyone “i love you” it's not really his thing.

as a child, he would have been obsessed with furr and animals. he was only curious about how they ended up dead and that's basically what got him into his “hunter mind” first.

(personal hc) he got his knife bc of his first victim, as he was only a teenager at the time, he wanted to help the family and took one of the knife without permission, and got out of the house to haunt by himself. he would also keep some things from the “funniest” haunts, when he's really entertaining by it (some hair or idk, whatever your twisted mind is thinking about ).

he would get overprotective over his mother, i see him having a difficult relationship with nancy, as he grew up he started to hate her for adopting him/kidnapping him (as a sign of rebellion or maybe the fear of not being as loved as the others) but at the same time would die to protect her. this boy has mommy issues probably.

that man HATES his sister, but he also loves her a lot. as a teenager, he would do pranks on her (like hiding some weird things in her stuffs, like a victim's finger or something like this he's just that strange perturbed teenager) and sissy would fight back, and they would just end up crying bc of this. YOU CAN'T TELL ME THAT YOUNG JOHNNY WAS NOT A DIVA AND A CRYBABY.

SECOND; ADULTHOOD.

he became what is the closest to a be serial killer, so johnny grew out of his furr and dead animals stage to just haunt real ppl, he probably started to help his family, but found a satisfaction to it bc humans are “funnier” to haunt, he would laugh when they cry, fake being nice to them.

his technic is either helping ppl with their broken car to lead them to their house or gase station, or just stalk them (like he did with maria) he would probably go to bars too, he's a one night stand kind of man, he never had a gf or a partner in general (obviously).

he probably has a blood kink and would probably love to play with his knife, i feel like when it's not for “food” he wouldn't get too weird, but would be weird when he knows how it's going to end.

johnny does not know how to make the difference btw the feeling of love and obsession, he would have an obsession over someone and confuse this with love. so he could, perhaps, let some victims live longer bc of this but is easily tired of them (except if he's like really obsessed). i see him being unlabelled, he just likes the idea of having power and doesn't care that much about gender : he just want to control everything. he would probably give nicknames during "it", and has a degradation kink prob bc that man just loves to feel superior. he would play with the roles like the haunter and his prey. yeah he's weird

his scars, to me, are from some previous haunts. but some are probably from his fights with sissy. the one on his face is probably the result of a victim that tried to fight back, during his teenage hood, but he's not really careful and likes the idea of being possibly hurt bc it means that the haunt was entertaining and not too easy, he would see this as a way to show his victories.

[malfoys-demigod]

Could you do and angst to fluff with older johnny where he has a fight with reader and this he's to older and not good enough to her but she proves him wrong ?

Proving Johnny Wrong - Johnny Lawrence (CK) x Reader Part 1/2

A/N: Hope you enjoy! I wanna base the extra character on Matt Bomer since I LOVE him right now!

You were only dating Johnny for a few months now. To you, it was the most wonderful thing that has happened to you. He was starting to become a best friend to you, as the chemistry between you was off the charts. Everything was perfect for you. Age didn’t matter to you. So what if he was maybe twenty years older than you? You were distanced and away from family, friends, and anyone who could’ve brought your happiness down.

To Johnny, he was still a little bit insecure about the age gap. That was his biggest problem. You two were very much in love with each other, but Johnny always had the nightmare of him being a pit stop to your actual dream man, who was your age and who could be with you for a longer time on this earth. He still questions why you’d want to be with someone older than you. You could’ve been with someone your age and someone with less wrinkles and more chiseled abs.

Tonight, Johnny was going to be tested.

Your high school flame, Ken, was back in town. You two were also close of friends, so you two saw each other more as friends than old lovers who dated for a silly few months.

Johnny never really heard much about Ken except that he was your first love before and how he decided to leave Encino on good terms with you before going off to college.

He brushed that information off before, assuming he’d never have to meet the guy. But here he was, driving the both of you to meet him in the restaurant you planned on having dinner in.

“So, this Ken guy, what does this guy do?” Johnny asked

“I don’t know,” you reply, “Last time I talked to him, he was thinking about going into med school. Now that he’s graduated and all, he’s probably somewhere in the medical department.”

“Huh, smart cookie.”

“Yeah, you’ll love him!” you encouraged Johnny, “He’s the funniest and he’s definitely gonna make you laugh all night.”

“Let’s see about that,” Johnny muttered, knowing he’d probably look like a fool if your generational pop culture differences hit on night. He was an 80s kid while you were a 90s kid. Ten years is a whole difference, especially when Johnny’s mind still lived in the 80’s.

—

Once you entered the restaurant, you heard a voice call out for your name.

“Y/N/N! If it isn’t you!”

You eyes travelled to the other end of the restaurant, looking at Ken, who seemed to have really aged well. He stood up from his chair and opened his arms out.

“Oh my god, Ken-doll!” you teased his old nickname, which got Johnny feel tense already.

You ran up to him, hugging him tightly.

“Hey you!” he said, “How I missed you! You haven’t aged a bit, hun.” He noted, checking you out funnily. He then noticed your date, who was just staring at him with serious eyes. “Oh, you must be the boyfriend, hi, Ken,” he said, extending his hand to Johnny.

“Hey,” Johnny said, “Johnny Lawrence.” He gripped onto Ken firmly, with an icy tone.

“Well, let’s sit!” Ken recommends, motioning the two of you to follow him to the table.

Johnny holds your hand for reassurance as the two of you follow Ken, making you look at him with sincere, happy smiles.

As the two of you sit, Ken begins to ask the big question, “So, how long have you been dating!”

You smile, excited to share with your friend your relationship with Johnny.

“A couple months already! It’s been really fun with Johnny.”

“I’m really glad to hear that,” Ken says, “Y/N is an absolute treasure.”

Johnny huffed, “As if I don’t know that,” he said sarcastically in a rude tone.

At first you didn’t mind it, maybe he was just pulling out one cold joke, but little did you know it would get worse and worse.

“Uh yeah, but you know Johnny’s really great too,” you add, “He owns a dojo and teaches kids karate!”

“Aw that’s cute!” Ken notes, which Johnny huffs again at.

“Karate isn’t cute. It’s a lifestyle, where you get to be badass and kick ass all the damn time. It shaped my kids from wimps to feared teenagers. It’s life changing.”

You shot Johnny a quick angry look and looked back at Ken, who didn’t know how to reply to Johnny.

“So Ken, all I know is you graduated from Stanford doing premed! You a doctor now?” you asked willingly

“Yeah! Neurosurgeon at North Hollywood!”

“Omg you’re not that far from here! Why didn’t you tell me sooner! I thought you’d be somewhere around Stanford still!”

“Sorry Y/N/N, was too busy being McDreamy,” Ken teased, which you giggled. Johnny narrowed his eyes, not knowing the reference.

“What the hell is a McDreamy?”

“Grey’s Anatomy?” Ken asked politely?

“Patrick Dempsey? Cmon Johnny we watched some Patrick Dempsey together before!” you say.

Johnny shrugged, still not getting it. You laughed it off, looking back at Ken, “Sorry, 80s man here,” which made Johnny upset, “Have you met your Meredith Grey yet?”

“Mm nope, haven’t met anyone since you,” he shyly admitted, as he started to show pink swatches on his cheeks.

“Aw, Ken!” you laughed, which got Johnny creating a tight fist under the table, “I-“

You couldn’t even explain how flattered you were because Johnny rose up from the table abruptly and said, “Excuse me.”

Johnny’s eyes were anywhere but near yours as he quickly made his way outside of the restaurant. You apologized to Ken with a sad look on your face and followed your boyfriend outside.

You saw Johnny get inside his car, but before he could leave you pounded on the door.

“Johnny! What the hell!” you yell in confusion

Johnny still didn’t look at you. He was facing the steering wheel. “I can’t do this, Y/N.”

“What the fuck do you mean, John?!” There was already a struggle in your throat as if you were about to cry.

“Why didn’t things work out between you and your Ken-doll?”

“Oh cmon, Johnny! Seriously?”

Johnny stayed silent, eagerly waiting for a reply.

You groaned, rolling your eyes. “I guess cause he had to go to school far away from me. We would rather be friends than try long distance, fail, and become strangers!”

“If he stayed, do you think you would’ve been married to him by now and maybe have kids with him?”

You were baffled by this question, “Johnny you are getting ridiculous. What are you getting at?”

“Oh cmon, Y/N! He’s your age, he’s successful, handsome, and everything I’m not! Can’t you fucking read the room? You shouldn’t be with me, I’m old, unsuccessful, wrinkly, and fucked up!”

“Johnny-“

“Look,” he said, now looking at you with saddened eyes, “Tell him I wasn’t feeling well, okay? I can’t do this anymore. Good night, Y/N. Have a good dinner with McDreamy.”

And with that, Johnny backed up his car and drove off from you, leaving you, shattered. It was so in the moment for you that you didn’t even have the feelings to cry because everything was just so fresh and surreal in the worst way possible.

You didn’t even have to catch Ken up to speed as he slowly walked towards you, noticing the whole thing unravel as he didn’t want to leave you alone all depressed.

“Hey,” he said, getting you to turn around. You started to tear up and mumble some sounds. “Hey, hey, come here,” he said, welcoming you into his arms again. “He’ll come around eventually. He’d be too insane to lose you just like that, buddy.”

“Can you take me home?” you asked, getting the words together this time.

“Of course, Y/N.”

The second and last part is to follow… what are your thoughts so far!

[summermoonshine]

Call Of Duty MWIII - SPOILERS

Below, some clips + videos from MWIII where we'll analyse what happened to Soap.

After sharing them, however, I would like to say a few things (if you not interested in this, I understand, but please: just skip that part as I really need to vent about the matter; my apologies).

Now, the clips.

Let's start with the Soap's death (full video will be uploaded in a separate post because it deserves respect):

Wanting to deliberately leave out the fact that Makarov had complete freedom to engage a firefight without being captured (the idiotic run after killing Soap is truly ridiculous compared to Makarov in MW3), what is inevitable to do is, for me, to compare the dynamics with something already seen: does this scene remind you of anything? No? Maybe this will jog your memory:

This is in addition to what said by Makarov to Captain Price:

"Never bury your enemies alive". Who else was buried alive if not Ghost himself (according to '09 backstory)? This could justify the lack of an official backstory for Ghost 22: would Soap's death be his true downfall into the underworld? Mh.

Speaking of him, I so resent Soap's death for many reasons (which I'll discuss shortly), but above all because by killing him, they also killed Ghost: one shot, two deaths. Ghost had started to live again thanks to Soap, and it was with him that he died, too. Until the end, he was stood next to him because ''no one fights alone''. The fact that, even under the threat of a bomb capable of neutralizing half the world, Ghost chose to remain next to Soap as he bled to death to me is everything. The stone-cold man, detached and attached only to the field manual (where friendship does not even appear), he is the one who SCREAMS his sergeant's name. Let's hear the pain in his voice:

Sure, it could be a standard reaction of any man who sees his teammate killed before his eyes, but no one would expect such a reaction from the 'stone-cold man'. But a mask isn't enough to hide the pain: He's lost; his eyes roaming for help:

He's out of breath, his chest moving up and down as if he's not just catching his breath, but holding back an explosion. Cry? Tears? Anger?

I slowed down this part to highlight how the head-shake was not just to confirm the death, indicating that there was nothing left to be done, but it was personal: he can't believe his eyes, and his heavy breathing confirms it.

At that precise moment, they didn't just kill Ghost; they killed Simon, too.

In fact, in the clip below (I cut+slowed it) it's Simon (see the mask) who takes care of Johnny after his death: he keeps Johnny in his backpack, holds the urn from start to finish, he has the task of scattering the ashes in what appears to be a Scottish's mountain, and he is the one who brings HIM back home with him.

He is family.

It's precisely when talking about family that I can't stop thinking about the quantity of ashes in his urn. The amount of ashes is small: what if half the ashes went to Soap's family and Ghost kept the other half?

Also, Soap has managed to make himself loved by everyone, and this is why I consider this scene (pic below) to be of fundamental importance: the act of adding his nickname stands for: ''you were not a soldier, but something dear to me''.

The document is drawn up by Laswell, the one who protected Task Force 141 from behind the scenes even when General Shepherd had betrayed them, showing that the relationship between them all goes far beyond the working one:

it is a matter of heart.

-

It's for this reason that I feel like I must say some things about all this: there is so much to say actually but, as absurd as it may be, I felt the strong need to take some time for myself and understand what to do with this pain. As a player and historical supporter of the COD saga, I can say that in 20 years I have never seen the fandom as active, lively and full of passion as in 2022.

As I already explained, it was vital to me that AV gave Soap another chance after mw3. Sure, it's a war videogame and deaths are therefore inevitable, but killing the same character twice with the sole hope of making us hate Makarov so as to have more hype for the next COD (which, personally, I doubt will follow this arc since I define it now concluded although there are still unresolved issues) it was a stupid move to make, because by doing so we are hating AV, not Price or Makarov himself.

Furthermore, what is most infuriating is that if the COD family has started to be so creative and enthusiastic again, it is above all thanks to Saop (and to our Neil along with others VA; unfortunately, not every one of them).

Each of the protagonists in MWII was perfect, earning a special place in our hearts, but it is clear that Soap and the relationship established with Ghost were the catalyst of definitive affection that connected us so deeply to the reboot, leading us to buy even a new game that, more than a campaign, more than a DLC, is a scam:

rushed dialogues, too many characters piled on top of each other, typical warzone game dynamics with such a short duration that each level becomes chaotic etc etc etc… 2, maximum 3 hours later, we find ourselves with a Soap killed, slaughtered and left to die with total dullness and without any emotional focus DURING our game without even receiving a cutscene dedicated to him.

And, as if that wasn't enough, by killing him, Ghost was also indirectly killed: for once, perhaps for the first real time, that man - always represented as cold - had found a family and something, someone to hold on to : taking it, taking HIM, away from him, they demolished two people with a single shot.

Atrocious.

Treating one of the characters who has practically supported the entire current COD fortune on his shoulders in this way is, for me, a great injustice, as well as a stupid move.

Again, I don't hate Makarov; I hate AV.

Soap 22 will forever be our comfort zone, because he has never been just a video game character, but our home.

[johannestevans]

Whats your perspective on names?

Do you have any specific thoughts about them? how did you find yours? did it take long to? how many have you had? also your characters! obligatory "I Love Your Work!" (and i enjoy riffling though new and also rereading old), So from amaethon to cecil to danny to the King family and the Laithes family, their names are one aspect that have always stuck out to me because they all integrate into their stories while still feeling unique in contrast to each other! i dont miss that a lot of it is influenced by your interest in fae lore and your welsh heritage either. where does the name come in during your writing process, is it the first or last thing you think of? do you have a mish-mash of where you find them? any pettier more low stakes opinions on names?

(all this started bc i'm struggling to find a name, and want the perspective of another trans person :) !)

I changed my name when I was about 15 - it comes from a similar biblical root as my deadname, so basically I shortened my deadname and then looked for other names that it could be a nickname for.

For me, it really wasn't a long or involved process - it happened quite smoothly and easily, and I've never felt like I needed to try other things or find something that fit me better.

Johannes is a Dutch and German name - it's an older form of John and is like Ioannes / Yiannis in Greek, and it comes from Hebrew for God is gracious. It can be shortened to Johann, but generally my actual loved ones either call me John or Johnny, or they call me Hannes.

"Johannes" in German is kind of a stereotypical old man's name? A German friend was laughing a lot about it because she said that to me and I was like "Yeah?" and she was like, oh, yeah, that fits, lmao.

I do play around a lot with names, and I'd say that I take them from a lot of different sources and get creative with them. Multiple times I've called a character "Henry Sutton" without realising I've done it multiple times, which is why I've got a few Henry Suttons knocking about.

For more established characters with deeper backstories, I play around a lot with the naming process - I normally have a particular mouthfeel or aural impact I'm going for, such as a certain number of syllables or a particular "flavour", like a name that has a feel of a particular class or country or profession.

With that said, I think most of my names I pick quite quickly and feel out early on in the process - it's rare that a character of mine is more fleshed out and lacks a name, because I find a name is such a useful part of someone's identity and informs a lot of how they move in the world and are perceived and treated. Something like their appearance is far less important, funnily enough.

I like to employ some literal stuff - Valorous King, for example, is very aptly named in a way that can sometimes feel like a curse to him; Amaethon is actually one of the children of Dôn, but people don't really know old Welsh gods and goddesses very well, so it just feels like a random elf name; Ganymede Cavendish is named for a beautiful young lover of Zeus, and he is just as beautiful and victimised in the same way as his namesake.

Other times, I go with more irony or play with juxtapositions - name a character for joy or ease when they're generally miserable or tortured; name them something small when they're very big or vice versa; name them for darkness when they're very light, etc.

I'll often take forenames or surnames from things I'm watching or playing or listening to - when I want to pluck a name out of the air at random and am worried I'm using too many of the same names, but want like, "real" names that real people use and live with, it's fucking great to pick names out of the credit sequences of TV or movies and mash them up.

Sometimes I scroll through census records and stuff, but the problem with the number of characters I have is that I can't always do that - as much as it's realistic for many characters to be called Jones or Evans or Williams, I'd need to make a thing of it in fiction. Census records are great for older characters, especially from the 1700s-1900s.

The ones that are actually hardest for me is Latin names - Greek ones I'm a lot more comfortable handling, but my Latin grammar is fucking dogshit, and I often worry about mishandling a name or reusing one that's too commonly written already. Medieval Latin is alright to play with, but when I'm writing old Roman characters I just feel like I'm kicking my own ass the entire time.

I will say that some shit in that regard is just fucking lazy. I abhor the lazy tendency in fiction to introduce a Black character and call him Mr White or Mr Chalk or something similar, especially when it's contrasted with an evil white character and/or that character's best friend who's named Black or Ebony. It's not in itself that awful, it's just the fact that it's so overdone and clichéed, and comes from a really basic humour and sense of irony that doesn't really build on or create anything, just lazily says "haha, this guy's Black and this other guy's white, isn't that a thing?"

I don't actually have a problem with reusing some names a lot - John, Henry, Daniel, etc - and I will often just search "common names [country]" and play with similar names that jump between and change from different languages or change throughout history. It can be worth looking up legends or stories from a certain region or like, old wives' tales and stuff, because like...

Sometimes, the benefit of a common or uncommon name is in its cultural impact - a name like mine, a name like John, is ubiquitous, but that means you can draw loads of parallels to it; on the other hand, if you grab a word that's very much not a name, but is a place, an object, a common noun, an animal, a turn of phrase, etc, you create a tension around that character with the other characters around them, even if people aren't commenting on it directly and even if you don't tell the reader immediately that their name is unusual or noteworthy.

When you're playing with a name that has a lot of cultural impact within a culture you're writing, as a name or otherwise, it can be fun to have a name that will have a lot of resonance for the characters you're writing, but doesn't inherently have that same impact on the reader (or only has that impact if the reader is already familiar with them culturally, or is familiar with the niche historical/religious subject you're working with).

An obvious one in mine is Esben's pets, for example, are called Kottr the dog and Hundr the cat - Kottr in Old Norse means cat, and Hundr, dog. A lot of English speakers will notice the cognates there if they think about it, but I've had people who speak Nordic languages comment on it a lot because it's just a fun little thing.

Gellert Osgodby has named himself after Gelert the dog - but in Welsh, we don't use two Ls to make an "l" sound. In Welsh, his name would be pronounced more like Geshert (the ll sound isn't easy to transcribe in English). He's fucked that up, and that's part of how you can tell he isn't Welsh himself, and isn't a Welsh speaker.

I definitely am influenced most by Welsh and Irish mythologies and stories, and I do tend to play with some Jewish cultural elements a lot as well, if not directly with Jewish mythologies.

Part of that, I regularly say, is because of the way that Welsh and Irish stuff tends to be treated by US American creators who identify as Welsh/Irish/Scottish/ "Celtic" or whatever and just go for random butchery of everything in sight - it's not their fault they don't have any sense of cultural respect, because that's not the culture they were raised in, but it does irritate me, and like...

Because I get so snippy about Welsh stuff, I try to be a lot more careful handling other cultures, particularly in various ways oppressed or minoritised ones, especially who are often misrepresented in media in similarly clumsy, lazy, or just entitled ways.

For names in cultures I'm less familiar with and coherent with, what I actually do is regularly search the full name I'm using, but also like, search Wikipedia entries for famous celebrities that use that language, come from that country or culture, and are of the same caste, religion, or ethnicity as the character(s) I'm working on and basically just read a bunch and contrast and compare.

Sometimes I very explicitly go against a lot of cultural stuff depending on which cultures I'm drawing from - Velma Kuroda, for example, has picked a name very much at odds with the more traditionally Japanese name her brother has picked, and that has to do with family beef that I'll get into later in Little Devils.

In Derek Landy's Skulduggery Pleasant, people have three names - their regular name, their magical name, and then their true name written on their soul, by which they can be commanded and coerced; in T.S. Eliot's The Naming of Cats, cats have three different names - the name by which their human family call them, the name by which they're known to other cats, and then their secret, most innate name, known only to themselves.

Many of us have multiple names and go by different names in different circles - many Jewish people have a Hebrew name, and gerim might pick one when they convert; in Ireland, a lot of people have their names as Béarla different to their names as Gaeilge.

Some people go by their middle names or are called a completely different name to the one they were named at birth - Hell, some people don't even realise until they're adults that the name everyone's always called them isn't their official documents name.

And that's not even considering queer people and how many names we might cycle through, feeling out the ones that fit or don't, using different names in different circles or for different personas, using different names online or offline.

There's a lot of power in a name and in a naming, but there's also a lot of leeway and flexibility, and one name isn't the same to all the people who might use it - I try to reflect that living quality in lots of the characters I write and play with.

With a name, I would say it's important to think about how it feels in your mouth and in your hands - how it feels to say your name, how it feels to write it, how it might feel to write your signature, what spelling you choose or what characters it's made up of, what your initials might be, etc. What nicknames you might or mightn't like.

How does or would the name strike people, depending on who they are or where they're from or how old they are? Are you named for someone - someone people would or wouldn't recognise? A figure from myth, from TV, from books, a historical figure, a religious or cultural figure, someone you love, a relative, an ancestor? Is your name usually a name at all?

I know so many people with so many beautiful names, many of them unexpected, either because their parents or family chose them, or because they chose them themselves, and I know there's a lot of choice out there, but good luck with the hunt! I hope you find something that fits, and feels like it sings to you!