#i will hype them up til the end of time

[crucialplayer]

Thoughts on Venus placements

!! everything is based purely on my experiences with signs, written with no other purpose than to share my observations and be unserious.

Aries Venus. View public humiliation as a flirting tactic. Will borderline call you stupid and ugly and genuinely expect people to get the hint that they’re actually very interested. Will prob ask themselves out on ur behalf. If u don't show interest immediately as they enter a room they’re done. Life is a cycle of falling in and falling out. Romance is 90 percent fucking.

Taurus venus. Like anyone who’s pretty but LOVE prob one person in a lifetime. Will have an aneurism if you try to rush them or speed up the prelude. Unbearable in their pickiness (esp with food and smells). Have deluded themselves into thinking there are people dying waiting for them to grace this earth with their love and attention. Limit freedom but act bothered when being imposed with the same limitations. 

Gemini venus. What’s there to say that hasn't been already cried out loud by the casualties of their love. Wandering eye. Don't promise much and deliver even less. Fun tease flirts, will take you on Before Sunrise style date and rot ur brain with all the talk. Like to leave people wondering. Everyone wants to try this one out at least once. Word’s been going around that a non-cheating-gemini Venus has been spotted in the wild but we’re yet to confirm the evidence. 

Cancer venus. Want to be treated like a baby but always end up babying other people. Want to please their loved ones at all times and if not met with instant appreciation become very irritated and sad. Never voice their needs properly. Expect the most distant emotionally constipated people they usually choose as their partners to be mind-readers. Cook-clean-snog love. 

Leo venus. Promise u the moon and the stars but will be too lazy to actually get them. Love themselves first and won't let you forget that. If not received naturally - will drag those compliments out of you manually. At their best great at hyping people up. Love anyone who praises them. Also kinda get attached quite fast. Get jealous and offended easily (I feel like I say this about every Leo placement but what can u do).

Virgo venus. No one can please them and with time fewer people try. Get the ick over people simply breathing. Want the most sterile of love there is. If you’re not the best at your craft or do not aspire to be WHY the fuck not??? Legit think organizing ur desk is a good substitution for letting know they have warm feelings towards you.

Libra venus. Their partner is the star of the night month year life. Choose partners that can be bragged about and envied for. Very loving never shut up about their relationship no matter the setting always find a reason to bring them up. In a relationship make concessions until they blow up.

Scorpio venus. Insanity falsely taken for being in love. Blood contract on the first date. The ones that giggle at cannibalism=love metaphors. Might just lock you up but in a romantic wayyy... Romance is NOT a joke and ANY attempt making FUN of it WILL NOT slide. Looking around might count as cheating. Also if I may I suggest never leaving them on read..) Forever and always til death do us part. 

Sagittarius venus. Often forget that they are in a relationship. Love the fun aspect of dating, but hate everything else. Need someone who constantly shakes things up and makes life interesting for them. In an ideal world, they travel around the globe and have a lot of se make meaningful connections for life. Very playful tho!

Capricorn venus. In relationships become very domestic but it takes a lot for them to actually end up in such. Love language is to cover basic necessities and feel worn out after that. Typically require to be TAUGHT on love and I know there are some people who find this an exciting quest god bless you on that journey. Prob the most rigid Venus in terms of compatibility with others imo. 

Aquarius venus. So fucking random in terms of people they crush on like I can never guess who’s gonna tingle their interest braincell this time. Normally they go for the intellectuals but once they think they’ve got too predictable with it next choice is gonna be wild. Friends with people who have a crush on them and are oblivious to it. Freeze when you get mushy or clingy with them. 

Pisces venus. Takes a village to pull them out of that one abusive dynamic they’ve been perpetually stuck in. Unironically think of themselves as smol beans. Dedicate their whole unprompted to the person they’ve had a crush on for like two days. Very very veryyyy lovey-dovey-sweet-corny, have no problem confessing their love. Likely to draw ur portrait if they like you. 

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hi!

I just wanted to say that I absolutely love all of your COD fics! Your Price fics made me fall in love with him (I saw a recommendation for See No Evil on TikTok and just went down the rabbit hole from there (it’s also my comfort fic)) and Laughing Poets made me buy Ghosts for Keegan. Your writing is so beautiful and poetic and has inspired me to start writing again after a really bad writing’s block!

I also did want to put in a request for Ghost (because I love him so much) but given his hype, I understand if you don’t want to write for him or if it may be hard. But I was hoping that this hasn’t been done before (much) and that I could read it in your words since you are so amazing!

I was thinking of the reader being a CIA agent that was working undercover to get classified information and 141 was sent in to extract her after she was compromised. And her and Ghost don’t really get along at first, like they don’t hate each other but they could just care less about one another. But then they get separated and one of them is injured and the other fights tooth and nail to get to them, realizing how much they care. I was thinking that her callsign could be ‘Reaper’ but it can be anything else if it fits better. It can be angsty (because that’s the absolute best genre), fluffy, nsfw, whatever you want to do with it.

I know this is asking a bit much and I’m sorry for that. Feel free to change it as you see fit and do whatever you want with it, if you want to do it. I really appreciate and love your work!! Thank you!!

'Til it Hurts

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

Synopsis: You thought that it would be easy - moving on and blazing your own trail, but at every step, memories seem to come back and haunt you. And the biggest memory takes the shape of a man with a skull mask. Can you still deny what you had always felt when he stands at your side once more?

Word Count: 12.5k

Warnings: This duology will be 18+ and contain the following: intense gore, blood, violence, vulgar language, angst, fluff, suggestive content, (smut, p in v sex, virgin!reader (relevant to plot) all in part 2), abuse of power in the past, toxic working environment in the past, copious flashbacks, soft!simon because I love him like that (I guess considered ooc), banter, etc...

A/N: Part 2 will be posted tomorrow after I edit it and the link will be added to this part as well for ease of access. But, anna, that's wild that people post about my work on tiktok, lmfao. I'm so glad I helped you out of that writer's block, though! Enjoy part 1, Love (I did change it around a bit)!

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

You often think of the friends you had when you were six. The neighborhood you grew up in was full of other kids your age, and there was practically a horde of young boys and girls outside at any given moment. Early mornings were ripe for adventures – ears perking up from your pillows at the sound of bird songs and lawnmowers like an instinctual call to cause mischief. Days would run long and nights would end late with games of tag. 

It was inevitable, at this point in your life, to not think about where your friends would be now. Were they happy? Starting families and getting married on island resorts; white sand underfoot and a gentle lapping of ocean water? You’d lost contact a long, long, time ago – never bothered to get back in touch, though you know things might be better if you had. 

God, you’d never have friends like that again. 

Selfless. Genuine. Without competition or a need to stab each other in the back. Friendships built on a childlike innocence that was never meant to stay or grow with the brutal stretch of years. People mature. They harden, sharpen. 

They break themselves to fit a mold of what they want to be without even realizing…Or maybe that was just how you grew up. 

Your feet pound against the cobblestone streets of Bergamo, Italy, as you make your way through the packed road of the Upper Old District. Under your chin, your fingers go up to grasp the scarf around your neck and pull the thick navy fabric up farther. Fast eyes flicker over faces as a fake plastered smile splays over your lips, and your jaw holds a tension that seeps into your shoulders.

Keep the act up, you have to remind yourself, fingers heavy at your hips, don’t let the facade slip, or else it’s over before it begins.

At your sides, past the unending sea of loudly speaking humans and loyal animals alike, the broad expanse of ancient architecture calls to the history of this city; red-terracotta roofing, extravagant greenery, and pillars as tall as the buildings themselves. A picturesque land filled with mysteries lost to time, stories never told beyond the scratch of a pen and moth-eaten parchment. 

A city now filled with killers. 

“Sitrep,” you grunt into the open channel, the earpiece fizzling as it sits in the clutch of your canal. No one answers and, slipping past a family of tourists, you glare at the ground; heart going so fast you feel like it could jump-start a car. “Damnit!”

The seconds draw on and as you pick up the pace, now shoving your way through the crowd, you feel eyes on you. Slithering over your skin like oil. 

Not good. 

Shit. Karver, where did you go!? 

Karver ‘Rigs’ Massarini was an informant – someone who’d been giving you everything that you needed to know about the cell in this area; along with a grouping of eyewitnesses to a stash of ICBMs. A stash that could do some serious damage if they stayed here with the wrong people. Intel suggests that those very missiles were going to be shipped off to Mexico in only a few days, smuggled across the border into United States territory with the intent of doing some pretty awful stuff and framing the US. 

If you and Rigs weren’t quick with this, so many innocents would suffer.

You’d already gotten into contact with Mexican Special Forces yourself, warning Alejandro Vargas and Rodolfo Parra of a possible breach and to watch for any unregistered shipments on the docks or coming in from the air. 

But now Rigs was missing, and you had a funny feeling you were being trailed. 

Back alley. You take a quick right, boots slamming to the ground and heart hammering. Get away from the civvies in case someone decides to go trigger-happy. 

This cell was known for being deadly, Mr. Massarini had sent the file over to CIA headquarters before you were shipped out; Laswell had set you on it right away without even taking the time to read it entirely.

“Extremely high Kinetic; I’m giving you full Execute Authority on this, Reaper. We’re running out of time. Find those missiles.” 

Torture, kidnappings, mutilations, the list went on for this group and how far they would go to keep secrets. No one had gotten any clear insight as to what their motives were – just that they needed to be put down in exactly the ways they had been doing to others. Ruthlessly, before they grew bigger or spread their influence beyond borders, and created a group that could rival what Al-Qatala had been. 

So that was where you came in. 

God, you wished Farah and Alex were here with you – at the very least you could rely on them to help, even if you sectioned yourself off from others more than a dying cat. There was a reason you preferred being sent in alone with only your wits.  

Mostly because of situations like this.

“Rigs, sitrep. Where are you,” you try again, the close walls shrouding in your shadows. Throwing looks over your shoulders, you take down deep breaths, a growl gradually digging itself a hole in your esophagus. Desperately, you say, “I’m heading back to the safe house ASAP. Wait for me there.” 

Your right hand gravitates to your pocket, slipping through the fabric and pushing aside the ripped seam at the bottom. The sheath at your thigh pinches you with every step, but you’ve endured it for years, calluses breeding where the leather had chaffed the flesh to toughness. To an ingrained perfection. Flinching when your fingers bump against the handle, the metal adornments feel cool to the touch despite the sweat dripping down your spine; temperature and nerves leaving your palms sweaty. 

None of this was going to plan.

You caress the small Dirk blade strapped to you, and when the first footsteps enter the alleyway behind you, your hand clenched into a loose fist around it. Your eyebrows pull tight with annoyance.

Taking a slow breath as the trailing stranger begins to move faster, you take a corner, halting the second you were out of sight. You nonchalantly turn on your heel and lean into the wall, feeling your body conform to the building and the stone dig into your back. 

The material is cold, and as you raise your Dirk up, you flip the blade parallel to your forearm, wrist lax, and fingers still. A slow breath flows from your barely-parted lips. 

3 seconds. You don’t blink, only gazing out across the space and noticing the dark shadow gaining ground. 2…1…

Your body jerks forward, free hand snapping out and grasping the fabric of a shirt. Twisting your hips, you plant your feet and wrench the stranger around the corner, breath coming out in a loud snarl. Without a shout, you have the person’s back shoved to the building in an instant, blade held above an Adam’s Apple. 

A man, then.

“I’m going to give you one full minute.” Your Italian was only surface level – far better at understanding others than speaking full sentences. But you think whoever this man is comes to a conclusion well enough. “Before I cut you open and watch the life spill from your eyes.”

You don’t recognize this person, his sharp face or dark, sly, eyes, and with a quick assessment of his large stature you figure out he’s the basic definition of a man sent to complete a job. One that would have left you dead if you were anything less than a contracted CIA Agent on a job. You had been trained among the best from your time in the Marines – years on Special Ops forces; taking point. Even if they were the worst times of your life, you still learned a great deal from them, particularly, how to know when to cut your losses. 

With one look into his smug face, you know that this stranger would tell you nothing. 

Your lips formed a grimace, teeth flashing under flesh at the rod-straight form of the man under you. He was smirking with eyes seeming to be laughing at you. Arrogant. Self-assured. 

“You’ll get nothing out of me, Reaper. We are already on your trail.” Your head tilts, a numb huff escaping your throat and pushing the individual's hair back as a breeze would. There was a small pause; tiny shiftings of your feet as your blade digs ever deeper. 

A thin trail of blood falls from the placement, and your muscles writhe under the epidermis. There’s no thought behind the laugh that enters the air, that cold, dark, thing that’s more of a bark from a hellhound. It was just a realization that no matter where you went, there could never be anything unique anymore. Everyone was always the same. 

“You’ll never get it out of me-”

“Break my bones; rip my flesh, you will never make me talk-”

“If you want to see me beg, you’ll be disappointed-”

There were countless memories you could bring to the precipice of your mind and re-live; moments ingrained into your psyche like a tattoo is to skin. So you can only smile and nod, scarf swishing around your neck. The man looks confused now, if not slightly nervous. That self-assured attitude leaking to the ground. Eyes as dark as obsidian beginning to snap back and forth – looking for a saving grace in the make-up of ancient stone that wasn’t going to come. 

You wondered how many people had died in this city throughout history. The stories lost to time. Have these alleys seen war? Famine?

Have they seen murder? 

But you are a woman of your word. A minute passes in tense silence, your eyes never leaving his own and ears carefully in tune, twitching like an antenna, to the joyous shouts and laughter just a street over. Here you wait like a rat in a trap, though you like to believe yourself more of the metal Hammer than the unknowing participant in a dance of death and wits.

You tighten your grip on your Dirk, shrugging up at the man. Your face is nonchalant as an understanding smile grows. As simple as a server at a restaurant.

“I believe you.” And you run the knife’s edge across his flesh like a match to a striker before he can scream.

Stepping back, you’re suddenly thankful for the scarf over your sweat-slick neck because as the spray of blood splatters over your nose bridge and forehead, you swipe it away with one of the ends of the thick fabric. You let the body drop, watching large hands snap to the gushing wound like that alone would stop the cold grip of death. 

Your mark has been met. 

The External Carotid Artery was easy enough to cut, though you had to dig deep for it, and it seemed the man had moved mid-slice. Frowning while the man gasps and gurgles; flails as a fish would, you study your work as you flick the blade clear of blood. Your brows furrow. 

“Nicked the Thyroid Cartilage, hm.” Sighing and shaking your head, you sheathe the Dirk and twist on your feet, still intent on making your way back to the hotel safe house and trying to find a lead on Rigs. The slumping of a body reverberates a moment later, a grandiose death rattle, and still, only a street over you hear animated conversations – the bustle of traveling feet, and the sound of the breeze. 

You often think about the friends you had when you were six. But, now, instead of being the one who fought off the monsters at the ends of the beds, you had become it. The monster. The boogeyman. 

The Reaper. 

Oh, what would they think of you now? 

You swipe at the blood along your fingertips, seeing the red bleed under your nails with such a numb feeling that it scares you more than anything. Taking down a gathering of saliva that feels more like a slug in your throat, you wonder when you lost the ability to value human life. Of course, the answer was slated in those early years in Special Ops, but you don’t dwell on those times. 

In fact, it was better if you never thought of them at all. 

Taking a left, you hum a tune under your breath and listen to the birds sing as the blood dries. 

—

The meeting room wasn’t even a room, just a vacant air-craft hangar that had been fitted out with two rows of metal fold-out chairs and a projector. Shadows danced over the floor, long streaks of darkness over concrete. 

“...I’ll be giving you full Execute Authority – but this mission is completely Black. Host weapons only. No Evac team.” Laswell’s voice echoes off the ceiling, and Ghost’s eyes flow over the projected intel, memorizing the faces and locations with nothing more than a blink of his blue eyes. Fluttering eyelashes caress the hard material of his mask before settling. 

Task Force 141 was being sent off on another deployment again, deep into Belarus and near the Russian border.

“Time frame?” The Captain asks, standing a small distance away and leaning against a crate of ammunition. His arms are crossed; jaw is loosely set. 

Kate looks at him, above the heads of Gaz and Soap, and nods her head before she comments, “one week.”

Gaz huffs from ahead of the hulking form of Ghost, and the silent man shifts his attention back to the group. 

“One week, Kate? No offense, but we don’t even know if the bastard’s in Belarus.”

“‘fraid to get dirty there, Garrick? Ah, we’re good enough for it.” Soap elbows the male at his side, and the masked man releases a puff of breath one row back. The Scot twists in his seat, mohawk tendrils falling over his forehead, and smirks. “C’mon Lt. back me up here. We’ve got this in the bag already.”

“Bit confident, Johnny?” Ghost grunts out, accented voice low and muffled from under the black fabric over his lips. His hips shift over the chair, legs splayed and arms crossed as he reclines back; letting the bulk of his gear weigh heavy. “Just wait until you’ve got us sitting on a pile of dry leads and rotting corpses.”

“Eh, nothin’ we haven’t dealt with before.”

“Focus, you three.” Kate interrupts as Gaz rolls his eyes to himself, fixing his ball cap over his head with a fast flick of his wrist at the antics of the other two. “You’re going to be shipped out at 2000–”

An easily recognizable ringtone starts to play. 

Blinking in surprise, Laswell takes a glance at the table that had been long forgotten and spies her phone buzzing over the metal. Her light brown hair, kept securely tied back, swished at the nape of her neck. She wastes no time.

Briskly walking over, the rest of the men in the room watched intently, heads perked up. Ghost couldn’t stop the pique of interest at the strange behavior, though his form remains still, only making a noise under his breath in contemplation. In the hold of his crossed arms, his fingers tighten.

“Not the person I’d imagine keeps her phone on for just anyone…” Gaz makes a slow comment, and John slides up beside him, hands hooking onto the sides of his combat vest. Watching. 

“Hm,” their command affirms.  

 Kate picks up her phone and immediately answers, brows furrowed. She shifts her weight as an inhalation reverberates. The conversation on the other side was too muffled, a small droaning the only signal that someone was on the opposite.

Unconsciously, Ghost straightens in his chair as the rolled-back sleeves of his undershirt leave his black ink tattoos on display. A deep intrigue spilled in his chest but otherwise, he was still focused on the previous instructions for the next Op. This was just another cog in the wheel, perhaps a location change for their safe house, or an accelerated timeline. No matter, they would get it done regardless–

“Reaper?” Laswell speaks, and blue eyes slide to stare at the Captain, whose legs had tensed. “What’s happened–” 

The Lieutenant knows something was wrong just by the simple fact that he’d never seen their Station Chief talk on her personal phone with that look on her face before – he’d seen it mirrored on the Captain and he’d clocked it from her just as simply. The wrinkled skin at the side of her eyes, and stiff-set lips peeled back in a frown. She’d always been serious, but the air was different. 

Reaper? He runs through the database of his mind and ignores Gaz’s and Johnny’s muttered words and glances. 

“Now who do you think that is, then?” Soap grunts out. Ghost doesn’t answer.

Brows furrow. 

Sounds familiar, the man can’t help but admit. 

“Patch me through. Now.” Kate slips to the computer a few steps away and opens a fresh tab, sorting through files and months of intel as if it mattered just as much as a bug under her heel.

“Kate?” Price prompts. The woman only holds up a finger and keeps the phone in between her shoulder and cheek, hands fast across the keys. 

Soon enough, a feed pops up on the projector, and the three previously sitting all rise to their feet in an instant. 

An open wound is in the process of being stitched and displays itself over the entire available space, violent red internal flesh puckering over the edges of…Ghost narrows his eyes, unphased.

Was that a fabric needle and thread being used for sutures? Resourceful, he admits.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell.” The manchester man levels thought the blandness of the tone contradicts itself. “Where’s this feed from, Laswell?”

“What the fuck…?” Soap growls out, and the Scot blinks at the screen in shock as the Brit beside him lets off a sound of disgust akin to a sick cat. 

“Reaper, sitrep.” Kate doesn’t flinch, rushing off into procedure as steady hands delve back into flesh, blood falling from their fingers like water to splatter to a rundown wooden table. The world-away computer was most likely getting a rain of crimson all over the keys at this rate. 

Price grunts under his breath. 

“Shit,” a distinctly feminine voice wafts out, a harsh sigh held back, though the annoyed tone was noticed immediately, “can’t a girl stitch herself up in peace? Besides, Watcher-1 answer me this, huh?” The computer is jerked, its screen going staticky as Ghost watches with roving eyes to take in the background when the visibility returns. A bed, nightstand, and sitting by the floor of the front door, copious amounts of weapons. The man takes stock – an M13 assault rifle, X12 handgun, and Arctic .50 sniper rifle. Ammunition lines the floor in a way that leaves Ghost’s lips thinning under the mask. 

Someone’s in a hurry. But from what?

“…what goddamn hotel doesn’t have mirrors in it?” Kate’s sigh can be heard a mile away. “No, I’m being serious here, Watcher – how the hell does that happen?” 

Watching you take a step back, Ghost as well as the other three all blink in surprise when you come into view. Your top was off, only a sports bra covering your flesh, as your focus stays on the digging needle you send into yourself over and over. 

Yet again a feeling of intense familiarity strikes the Brit in the chest. Your soft face, your hair, your voice. It was infuriating.

Who are you? The inability to call forth a memory leaves the fists at his sides gradually clenching under his gloves. 

“Reaper.” Seriousness grows in the Agent’s voice, and Price lets out a slow chuckle that leaves Gaz turning to him in confusion. 

“Sir?” But the inquiry is ignored.

“Still as stubborn as ever, then, Reap?” Everyone sees your hurried stitches stop, head snapping up as they clock a veiled panic behind the iris’. 

Your eyes tell all the story they need, and Ghost’s body freezes as the color evokes a physical twitching of his hand. 

“Holy hell,” he utters under his breath so silently no one even realizes he spoke; eyelids pulling back before settling like nothing had even happened.

“You know, you're the first person who’s been nice to me out here.”

“...Then I’d tell you to get better friends, Sergeant. I’m not sticking around.”

“I never said they were my friends, Ghost, and I never expected you to stay, anyways. That’s not how this works.”

“You’re right. It’s not.”

“Bravo-06?” You ask, voice sometimes cutting out over the line. A laugh breaks out, and a small smirk twitches the corners of your lips, “Hey, Old Man, how’s it going over there? Been a while.”

“What have you got yourself into now?” Price asks, chuckling under his breath with a groaned continuation, “and how do you need me to get you out of it?”

The spectral man now watches with a newfound fervency, blue eyes boiling so violently that if anyone had seen, they would have thought he was about to attack. Like a split second of eye contact with a wolf before it rushes. The build of his shoulders was still loose, however, and the only indication of shock was his optics; the mask shrouded all. 

But there was a subtle movement of his hips, feet transferring over the floor to stand shoulder-length apart.

“Oh, this,” you point to your injury with a free finger, tying off a knot on the last line of sutures. “Nah, it’s nothing. A couple of assholes tried to get the jump on me a block back, one had a knife on ‘em.” Your hand tosses the needle and thread to the table, a muttered, thunk, sounding off. Looking down at your work with a raised brow, everyone watches. “Took care of it – they gave me a name, too, but with the trail of bodies I left today, I wouldn’t be surprised if it didn’t pan out.” 

A pause before you turn your head back up, face now completely serious as you focus on Laswell. 

“But we have a bigger problem, Watcher. Rigs is gone; I think my position’s compromised. I’m going black.” Your form leans to the side, and a wrinkled t-shirt is thrown over your head. From your mouth, a stifled groan releases. Ghost blinks in surprise.

The Captain’s lips thin, and he looks at a tight-wound Kate. 

“I have a contact in the lower levels, Reaper, meet up with her and she can have you out of the city by tonight. I’ll send over her info.”

“No can do, Watcher.” You sigh, and Ghost simply stares, following your figure as you back up, heading to the X12 and shimmying it into the back of your pants before looking over your shoulder. Kate hums under her breath. “If they’ve got Rigs,” Walking quickly back over to the computer, one of your hands grasps the top of the frame, thumb poking out from the corner. You tilt your head. “I ain't leaving without him right behind me. I’ll be in contact in a month – if I’m not, then I’m dead already.” 

Your chuckle strikes a cord through the room and Soap snorts in answer. 

“Glass-half-empty kind of person, then?” 

“I’d say,” Gaz mutters.

Continuing, you’re about to say something else – lips already partially parted and breath sucked in  – before your eyes lock onto Ghost. The atmosphere of the room flips like the page of a book. 

You stare at him with what seems to be a million emotions flying past the glossiness of your optics; lids already peeled back and whites showing in a display that showed more than told. The man could only begin to imagine what you were thinking – how long had it been since he’d seen you last? You’d obviously gotten out of your Marines Special Ops unit. 

Not quite how I remember you. It wasn’t hard to recall that small branch of the MRR – Marine Raider Regiment – and how they treated you. But that wasn’t any of his business. He’d been there to do a job, and he’d accomplished it. Quite thoroughly, if anyone would have checked the file after it was all over. 

Ghost’s life was counted in the sands of an hourglass, small, molecular, bits hitting the bottom one after the other; rarely was that time wasted on pointless squabbles and words but at that moment, he was conflicted. 

The Brit had never expected to see you again, and the sand briefly halted when you spoke. Hm. 

Yes, he remembered that voice… he’d just never heard you this confident before. 

“Ghost.” He watches the emotions on your face settle, and he was thankful for the mask covering his visage because he knows he would have left at least a small twitch of his lips slip. “Long time no see.”

“Mutt.” The Lieutenant nods in a monotone greeting but notices a slight jerk of your shoulders at the name. His eyebrows furrow, but mentions nothing as his pulse slows. 

Your neck moves as you swallow, looking to the side as a dark curiosity fills the space in Ghost’s lungs; head nanoscopically tilting to the side like a vulture. 

“Nice seeing you, Bravo-06,” You tilt your head toward the Captain before clearing your throat and addressing Laswell. “I’ll be around.” 

It wasn’t hard to tell that the title had made you freak, a kind of bad cloud suddenly springing to life above your head. 

Seems to bother her more than being in a Hot Zone, Ghost tells himself, the deep well of dark water in his gut still. That didn’t make any sense. He watches your hand slaps over the computer and the feed goes dark in an instant. 

The room is more silent than Ghost is. 

“Kate, she’ll need our help.” Price shakes his head from side to side; body moving to the front of the room. “I’m not asking.” 

The two talk it over as Ghost’s mind trails, head tilting down more towards his chest as his eyelids narrow. 

“Hm,” He grunts, arms tensing as his grip shifts. Soap turns around as Gaz goes to join the conversation between the Captain and the agent.

“What? Know ‘er or something, Lt?” The Scot asks, slapping a hand on the taller man’s arm. Ghost eyes lock on the grip before he blinks, looking back up and leveling the Sergeant with a dead stare. Johnny laughs awkwardly and moves his limb back to his side. “Just…didn’t peg you for the type to start relationships.”

The Lieutenant turns down the aisle of chairs and lets out a bland, “negative. Leave it, Sergeant.” 

Why did you react badly to the namesake you’d gone by for the entire time you’d been in Special Ops? Mutt was when everyone had called you when he had been around for that short time. 

He felt no great concern for you – no hatred or care – you were just another Agent that would probably end up dead like everyone else. Another time, maybe, he’d have gone in a heartbeat, and if the team decided to go after you, he’d follow. A mission was a mission, it wasn’t like it largely mattered. 

But there was something in the back of his mind. Intrigue? Yes, perhaps. The blue-eyed Lieutenant wasn’t one to dwell on these types of things, but a colleague was still a colleague. 

Whatever the outcome, he’d do his job with all the ruthlessness and tact he always did.

Ghost’s hand goes up to fix the position of his mask and glances at the blank projector stream, eyes boring into it as they darken. A moment later, he was leaning against the ammunition crate that Price had previously been on, arms crossed and ears twitching at the ongoing battle of wills; isolated to himself as his intimidating form towers ever upwards. Spine straight. Bones stiff. Eyes grim. 

You’d been nice to him – a person that, for the limited time he’d interacted with, had left an impression that was only just starting to come back full force. Smart and resourceful; not too bad on the eyes. 

He takes down a sigh. Stubborn…but undoubtedly loyal. 

His thumb brushes your cheek, and you look up at him as if he wasn’t the one in a mask – as if his entire being was laid bare before you. He swipes away the trail of blood with one firm press. The gentleness of your skin is known even through his glove.

“You’ll live, Sergeant.” He utters, teasing in his monotone voice, “now, where the hell are we goin’? Gun’s itchin’ to lay a few out.” 

Ghost would have smirked at the way your eyes dilated if he had the ability, but in the end, he brushes past. Because if he hadn’t, you would have seen his own do the same.

‘Reaper,’ he frowns, feeling the ammunition crate dig further into his hip, they never called you that one.

Perhaps the real battle of wills was happening inside of him – not five feet away between his Captain and his Station Chief.

—

You remember every interaction like it was yesterday, and although he might not, you can’t help the memories from flooding as you gather your gear. Stuffing guns into duffel bags and intel into crossbody sacks that weigh you down like boulders. 

Fuck, you open the back window and shimmy out into the back streets, knowing that your position is compromised and not waiting any longer to test your luck. Your side burns something awful; horrible stitches peeling back skin as you groan in pain. What the fuck was Ghost doing with Price? I didn’t know they knew each other. And the two other men in the room…eh. Not the problem right now! 

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” you pant, swinging your legs out of the window frame and sharply inhaling when a suture tears. “I’m never in the loop.” 

In all honesty, you don’t want to be – too complicated. It’s better to just stick around and be told what to do. 

Glaring down at the ground with glazed eyes, you only take a breath of hesitation and let off a curse before dropping. 

Your knees take the brunt of the force, and the ricochets of landing on cobblestones travel up your ankles and leave your legs shaking. If you weren’t running on adrenaline, you would have come up with a dirty joke to mutter to yourself. 

The discomfort can only last so long, you tell yourself, and ignore the spreading liquid on your side, only thinking of Rigs and the mission. 

And Ghost. 

Gritting your teeth, eyes vulnerable, you turn down the backroad and stay away from others, drowning in memories more deadly than blood. It had been a while since you had thought of it – the lockbox in the back of your mind keeping all under tight watch; guard dogs with metal teeth and chained necks. 

But that title; that namesake you’d scrubbed your skin raw over. Mutt and all the others said in cruel breaths. Oh…but Mutt. 

Mutt was the worst of them.

Your hands were vibrating, the tremors traveling up your wrists and arms – past elbows and bruised flesh under skin; bloodied nose and quivering lips. Why did they always yell at you? But worse, why did they always make you do the dirty work? 

The Captain, everyone just called him Alke, was standing in front of you, berating your accuracy on the last round of target practice. Fortunately, this deep into the Unit itself, you’d found a way to let it go in one ear and out the next, eyes as blank as a starless sky. 

You could see the spittle flying from the man’s lips and some even splashes across your cheeks like acid, but there was something artful to the way you didn't react. A culmination of crafted numbness that bleeds like trauma. It was a constant, everlasting, void.  

What they were making you into was not what you wanted, but what possible other option was there? Resign? No, this was nearly an unimaginable position to be in at such an age. You deserve to be here. Should you report the blatant unprofessionalism and favoritism in the ranks? And be blacklisted by these people's friends so that you never ascend the line?

Your ears twitch. 

“...You’re not sleeping until your marks are perfect – else we’re overthinking your position in this Unit. Can’t have a Mutt in our ranks, can we?” The last sentence is punctuated with a ruffling of your hair almost like a brother would; teasing, but you know that isn’t what it symbolizes. Harsh laughs and mocking remarks from the bystanders. “Least of all one that’s gonna get us killed. Tch.” When you don’t answer, staring off in a daze at his nose in a perfect image of formation, the Captain raises an eyebrow. “Affirmative,” he smirks, “Mutt?”

“Sir!” Your mouth shouts, though the action is more instinctual as your back straightens.  He frowns at that, perhaps wanting to torment you more, but huffs and files out, ordering the rest to follow with one last call.

“I expect you to be up for morning drills an hour early. I’ll be checking your shots myself.” 

“Sir!” 

After everyone’s gone, you blink back to reality. There’s a second of confusion, creases forming in your forehead at the sound of birds and blowing glass. Head turning side to side, your lips thin at the absence of others as if only realizing how spaced out you’d actually been. 

Flashing teeth and heated eyes flash through your mind before you blink them away. Signing away the tense nature of your chest, you clear your throat and relax your legs. Your vision slides to the corners of the concrete dugout, snapping past sectioned-off areas for privacy to search if there was someone who might have stayed back. 

Not finding anyone, your hands, clenched behind your back, loosen and fall limp to your sides like bags of rock. One weakly goes to swipe at the trail of blood from your nose, wrecking your already wrinkled sleeve with crimson; but soon an identical trail drips off your chin regardless. Licking your lips and tasting copper, you take a shaky breath and nod to yourself. 

You knew what shooting all night would bring on – lesions under the firing pad covering your shoulder; deep-rooted pain leading to nerve damage later on. Blisters that leak puss and blood onto your bedsheets. Not to mention the mental strain, the bags under your eyes burn from lack of rest. 

Gritting your teeth, you walk over the tossed rifle on the floor and pick it up with shaky fingers, the tips flinching back from the cool metal before encompassing it tightly. 

Silently, you get on your stomach and set the weapon in the crook of your already pain-laced shoulder. Your blood splatters the stock.

—

It had been two weeks with no luck in finding Rigs, and you were starting to get paranoid.

Staring at the dead body tied to the wooden chair, you growl and tear your Dirk from the woman’s chest angrily. 

There had been increased police patrols from all the corpses you were leaving, so you’d compromised and limited the chance of being caught at the same time. 

Bergamo, Italy, was an ancient place, and the underground was what you were now both metaphorically, and physically, exploiting. Sewer systems. Catacombs. You’d lost track of the paths you’d taken a million times over, and had started to hate the constant darkness only kept back by the small hand lamp you’d stolen. 

But there were ups to this constant downward slope. 

It made interrogations increasingly easier to pull off with multiple feet of stone all around you. The screams don’t meet the surface.

“Catello Tullio,” you mutter, caressing your sensitive side with your free hand and placing your blade on a turned-over piece of rock. The area reeks of blood and gore, a stack of bodies chucked carelessly in the corner beginning to reek something awful; even as you have another to add to the count. It wouldn’t be long before the rats came in droves.

Another given name, another score. But this one was new. Apparently, the title of the one that took Rigs while he was out getting more rations in the market. 

You point a finger at the slumped body, “you better hope I don’t find you in hell if you gave me the wrong damn name.” 

Grabbing your light, you stalk off down one side of the tunnel back to your camp, dodging drag lines that strike your eyes with their crimson streaks. 

The raggedy blanket and gun-sack you’d been using for a pillow take form in the dark, and somewhere in the corridor a rat squeals; feet pitter-pattering until it disappears altogether. You didn’t even want to think of the spiders living down here. Files and notes are strewn along the floor, perfect hiding places for eight-legged monsters. 

You couldn’t do anything until nightfall. It was just too risky. 

Massaging your side as you bend down, you grimace at the partially healed wound and scoop up your pistol before plopping to the ground with a grunt. With the deadly object held in your lap, you take a moment to breathe and try to push away a growing headache in the back of your skull. 

“This has to be one of the worst Ops on record, huh?” your small voice speaks back to you in bouncing waves of echoes as you begin to fiddle over the gun's small grooves and dents. “How did you manage this, Reap?”

Smiling blandly, the overwhelming quiet and nothingness all around you is like a curse. And in those pockets of a void, your mind always trails to him – or at least it had been for your time on the run. Ghost. That dark and brooding mass of horribly bleak humor and…well…you couldn’t call him mean. 

Your eyebrows furrow.

He was never mean to me. 

There were soft instances where you would question yourself as to if the Brit had possibly had some affection for you. It wasn’t a long shared history of course, but you had sworn that there was something about the way he looked at you…something that you remember so vividly…

You shake your head and stand after a small while, stretching your feet. Placing your pistol in the back of your belt, the weight brings you dull comfort.

 Shining your light on the hand-held radio on the ground in passing, you rove back to it after you scan the perimeter. Its black metal mocks you.

No one’s coming to help ‘cept you. One voice says, and another grunts out, get it together, Mutt. 

You turn on your heel to go and take a breather to disperse your dark thoughts but only make it three steps before your eyes widen, lips parting in awe. Nearly falling flat over yourself, you whirl around in an instant. 

A static enters the air as if the gods above were laughing at you - toying with your fate like it was a rock tossed to the sky. The familiar British drawl causes your chest to tighten, though the sentence is broken and barely understandable.

Someone’s here for me! A smile slashes your face – fierce hope lighting your eyes. You hadn’t wanted anyone to explicitly come for you, but this was a welcome discovery. Someone to talk to!

“--eper…Copy?” Darting like a cat, you move so fast that you stumble over rocks on the way there. “Lead…cafe…red cloth…Out.”

By the time you snatch the small black object, the garbled and firm tone has already shut itself up. Your mouth parts.

“Shit!” You yell, shaking the thing in your hand with an iron grip, hissing like a snake. You look above you at the cracked ceiling of stone and a growled accusation.“I’m too deep…Fuck. Gotta get up there if I want to be able to respond.”

But it hadn’t all been fruitless. Lead. Cafe. Red cloth. You clip the radio to your belt and make sure your shirt covers your weapon; pat your thigh and tell yourself to stop forgetting your Dirk everywhere before setting off in a jog. The light flashes over dead eyes and stiff bodies.

You snatch the blade off of the stone as you pass it, slipping it into your cut pocket and hearing the satisfying clink of it sheathing.

“Let’s just hope I don’t smell too bad…” You say aloud, chuckling, and listening as the sound echoes off the stone. If no other company, you still had the sound of your own voice. 

You couldn’t decide if that was a good or a bad thing. But, you were getting side-tracked. 

A Cafe with red cloth, then. Not exactly the place you’d go for an intel swap, but if someone had been trying to contact you for more than a week, you’d imagine they were getting desperate at this point. 

If I had known…you frown. 

Thinking over the multiple blueprints and pictures of the city in your files, you go through your internal cabinet of knowledge for color schemes - not what you’d have thought you’d be using it for, but, oh well. A lead was a lead.

“Golositá!” You laugh, sudden glee on your face as you dodge a pile of large stones; lips peeling back as you take a fast corner. “Gluttony! Of course, that’s the place.” 

The bustling business on the upper side of Bergamo with red table cloths as well as red awnings extending into the street. Anyone would be a fool to miss it. 

Like blood lining the street. 

You force yourself to run faster.

—

You met him last, despite being a Sergeant. The Captain had you up late last night yet again – running the forest trail this time rather than shooting. In the back of your mind, you wondered if it surprised him when you were still up early with the others; from the looks that he was giving you, you just decided that, yes, he was. Or he was just pissed he didn’t have an excuse to get rid of you. 

Blinking away fatigue, you keep your stance relaxed as a gargantuan shadow comes to loom ahead of you. 

The man everyone had whispered about called himself ‘Ghost’ and, if nothing more, was certainly intimidating. Shoulders wider than a bench, arms as rounded and as strong as boulders; not to mention the tattoos that made him look like he took cross-country motorcycle rides in his spare time. Tan tactical gear and dark patches for the SAS, the red and white British flag. Gloves covered his large hands, straps carried knives on his biceps and thigh. Something akin to a tan cape that was loose around his hidden neck.

But the mask was what really caught your attention; your head tilting with an innocence that no longer lives in you.

Skeletal. Half a visage of a dead and gone intimidation of humanity. Sewn into a hood of black cloth from which only the eye sockets were open…But the eyes there were no different than if the holes had been empty in the first place; as if the person inside was as dead as sun-bleached bone. Was a corpse piloting this suit?

Ice blue. Freezing blue. Harsh. Colder than a grip of a phantom, you thought as you blinked up at him, colder than the nights you would stay awake working yourself to death. You watched this Ghost’s chest move in a steady inhalation and you stuck out a busted-knuckle hand. Foolish, maybe, but there were worse things to be afraid of than a mask. Then of those eyes that made your spine shiver. 

But you didn’t look away.

“Pleasure, Sir.” There was a moment of tense silence where your Captain, at Ghost’s side, was frowning at you silently. The man could say nothing as long as this SAS member was here to assist in your next Op overseas. At your sides, your colleagues on the tarmac shuffle on their feet like nervous penguins. 

Ghost glances at your hand, and you try not to show how fast your pulse is running when his eyes leave a cold trail as they grace your split knuckles and torn nails. He ends with a slow look at your name patch. 

“Sergeant.” He says and slips past without another word. His shoulder brushes against yours, and you inhale smoke and ash; gun-cleaning solvent paired with a canvas tent. Dirt and metallic blood. Snickers bounce off air particles, striking your ears as an embarrassed heat rises to your cheeks, but that scent stays in your nostrils for days. 

Your Captain scurries after. 

“Erm, forgive, Mutt. She’s a helluva strange woman, that one.” You keep your sneer hidden, a hiss lodged in your throat and a twitching finger. But your anger isn’t directed at the masked beast that stalks away. That yapping bully of a Captain would hold all of it as long as you were here.

At that point, you were sure you’d seen the last of Ghost until the Op – not really getting the feeling he’s a people person so much as a ‘give orders and follow them’ type. 

But that was fine by you, it didn’t change anything. You’d been told to go back to the firing range tonight for opening your mouth and ‘making an embarrassment of the Unit’....whatever that meant. All you did was welcome the guy with the barest hint of a good attitude. 

You supposed manners were a foreign concept around here.

The world ahead of you was blurring, red circles in your eyes that gloss over with water every minute you force yourself to stay awake. The stars were out, sky dark, and the area was only lit by large lights situated around the base. In some sort of strange way, you enjoyed the sound of crickets and the cold breeze over your bare arms as if the only sense of peace you got was when you were half-passed out, nailing shots from a rifle. 

The stock was where it always is, your cheek pressed to the side; staring down the scope at the multiple holes in the paper targets. Dots surrounded by multiple other dots like a slice of cheese. You suppose that made you the hungry mouse in that case. 

‘A mouse with a fucking day before she drops.’ You frown, blink, and pull the trigger as the trees rustle. The force lands directly on your shoulder – the kickback is usually not one to bother you, but seeing as your appendage was one bad day away from being dislocated and forever damaged – you took it with a grit of your teeth. 

And you took it because you knew you could. Just as you knew that you felt a pair of eyes on the back of your neck. Freezing, you remove your finger from the trigger and loosen your grip. Turning your head to the side, a free hand goes up and shifts the ear mufflers from your head to your neck in a single movement. 

You swear your heart jumps to your throat when you see a skeleton’s icy blues numbly watching you; arms crossed while a nice-looking SA-B 50 Marksman Rifle sits against the wall at his side. How…long had he been there? Watching?

“What’re you doing, Sergeant?” Ghost asks sternly, that Manchester accent making him sound harsh. Grating like a rock being run against concrete. “I’m sure your Captain wouldn’t be thrilled at a scene like this, eh?” 

Blinking, you remind yourself to breathe before answering – voice tough and hoarse.

“I have my orders, Sir. You’re free to join me.” 

You turn back as a grunted huff falls from behind muted cloth. Ghost walks up to your laying form, standing on your left side and picking up the binoculars from the hanging hook in your station. As you look back through your scope you don’t know why, but you hold your breath; waiting for something.

“...Not a bad shot. You’re prone to firing more to the right, judging from the grouping. I’d fix that, less you miss a moving target runnin’ the opposite.” He lowers the object - staring from the side of his eye. From your position, your neck cranes to see his fingers twitch. “Wouldn’t want that, would we?” For someone you’d expected to be quite harsh – though you had no doubt he still was – Ghost was more sarcastic in his mannerisms. 

Backhanded comments that wound sting if you got on the other end of them.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Sir.” Shifting your grip, you move the stock farther up your shoulder, feeling an immediate release of tension, though the expansive trauma still leaves needles in your tissue.

“Hm, pay attention and you just might learn something.” You feel yourself quirk a lip for the first time in months; your mouth doesn’t stop to think.

“You mentor a lot of people in the middle of the night, then?” 

“Only the ones stupid enough to be awake.” He takes a step back, going to grab his own rifle as his footsteps don’t even make a sound.

‘Quiet for a guy with thighs that could choke me out.’ 

Your brows furrow at the heated thought, taking a slow breath and flexing your hands as the shadow disappears from over you. Why were your hands sweaty?

Were you…afraid? That…that wasn’t it.

“You’re up too, you know, Sir. Bit hypocritical.” This was the first time you’d had a full conversation with someone since you’d gotten in with this Unit. A mildly pleasant one, at least…you wouldn't really call this bonding.

“I can always leave ya’ to it, Sergeant.” Deadpanning the words, you clear your throat and fall silent at the threat. 

‘No,’ you wanted to comment, ‘no, I want the company so badly it hurts.’ 

You swallow saliva and reposition your ear mufflers back over your head, heart bruising your ribs, as you bring down a calming breath of air to still your nerves. 

The two of you don’t speak again, and you don’t ask why he takes the shooting cubby right next to yours, the nose of his rifle peeking out from the concrete wall. You certainly don’t ask why he’s up, either.

And in return, he doesn’t ask you the same.

—

When you find Golositá you’ve managed to sneak through the city unseen, taking every backroad and alley you could as the heat of the day increases to near sweltering. Panting, you stick to the thin shadows of the path across the street, eyes dancing over red cloth and flicking to faces; studying visages as one would a medical report. 

Your chest hurts, and you run a hand over your side, feeling the raised skin under your shirt before digging into the aching ribs. All this running around and little food to help keep your normal strength was troublesome, and it would only get worse if this Op from hell continued. 

I need new intel. Badly.

About to retreat, not finding anyone you recognize off the bat, a black-shrouded figure kisses the side of your vision as if a phantom. 

On the outside table, the farthest removed, a man sits stiffly with an untouched teacup in front of him. Smirking, you can’t help but scoff at the thought of Ghost using the thing – you’d think his thumb and forefinger would break the delicate porcelain in an instant. Like a spine over his thigh.

Your cheeks heat. 

He looked almost identical to what you remember – minus the gear, obviously – and your stomach twisted at the thought. Was a simple look enough to bring you to the breaking point? Why were your lungs tight?

As if feeling your stuck eyes, those icy blues shift from people-watching to lock onto yours immediately. As hollow as they always were, it seemed. He blinks and the blonde eyebrows on his sliver of visible forehead move.

Shit. Your hips trade weight. Look at you.

Loose shoulders under a rugged buttoned-down and painted balaclava make your breath go thin, not able to resist sneaking a glance at those tattoos you remember so vividly. Yes, that was still Ghost.

Jesus, is this how it felt to see someone you barely even remembered suddenly appear? Was it elation or caution that was making your heart race? 

Ghost doesn’t look surprised. His eyes don’t widen; don’t soften or light up. They blankly watch you as you shake away the shock and raise a brow in return. A sarcastic finger goes to your head, and you mock salute. 

What are you doing? You seem to ask, a mischievous expression growing as you start forward when he dismissively narrows his eyes. You look ridiculous. Are you asking to be spotted? 

The man leans into the too-small chair he sits in, one hand going to hang off the back and the other resting on the tabletop. Gloved fingers tapping morse in slow measures.

Clear. Come here. He follows you with his gaze, head stationary, as you enter the flow of traffic, smiling at people at your sides and letting off polite greetings when you could. Steadily striding, you weave through groups and individuals like water, legs steady even as your ears pick up every little sound. 

A comfortable middle point of visible excitement and strict business. Why were you so…happy?

When you approach Ghost’s table, you slip up beside him with a sly chuckle, pulling out the chair to his right. You, softy, lower yourself down into it, not turning to him but instead simply making sure no one had followed you with a quick scan. His heat only adds to the warmth of the day like a walk through damnation.

“Well, well, well,” you smile, addressing the SAS member with his shadow hanging over you once more; such a heavy thing, though you don’t mind. Your expression mellows to have it above you again. There was a safety to it, you had to admit. The cold comfort of death. “Trip to Italy, Sir? Take a little vacation?”

“Came to bail out a bird from my past,” You smell that scent again – smoke and ash; gun-cleaning solvent paired with a canvas tent. Dirt and metallic blood. “And if I ever went on a vacation, I sure as hell wouldn’t pick this place. ‘Bout to burst into flames; traumatize a few kids and their mums.” 

Hadn’t he changed even a little bit? 

“Now that’s dark.” 

“Never said it wasn’t.”

Of course he hasn’t, you answer your own question, feet shifting and skin pliable, why would he? He isn’t like me – didn’t have to reinvent himself based on atoms and in the wake of silent nights. 

There was a piece of you that believed that Ghost had always been this way, though you knew it was false. Nobody in this profession was just born like this, they were led to it. Whoever it was under the mask or balaclava didn’t matter anymore. 

They had died a long time ago.

“Not a fan of the history, Brit?” You tease, bringing up a hand to itch at your undereye, finally taking a peak at the form that nearly swallows you. 

Your lids try not to peel back, but you didn’t realize how close you’d sat next to Ghost – any closer and you would be in the crook of his arm; the relaxed spread of his knee bumping into yours and arm over the back of your seat. Trying to act nonchalant, you ignore the strange swirling in your gut with a hum and a twitching of your leg.

Stop that.

“Don’t care a smidge, just not a fan of the damn heat.” The gruff man responds with his inked arm on the table flexing, as though he was tenser than he showed. Ghost clears his throat, “needs a good downpour, eh?” 

“Try living underground for two weeks. Literally. Sun’ll feel like a blessing.”

“Fuckin’ hell…That’s why the radio wasn’t working, then.” While this was all cute – re-learning each other like a shaken puzzle – there were dangers to being this open. The Brit would be fine, but if you got spotted, well, there would be worse things to worry about than an achy side and a pile of bodies in a tunnel.

“You got something for me, or are we here just to stand out like bullet holes in a forehead?” Feeling his head tilt to you, snaking down your form, your body leans forward, palms sweaty as they lock on the table. “Price with you? The other two I saw on the feed?”

“Negative. Op in Belarus. Sent me in alone.” Your knees brush, delicately; like a touch of down feathers. You refrain from taking in a shallow breath, knowing he’s analyzing every movement with a hidden mouth and gentle huffs of air that rises his sculpted chest. Through a grunted sigh, Ghost tells, “The Old Man insisted. Laswell thought you’d be alright by yourself, regardless,” and falls silent.

What was he doing? Why was he talking with that rasp in his tone? Your heart swells at the comment about Kate, but a confusing feeling settles in your lower body. Why did the air feel thick?

The warmth of the sun was making your skin perspire, leaving a sheen of sweat over your arms. But the thought of heat stroke fled as you became hyper-aware of the man beside you, keeping careful not to touch you, though his gaze still bore into the side of your face like prodding fingers anyways.

He can’t quite figure you out, he admits to himself. So much of you was different – and he couldn’t tell how. 

She’s lighter, he tightens his face, not the same as when I left. 

But there had been an utter satisfaction when he’d seen you in that alleyway, even if you were different in a million ways, that would never change. Ghost’s body had loosened, his clenched jaw let go, and snappy answers to servers stopped entirely. 

Because those were still the same colored eyes that he remembered. He takes a long breath. 

Through the haze under your creased skin, a red alarm starts to sound off. Not because of the confusing way you felt the chilled form of Ghost on a near internal level, but because of the hooded individual across the street.

When your eyes lock, they back up three paces and bolt down the adjacent street, vanishing into the crowd. Your expression darkens, and Ghost shifts his attention from your face to the streets. 

His eyes blankly follow where you were looking.

“Come on,” you get to your feet, hand snatching at the SAS member's sleeve, dragging him with you as a mother would a toddler. It was ironic – if he resisted, you wouldn’t be able to force him to move, not in a million years, but he slid off his chair with fluid muscles. 

He doesn’t question you when he’s brought into an offshoot of the road, vacant of tourists or locals besides a stray cat and a few scavenger birds. Flies jump off garbage cans, buzzing through the air above your heads as you level Ghost with a serious stare. 

You nearly stumble over your words when you get to look at those long blonde eyelashes that you remember heatedly, but push through as they move to half-lid his blank eyes. Your heart skips beats as you spare looks up and down the space.

What the fuck is going on with me? Focus. This is serious. 

But, Jesus, he should really stop looking at you like that.

“You said you had a lead over the radio – anything on someone called Catello Tullio by chance?” You ask, voice like stone.

“Tullio?” Ghost hums in the back of his throat, all business, hips moving under him as he goes to glance at the street. His balaclava moves as he speaks. “Someone made a mention of it. ‘Fore I put a knife in ‘em, ‘o course.” Nodding, he huffs out, “On me.” 

Turning on long legs, he starts to walk farther down the path, and you follow at his side, peering up and eager to gain more intel. “You’ve caused quite a panic around here, Sunshine. Cell’s terrified of the ‘Reaper.’ I’m nearly impressed.”

He briefly flashes an optic to you, heart betraying him as he remains locked on your lips. Rotating his jaw, he turns back forward.

“Oh, my,” smirking slowly, you roll your eyes, “whatever will I do without your approval, great Ghost.”

“Dunno – kick the bucket probably.” Shaking your head in false annoyance, the slow, mocking, stain in the man’s tone leaks into your very DNA; coating it with honey. Like a warm sunrise, you clock a small hitch in his chest and equate it to muted chuckles when you laugh. 

“Don’t go placing bets, now. I’m not so easily broken.”

“Oh, wouldn’t think of it, Sweetheart. Wouldn’t be my handiwork if it happened,” his tone goes light, “don’t wanna take credit away from you.”

“Brit.” You spit with fake venom.

“American.” He grumbles back, but you clock the small spark in his iris, cold blue bouncing silver light like snow. 

He sounded…entertained? Snide in a sarcastic way. 

Your mouth rises in a stupid, dopey, grin as you stare from the side of your vision, chest jumping in easy comedy. What a strange pair you two were, but you find you liked his company even more, this time around. 

Or maybe he had changed slightly. Or maybe it was just you.

At the end of the day, you were relieved that it was easy to talk to him. Conversations with corpses are a bit one sided, after all.

Ghost’s lips had to be at least quirked under that dark fabric to achieve mischief like what he was spitting out, you leveled with yourself. At the minimum, the man wasn’t annoyed he’d been forced out of his own primary mission because of you. 

You remember he wasn’t averse to cracking jokes – particularly dark ones – but it had…it had never felt like his before.

Strange, you admit with a raised brow and a cocked head, cheeks burning for no apparent reason. You’d gotten him to chuckle? Holy hell, you deserve a Nobel Peace Prize for that. I’d think he would be pretty pissed about being sent here. He’s never been one to fuck around. 

You both continue in easy silence until you decide to speak once more, intent on asking where you were being led. 

Ghost’s head had perked up in what you assumed to be soldier-like attention, but then his head had whipped behind the two of you. Oblivious to his shift in mood, like a dark cloud, you open your mouth.

“Well, where are we–” 

“--Get down!” Hands slap on the back of your arm and jerk you to the opposite wall as a loud echo rings out. Whizzing over your head so close that you feel the breeze of it. 

Gasping, the air is expelled from your lungs in one fell swoop; your spine grating over the rough stone as your legs scramble to keep upright. Wiping away the shock quicker than an eraser over a whiteboard, your neck snaps to the problem; brain already hardwired to get over being shot at and the adrenaline that floods your veins immediately after. 

Across the way, Ghost’s fast hand was reaching to the back of his outfit – without a doubt going to grab a concealed weapon. Eyes fiery and arms tight. And as though you were seeing it happen in slow motion, you lock onto the hostile in the middle of the alley back the way you both came. And then onto the hooded silhouette ahead of you. 

Boxed in. 

Hyperfocused, all of it happens in only three seconds, two trained professionals protecting each other without even realizing it. 

One, you realize how this will have to play out if you don’t act immediately. You don’t know how you can trust Ghost to take the other hostile while you focus on the one ahead, but you don’t question it. Two, your gun lays heavy in your hand as your legs pivot. Three, you fire double shots with a loose finger and hear mirrored gunfire from the man beside you. 

You don’t bother watching him drop.

Snapping your head backward with a rageful expression to see Ghost’s corpse hit the floor with a cracking of a skull, shouts start to ring over the city. When you lower your weapon, you turn to notice the Birt examining your own downed hostile with a satisfied stare. If you hadn’t had his back, he would have been shot in it. 

But what you didn’t know was that he was thinking the same thing about you. 

Turning to stare at each other, your widened eyes lock; fingers twitching along the cool X12’s metal as those stormy iris’ only seem to darken further when they dart to your lips. Like staring into a wild animal’s gaze and pretending you’re not in a trance because of it – stuck in that moment of infinity and nothingness with not a single muscle moving. Waiting for either a mouthful of fangs around your supple neck or for the beast to turn away with grace and practiced steps. 

You swore Ghost’s mouth parted under that damned balaclava, but whatever he was going to say was lost when the world came back in a violent storm of screams. Panicking, you gape at the entrance – seeing multiple shadows shoving through the crowd to get to you.

“On me!” Keeping your pistol in one hand, you bolt, hearing heavy footsteps pounding behind you as your mind begins to run.

Ghost trails without a single doubt in his mind as to why he’s following you, and it makes him cautious. 

Catacombs, you decide, get under the city and backtrack to the outskirts. Survey and have Ghost tell me his intel before making a move…yeah! 

“Where are we headin'?!” Ghost shouts, keeping right your heels as you turn corners. Gunshots ring over your heads as you jump up small groupings of tile steps, blood pounding in your ears. You try to remember the maps you had stored in your files underground. Left…no, two rights. Shit! I need to be higher – see the streets like a bird would! “Reaper?!”

“Do you trust me?!” You call over your shoulder, and though it seems deranged, a smile forms over your lips. “I’ll need an answer in the next few minutes, yeah? I’m on a time crunch!” 

“What are you on, Girl?” The adrenaline speaks to you, propelling your legs faster and faster. You vault over a fallen trash bin and take the shock to your ankles as it travels to your thighs. Snickering, you feel the brooding man’s presence like you always could – just beside you like a loyal hound. His focus excites you as you put your gun away in the small of your back. “Bloody hell! Not giving me a choice?”

“Not if you don’t want to get shot in the ass!” Taking one more right, you find yourself rapidly approaching a dead end, tall walls, a balcony, and a large dumpster – the flap already closed overtop. Not answering the man as he barks out a comment, you throw yourself atop it with a puff of breath and spasming lungs. 

Laughing, your hands don’t falter. Reaching up with eager fingers, you grab at the black metal front of the balcony a small distance above and suck down a hot breath. Your arms strain, sickly sweet sweat on the top of your lip, and eyes wide with glee despite the gaining footfalls rising like a battlefield cry. Jerking your body up with only your upper-body strength, you slide your abdomen over the railing with barely a second passing. Once your feet are firmly on someone's property, you twist around and slap your hands to the metal with a twinkle in your vision; face wrinkled with all the animated amusement. 

A wide grin is stuck on you.

Ghost stares up with slightly widened eyes from the ground, arms poised on the garbage bin.

Oh, hell, when she smiles like that…

“But I can’t judge, can I?” Teasing, you extend a helping grip with a smirk. “Everyone has their fetishes, hm, Ghost? Maybe yours is just having a gun pointed at you.” 

He blinks at that, but knowing the urgency in the back of your throat, he pushes himself up with a grunt. You try not to watch his muscles strain, but spy the way the veins in his forearms grow larger as his alluring hips flex. They situate themselves under him as he crunches before straightening in an instant. 

Fuck, don’t drool, you scold, lips lightly parted like seven devils were flying in the back of your mind. Jesus, imagine the weight those things can carry…shit. Wouldn’t mind losing my virginity to that. 

A leather-coated hand slaps into your awaiting one. You snap back to a screaming reality and stare down into hypnotic sheens of ice and…wait…did Ghost have fucking green flecks near his pupils?

“You sure it isn’t yours, Sunshine?” He harshly comments, and his balaclava moves with a rising of his eyebrow. 

Clearing your throat, you murmur a weak reply as your face begins to feel like a blazing fire, squeezing his limb before pulling. He chuffs. Grunting violently, you know he does most of the work in helping himself up, though the Brit still slaps your shoulder in comradery when he’s stable. Kneeling down, he forces himself into the wall behind the two of you, fingers weaving to create a cuff over his knee. 

Tossing his head up, he motions with urgency.  

“C’mon. Be quick ‘bout it.”

Catching one foot in the basin of his clutch, you force down your illicit thoughts about Ghost and jump, pushing off with your opposite leg on his shoulder and his added boost. Scaling the wall, you arch and scramble - with a growing bite in your side – to the terracotta-shingle roof.

Following after and checking your six, the beast of a man joins just in time. 

Shadows dart around the corner far on the ground, and the both of you are speeding animals over the rooftops in the meantime. Against better judgment, boots pounding the tiles, you release loud bouts of genuine laughter. 

How long had it been since you’d had such fun? Enjoyed someone else's company like this? Running across homes, you look at your side, only to find Ghost’s eyes already digging into you. Unrelenting. Unmovable. Panting, you smile brightly, giggles making your sides hurt something awful but your pace doesn't slow for an instant. 

All it took was a glance at the streets – you know where you are now. 

“Enjoying yourself, Reaper?” He asks, arms pumping and barely winded, and you wonder for a moment how he breathes under that covering of his – it had to smell horrible by the end of the day.

“For…the first time in ages, Ghost.” He chuckles at that, and it is a betrayal of his nature. How could someone so violent, so cloaked in oceans of blood, produce such a soft sound? A genuine sound that makes your stomach flip? 

His bewitched eyes rove back in front of him, and he can’t deny the simplicity of speaking to you. It wasn’t a chore, just a conversation with a person who he wouldn’t mind having on 141 at his side. 

There were few people worthy of that.

You swallow thickly and take point, leading the shadow of death to your home underground so you can re-evaluate. 

You can only wonder why you don’t feel nervous as he watches over you, skin marked with horrors but his hand had fit so well in your own. And you also wonder how you can come to care for someone you haven’t seen in ages so quickly, as if you’d both been around each other for years. 

Had you really ever forgotten him? Or just tried to push the affection, both emotional and physical, for him out? But that was the problem, you tell yourself with a clenched jaw, that physical attraction. All of that was just…tied into a million knots. Complicated. 

You’d never had sex before.

And, Ghost questioned himself as he watched your legs move, did he forget you out of necessity? Because those eyes of yours won’t leave him alone, and he so very much enjoyed looming over you.

He sighs heavily and follows in silence.

—

When you first joined them, they all created rumors. This was long before you were permitted solo Ops, long before half of your file was filled and bleeding with black ink that would shame a warlord. When everyone just thought you were signed up because you were some unhinged kid, brimming with unchecked problems and willing to throw everything away just for the chance to prove yourself. Who got into it for kicks. 

They would say you enjoyed it, killing. Reveled in it, really. That it got you off when you were covered in blood and crimson guts as they pooled at your feet. 

You suppose that was what turned you away from sex in general – those heavy comments said with no remorse that stuck with you. It was fear almost, a genuine twisting of your mind to make it your fault. It wasn’t your fault, you knew that; you could sleep with anyone you wanted and the comments weren’t a brand on your skin.

You could forget about it. You should. 

But the words were so mean. Just cruel for the sense of being cruel. And it stuck with you.

If that was all anyone would see, why try and force them to look away? You kept to yourself, never spoke unless spoken to, and shoved all of it down like a kill switch. No sex, no relationships. Nothing to make you think about the rumors. 

Getting off on death? You were horrified at the concept, horrified that people would play around like that with you – with your life!

You just ended up telling yourself you wouldn’t feel it until it hurt too bad. In a way, you were right…but you can only force emotions down for a while until they break forward like a fist to the mouth. 

Besides Mutt, they had many names for you – titles and backhanded monikers. Rabid. Demon. Devil. Monster. Sometimes, beast.

But they all had the same meaning. Inhuman. Wrong. 

It shouldn’t have bothered you that much. It…It shouldn’t have made you stay up at night still thinking about the way they would laugh and pinch your arms as you were left shaking; drowning in gore not your own because they sent you into the heart of the Hot Zone for a few jokes. Teasing you about how you probably touched yourself because of it.

But it was just an excuse to make you too scared to leave. Your reputation…

“There’s that Devil for ya’, always ready to slit some more throats for us. You think you could do the next few, Mutt? You’ll love it, I know you will. I’ll give you a good report if you do it without alerting the guards – see there… ‘Course you will. Fucking freak.”

Your eyes stare forward blankly, Dirk leaving a dotted fluid trail over the dusty ground.

Why did they do this to you? 

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[cool-island-songs]

Mizisua & Ivantill Photocards

[crosspost from twitter; pics were from Mercari originally so no link.. evil prices smh]

Really is remarkable that Mizisua's cards look like a perfectly normal romance if you ignore the crack in Sua's neck that she tries to conceal (just as she knew one of them would have to die and kept that reality from the far more innocent Mizi), Mizi's tears, and her breaking apart.

Then Ivantill look deathly ill, eyes rolling back, Till stripped of color and blood while Ivan is full of it. Ivan tries to hold himself together and Till clutches his head as if in pain. My first thought is the mental unwellness of Urak's charges. It's mentioned that they always go far in Alien Stage, but have never won due to instability from his abuse.

Many have already pointed out that the crack in Till's face is in the same spot where Ivan once touched his cut, but he doesn't just touch it—he licks it up. Unable to connect to him normally, Ivan consumes him, wishes to be consumed by him in return, but he never divulges his true feelings to till, not 'til the very end. Here, he's bottled it all up to the point of bursting. He has to focus all his remaining energy on holding himself in one piece while Till is fully drained, left empty, pallid like a porcelain doll.

Both left-behind parties are crying with their faces cracked, visibly broken by their loss. The deceased parties sweat and try to keep it together but it's only a matter of time. Their fates are already sealed.

Genuinely love these cards so much, the love and the pain and the failures to communicate in both dynamics on full display. I want a set badly and am wondering if they'll drop the merch online after R7 for hype purposes, though it seemed like the NYCC thing was last minute and merch stock was limited so it may be difficult to get.

[maybecoffeemixed]

MAIN PLOT LINE OF DLC HAS BEEN FINISHED, SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT (long post, be warned)

7.8/10, kieran doesn't actually kill us.

Seriously though, I enjoyed it!! Since I don't actually own the game (we poor), I watched a no-commentary playthrough so there are plenty of things I very likely missed, including optional dialog, side-quests, and whatever that thing with the professors is (still lookin' for a video without some guy over it), so I can only comment on the bits I saw! That being said, here we go.

First of all, the BATTLES!! Despite not being able to play them myself, they looked SUPER fun!! I screamed when I saw Lacey's tailwind/lightscreen prankster whimsicott, and even MORE so when I saw it was sashed! I loved the usage of competitive items, and the fact that all their teams weren't completely mono-type, each having one exception to their type (Lacey's excadrill, Crispin's Exeggcutor, Amarys's Reuniclus, and Drayton's Sceptile) that they DIDN'T terrastalize was lovely touch!! Amarys's fight was super hype in particular, despite having an over 20 level advantage, the person I watched still nearly wiped to her! Her trick room AI does appear a bit goofy, but it's a small flaw. Finally, Kieran's battle... I personally adore a good rain team, but unfortunately Kieran's politoed was frozen at the start of the battle, and remained that way all the way til the end, so I can't honestly say how difficult it looked. The one thing I will say is that before the indigo disk was out, I created a hypothetical team for Kieran, and I CALLED that Grimmsnarl!! Literally even the focus sash. If anyone's curious, here was the hypothetical team I made. I'm a nuzlocker, not a competitive player, so it very well may be shit. Apologies in advance.

Next is the characters!! Every design slapped as always, and I enjoyed their personalities! Lacey was adorbs, Crispin was fun, and Amarys might just be one of my new favorites! As for Drayton? Let me tell you, I was side-eyeing him the whole time the MOMENT after he said THIS to Kieran.

After all the hype around dokutaro/peechikeen (now know as pecharunt, apparently), and all the speculation that Kieran would fall victim to its influence, him saying "that's just peachy" made my rat brain go into overdrive. In the end, I think it was just Legends Arceus giving me Volo flashbacks.

Now, the main event... KIERAN! Let me tell you, he gave me GOOSEBUMPS. Every time he appeared, I could feel a chill run up my spine, and his battle had my heart RACING. ESPECIALLY his breakdown at the end of it! One of the best times I've had in a good while. The animation, his reaction, all of it was GREAT!! It was so refreshing to see him not immediately heel-face turn.

Unfortunately, though, what happened after that all disappointed me. I admit I got too attached to the Dokutaro Posession theory, buy it was still disappointing for Dokutaro (I know that's not its name, leave me be) to not play any role in the main story. It felt like a natural conclusion to what the game was setting up, I thought he'd throw the master ball at terapagos, it'd fail, and he'd become so overwhelmed with everything that has happened that he'd succumb to Dokutaro's control and we'd have to fight the Dokutaro-Kieran with Terapagos's aid. That's not what happened, and I felt a bit sad. His recovery from his breakdown was still set up nicely and had some atleast sufficient justification, but it still felt like too-little too-soon. It felt more like he just gave up all together rather than defeated his demons. He'd never be as strong as the player, and that's that, which is a sour note to leave off on.

We see that he legitimately has nothing. All the other students left the MOMENT he was defeated. No one came to help the kid who was clearly having a panic attack. The BB league cares about him, sure, but I wouldn't consider them his friends. They all thought Kieran getting defeated would "fix" him, and even when he clearly wasn't any better after being defeated, they didn't do anything to assist him. Sure, sometimes when someone has climbed so high, you gotta let them fall, but once they do, you can't just leave them lying on the ground. You need to be there to lift them back up before they start digging.

This isn't an attack on the BB league at ALL. Like I said, I really enjoyed their characters! In fact, this reaction is part of the reason I like them so much. It adds depth.

I just wish that Kieran DID start digging, and that it led to something bigger. Even if Dokutaro wasn't involved, I atleast wanted the final battle with him to be that big thing, and not just a turtle that can't do anything but throw out weak earthpowers.

Though the biggest failing to me is that Kieran apologizes to us, but we don't apologize to him. We as in the player, and Carmine

Kieran's actions are his own and I'm not saying he shouldn't have apologized, but he wasn't solely culpable for how things turned out. We and Carmine purposefully lied, kept a secret that was dear to him, and were the straw that broke the camel's back. Even if we the player didn't apologize, Carmine should've!! Her treatment of Kieran heavily impacted him, and he mirrored her abuse (Kieran telling Carmine to "Shut it", just like she did to him, for example).

Everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, was in the wrong here. Kieran took things too far, Carmine behavior is a serious problem, and the played character was complicit.

I'm not demonizing anyone here, I am the number one Carmine defender after all, but everyone needs to take responsibility. Not. Just. Kieran.

I relate heavily to both Kitakami siblings, as both an elder sister with younger siblings who she's accidentally mistreated, and as a little sister with an older sibling who treats me like I'm lesser.

I've lashed out at my older sibling, and while my reaction wasn't proportional, it doesn't mean my emotions weren't justified.

I have severe genetic anger issues (that I'm now thankfully medicated for), and have unjustly taken them out on my younger siblings.

Carmine needs to apologize too, or the cycle will just continue. Maybe she already did and I missed it, or maybe it happens in the post-game. However, if she didn't? It makes me feel unresolved.

Anyways, that all I gotta say on it!! Hope someone enjoyed this overly long rambling!!

(P.S. I still don't trust dragon boy. "Thats just peachy" my ASS, you know something ya toothpaste haired cunt. Why did they request to bring ya along to area zero anyways, ya plot relevant FUCK.)

[landhoe-norris]

"carlos did the bare minimum of what he was hired to do, nothing more nothing less"

i've seen this take a lot today, in many different forms, all of them hyping up charles while doing their utmost to trash talk carlos.

no one is denying that carlos was hired to score points and podiums. that's the name of the game. (almost) everyone on that grid is hired because the people in charge believe that they can bring their teams some kind of glory.

but what this race (and the other three races he's managed to partake in) highlights is more than just his ability to "do the bare minimum."

time and time again we have seen his ability to overtake and defend, that's not something anyone can argue. but some of y'all still try your hardest 'til you're blue in the face.

there seems to be a consensus for a lot of people, especially those who support his teammate, support the current world champion or support the driver who will take his seat next year, to talk down every single thing carlos does. when he does his own strategy, he's a bad team player, when he follows strategy, he is being favoured by the team. when he's the faster ferrari driver, it's only because there's a problem with charles' car, but when charles is faster, it's because he's better.

two things can be true at once, and those two things are: carlos and charles are both excellent drivers.

they both have their talents, but i'm here to talk about carlos' talents.

his race strategy is, very often, unmatched. there is a reason he's called a strategist, and it's because he is incredibly smart but also very insightful and can calculate what's best for himself while driving an f1 car at top speed. not everyone can do that, and that's fine. other drivers have other talents.

but it's so integral to realise that his contributions extend beyond the cockpit. his teamwork, communication with engineers, and feedback have contributed significantly to ferrari's car development and team strategy, enhancing ferrari's competitive edge. the fact that people at maranello didn't know what to do with him in his first year cause he was always around, looking, learning and contributing says a lot about him.

his resilience in high-pressure situations, his adaptability to changing race conditions, and his determination to maximise every opportunity on the track make it clear that reducing his contributions to merely doing the "bare minimum" doesn't do justice to his capabilities or achievements. the weirdest part of this for me is that people seem to resent him for knowing his worth. they dislike him because he knows his talent, and knows his strengths, and isn't afraid to stand up for himself.

for the past month or so people have been talking a lot of shit; from saying that bearman should get the seat for the rest of the season to calling his win after abdominal surgery a fluke, his podium in bahrain being ridiculed because his teammate had brake problems and therefore "he never would've been on the podium if charles' car hadn't failed him" and now people are saying his p3 in japan means nothing.

there have been severe accusations thrown at carlos and his father, and i would even go as far as call them libel. these people who have spread false information and made up ridiculous rumours are lucky they're nobodies either on here, reddit or twitter, otherwise they could be in a lot of shit.

i could genuinely go on forever about this, but i won't. just know that carlos sainz jr is an amazing driver who deserves to have a team that not only fully appreciates him, but also is able to give him what he deserves.

ferrari is not, and never has been, that team. and i hope that the fans of the team that he will end up with, will appreciate everything about him and not resent him for wanting to be the driver that he knows he can be ❤️

[herefortheships]

My thoughts on Venom 3.

It's been a long time coming! I'm pausing my Beetlejuicy blogging tonight to talk a little bit about Venom. If you didn't know, back when Venom 2 was released, and a little bit before then, I was absolutely obsessed with Venom. More specifically, I was totally obsessed with Symbrock. (Although my love for the character of Venom has been with me since I was around 13 or 14 years old, back in the early 2000s.) So for a while, I think between 2021 and 2022, this blog was almost entirely dedicated to Symbrock (and Destiel, that one is always here). That's the reason why my blog title was originally "My Fandom and Random Blog": I hyper-fixate on whatever piece of media blows my mind. And for a good chunk of time, that was Symbrock, so I'm writing this little intro to this post because my blog is currently, predominantly, a Beetlejuice (Beetlebabes) blog. And it will continue to be for the foreseeable future.

But tonight, we go back to my previous hyper-fixation.

I have a lot of feelings about Venom 3. This post will focus on the Eddie x Venom relationship, as that's what I am most invested in. Warning: There are spoilers here.

My fresh-out-of-the-movie feeling is that I loved it, but a few things made me go "hmm..." Starting with the marketing for this movie.

I would not have expected much in the Veddie shipping department if it wasn't for the marketing. It's a superhero action movie and I know what kind of world we currently live in (plus this world isn't reading for a monsterfucker leading character like our beloved monsterfucker king Eddie Brock lol). But I noticed that a good effort was put into highlighting their relationship, not just as a friendship, but as a romance, in the marketing for this movie. There were TikTok edits and Instagram posts showing them as a romance, and the phrase "We ship Eddie and Venom" was also used (here's the Instagram post, if you don't believe me lol). What I'm getting at is that the ship was used to hype the movie. So, what was I supposed to expect? Look, there was a lot of lovely subtext between Eddie and Venom, which I loved, but it wasn't any more obvious than what we got in LTBC (in fact, maybe it was even less evident? I'll get to that in a second). So it doesn't really justify all this effort to hype up their relationship.

So, when they amped up the shipping as they marketed a movie with the slogan "'Til death do they part" (which I should mention had scenes in Vegas, notorious place for odd weddings, hello), a lot of fans (myself included) thought that something was going to happen in Vegas, if you know what I mean. Or that at least the subtext would be even more obvious. Some fans even expected another Veddie kiss scene (my expectations were more reserved, but after all that marketing I would not have been surprised to see a kiss, tbh).

I never expected to get anything overt in Venom with Symbrock, but this being the final film in the trilogy, the previous movie ending with the two of them on the run, the release of that deleted scene in which Venom is teasing Eddie about Eddie being in love with him, plus all this gay marketing? I started to expect we'd get something a little more evident, and only that is what made me feel disappointed we didn't get more. I'm sure I'd be more excited and happy with all the subtext we got in this one if it wasn't for the expectations created by the marketing, ngl.

I did cry in the scene where they were with the hippie family and Venom was talking to Eddie at night about how they'd been happier with a different kind of life. But I think I only cried because I had been spoiled about the ending. Knowing they would be separated in the end, that Venom would die, made that scene a lot more emotional and tragic, because Eddie and Venom will not have a chance at that happy and peaceful life.

And now that I brought up Venom's death, I have to say this: I really wish we could have had a couple more minutes with Eddie on that bed reflecting about his loss at the end. In the comics, whenever they are separated, usually Eddie is losing his mind, either desperate to reconnect with the symbiote, almost like an addict who's been cut off cold from his addiction (like in my favorite "The Hunger", 1996), or out of his mind in grief, feeling the symbiote still there like a phantom limb (...pretty sure this was in Donny Cates' 2018 run, but correct me if I'm wrong). What I'm getting at is that separating from the symbiote has never been easy on Eddie Brock. But, due to the constraints of movie play time I guess, he got over it seemingly very easily. Also, just an observation, the trailer featured a different take for that scene, in which Eddie says "but I need him", instead of "but I need him back". Both takes were very emotional and Tom's acting was superb, but the scene is too short. I feel like we needed a couple more minutes of mourning. Or if not minutes, then a couple of seconds of Eddie sobbing on that bed, or, I don't know, trying to get up and finding his way back to where he last saw Venom... Something more dramatic like that, is what I mean.

Eddie appeared to be more fond of Venom by the end of LTBC. Especially with comments he made earlier in this film about Venom stealing his life and being (understandably) cranky, I would have expected more grief and even regret from Eddie after losing Venom presumably forever.

About the after credit scene... I'm not sure what I'm supposed to make of it. I mean the cockroach one. One could think one of the symbiotes survived and took over the roach (hopefully Venom), but there was no indication of it; one could only assume the cockroach has a symbiote because, why even show it? Right? Now, about the Knull ending scene, was he breaking the 4th wall and telling us, the audience, that he would make us watch? Or did he say that to someone else? If there was another Venom movie or appearance after this, then I could come to the conclusion that Venom was successfully captured and taken to Klyntar, but being separated from Eddie he cannot operate as the codex anymore. <- That last bit is my own interpretation, though, and should be taken with a grain of salt.

I'm going to leave this post here. I'll write more if I feel like I have more to say (which, maybe I do, because I always do lol), but this is it for now. It was a good movie and I did like it. I do have my criticisms, but overall, they did a pretty good job and I will miss this Eddie and Venom symbiote very much. I hope we can see them again.

One note I want to leave this post with is that I'm pretty sure both Eddie Brock and the symbiote have died more than once in the comics (the most recent Eddie death was this year, btw. I'm not buying that it's permanent because in the comicverse characters die and come back all the time), but one thing will always be consistent with these two, and that is, they will always find a way back to each other. Always 🖤. So don't be sad; Venom is only gone for now.

[trialnumbergamma]

some more old art I made that I never posted, they were gonna go with like an official twst oc introduction but I never pulled the trigger even though I've already posted stuff for him? I think I was embarrassed or something XD I dont care now so here's eli there's old lore about him under the cut if you're interested I use him cross fandom but his personality is pretty consistent

oh I think ace's bday is around the time i've scheduled this so happy birthday bitch 🎉

these have been in my draft for like two years

He’s mexican american so he def feels out of place in what’s basically fantasy brittan

He’s pretty excitable but he’s pretty shy so the majority of people think he’s quiet while aduce get treated to the info dumping /exited reactions

Deuces dedicated hype man

Aces magic trick Guinea pig

He’s a human garbage can so he grades pretty easy in master chef unless it’s mexican cus it’d be an insult to the ancestors

He didn’t really know how to deep clean before moving into ramshackle so that was a learning curve

He’s not super skilled at cooking but he leans fast

He treats grim like an annoying little cousin he was left in charge of but absolutely adores him

He lost it ch 6

Eli never really had close friends before so he didn’t take his friendship with aduce seriously til the end of ch 4 cus he couldn’t fathom why they’d travel all the way to the school if they didn’t care about him so ch 5 onwards hes super protective of them

It takes him a little longer to warm up to the rest of the first years but he’s really happy to be in a friend group

ram is the dedicated sleepover spot which results in 3 am shenanigans around campus

no the well has always had a broken roof idk what you're talking about

he relies heavily on other people’s reactions to know how an interaction is going so inexpressive people high key scare him

He has no idea what’s going on but he likes potions class the most

Like said before he’s really bad at taking photos

Cater tried teaching him but gave up at 3 quarters rule and basic lighting

Tried using rooks bow once but couldn’t cus rooks bow has like a 80 draw strength and elis only done like 25

really bad texter like use more then one word responses please kalim thinks you hate him

[aachria]

once again writing as im reading yk how it is

You apologizing in the notes for a longer chapter will never fail toget me hyped and sorta nervous 🧍‍♀️

SABO AND LUFFY REUNION I LOVE THEM

"So did you (get taller) , thank you for staying alive long enough for me to know that" aachria the writer that you are 😭 you always manage to make me emotional

Snakebite/fangs sabo my beloved ALSO SEPTUM PIERCING SABO??? HIM HAVING A SHIT TOM OF PIERCINGS??? AACHRIAAAAA. WRITE MORE SABO CHAPTERS AND MY LIFE IS YOURS.

"…Who the fuck picks a prosethetic that looks like Sans from Undertale???? " Sabo the man you are

AACHRIA. PLEASE. IM AT THE "ACE TO BE EXECUTED" PART. WTF. WHAT WHAT WHAT 😭 UHM. I knew my ass was being too hopeful about both of them being there 😕 i shouldn't have trusted you.

If Ace dies. I'll cry. /th. You'll cry too so please don't kill him 🙏‼️

NOOOO ED DONT BLAME YOURSELF ITS NOT UR FAULT YOU WERE LIKE ⅘S DEAD ATP FR

THE VIVRE CARD OMG AACHRIA PL3ASE HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO US HOW COULD YOU 😭😭

"I can’t save him. I can’t save him, I can’t save him I CAN’T SAVE HIM I CAN’T SAVE HIM— " ricky when i catch you Ricky. I dont wanna call this foreshadowing cause that might give you ideas and i predicted quite a bit of stiff right. So i predict Portgas D. Ace will Live.

MONKEY D. LUFFY THE MAN YOU ARE 😭

I want you to know i cried at the Luffy comforting and forgiving Ed part 😕

" “How can you say that?” I croak, trying to find any hint of dissension in his expression. “How can you not believe it?” he counters." 😕😕😕😕😭😭😭😭 you're a bully

ED COWBOY HAT ED COWBOY HAT ED COWBOY HAT OMG IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS BUT IT WOULDVE BEEN BETTER HAD ACE BEEN THE ONE TO GIVE IT TO THEM IN PERSON ANOTHER REMINDER THAT YOU'RE A BULLY. A MEAN MEAN BULLY 😭

ACES NOTE OMG I LOVE HIM SM HE BETTER NOT DIE 😭

" Bit of a shit way to meet and in law but hi" and then no elaboration is so funny 😭

PLANNING FUCK YEAH I ALWAYS LOVE THISE SEQUENCES IN FICS

Did. Did failure make ed forget about the kuma sending everyone away thing? Or are they gonna try to put it off til after marineford??? Or is it just not gonna happen at all???

Ed repeatedly saying "i love competent people" with kore and more intensity 3ach time is so real what a mood

Jonah mentioned 🤭 love to see sabo and ace bonding

ED AND LUFFY PRISON BREAK ED AND LUFFY PRISON BREAK ED AND LUFFY PRISON BREAK ED AND LUFFY PRISON BREAK

"Unquestionably" 🤭🤭🤭

im still worried abt wtf is gonna happen a propos the strawhats separation

Amazing chapter as always excited to see the next chapter that you might post on Wednesday THANK YOU SO MUCH ‼️

GUYS I PROMIE I'M NOT APOLOGIZING I'M MAKING A STATEMENT BECAUSE I'M A BIG CONSISTENCY GIRLIE AND I FIGURE YOU'D LIKE TO KNOW GOING IN THAT IT'LL BE LONGER THAN YOU'D TYPICALLY THINK. LIKE IF YOU THINK YOU CAN READ A CHAPTER BEFORE GOING SOMEWHERE AND DON'T GET TO FINISH BECAUSE IT'S LONGER THAN YOU EXPECED. I DON'T KNOW.

but yeah getting you hyped and nervous is pretty much the intended effect.

I was trying real hard to keep faithful to the feelings from the canon Sabo and Luffy reunion while also not having Ace being DEAD as the driving force of the thanks (the ASL brothers thanking each other is something that can be so personal—) and I'm, if nothing else, content with where it ended up. Fuckin' love those two.

Nothing shows how much you love a character like giving them fucktons of piercings and just generally disregarding their canon design. He is my special little guy and I will make him strange and weird like he deserves and if that included stealing his fucking eye and making it more awesome and also poking a myriad of holes in his face, who's to stop me?

I am terribly trustworthy excuse you. I never said I wasn't going to do terrible things. I asked if you thought I'd do terrible things and I hoped I wouldn't do terrible things, but I never made any promises. Hheh.

I also make no promises not to kill Ace. For the record. But I will cry absolutely.

If there's one thing about Ed, it's that if they're given a chance they will martyr the SHIT out of ANYTHING. Like pookie please your saviour complex is showing.

I was so ready for someone to call out the recurring smoked fish joke like 'hmmmm smoked fish you say kinda of like SMOKE from something BURNING IS IT?!" and then that didn't happen and I felt vindicated. And please when have I ever used foreshadowing before. Doesn't sound like me at all.

Luffy is my hero you GO bestie COMFORT that idiot YEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH—

Look that cowboy hat is fantastic and my catalyst for cowboy Ed, who can only get more cowboy cunty from here. Nothing say pirate quite like a cowboy.

Oh yeah baby Ed is very aware of Kuma. There's a bunch of you shits who were real concerned about them forgetting and to that I say the first little sequence of next chapter was supposed to be on the end of last chapter, but it was already too damn long so I had to split 'er up. It'll make more sense when you read it.

I LOVE COMPOTENT PEOPLE ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️ ED AND LUFFY PRISON BREAK ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

Yeah.... the separation.........

Anyway yeah I didn't end up doing to Wed update because I had a bad week but there WILL be one this week ‼️‼️

[milkycarnations]

Sneak Peek at my WIP

I mentioned before that I'm working on a Ren Hana x reader short fic. I've been working hard on it and it's already about 10k words. Since I'm nowhere near done yet, I wanted to show a little sneak peek to garner some hype for it and also encourage myself if people end up really liking it. This is only about 1.5k words of it so far and is only part of the exposition. I encourage everyone to share their concrit and tell me what they think! Divider by @cafekitsune

Over the past few days, you’d been feeling feverish. Ren tried to nurse you back to health, feeding you an assortment of medicines and soups in an attempt to make you better, but the flu you’d caught wasn’t letting up. Tonight was your night to cook dinner and you’d already felt bad enough for making Ren cover for you the last two nights. As your fever began to dissipate, you promised Ren you’d get back on track. He had enough chores to do as is and lately, he’d been doing double since you fell ill. Even with your promise, the sickly exhaustion stuck around like a fog. 

You'd dragged yourself around the house all day, mulling around while you worked and cleaned. The laundry needed folding, the floors needed to be mopped, and the bathtubs were long overdue to be scrubbed down. You pushed through it, sniffling and coughing as you went. By the time noon came around, you were miserable. Falling onto the couch, you sighed as you were absorbed into the cushions. A nap couldn't hurt. Before you could think it over, you passed out.

By miracle, you shot awake hours later. You were coated in a thick sheen of sweat, mostly due to the fever, but now partly in fear. Oh god, Strade was going to fucking kill you. It was ten minutes til six. He would never settle for something quick and lazy, so an easy bowl of macaroni and cheese wouldn’t cut it. Panicked, you scoured over the pantry, trying to figure something out. 

Could Ren get him drunk? If he was wasted off of his ass, Strade would look it over and spare you some of the pain, but ten minutes wouldn’t be enough. Tears brimmed in your eyes but you blinked them back, needing to see inside the fridge. It would take a shit ton of alcohol for him to forget it. You were fucked. 

Pulling out miscellaneous veggies and potatoes, you quickly started a broth. It took everything within you to stop yourself from vomiting across the counter. It wasn’t going to work, you knew better. The potatoes wouldn’t cook in time. The stew wouldn’t have any meat - which Strade would hate - but you didn’t have the time to thaw and brown the beef in a skillet. It wasn’t like it would be very flavorful either, given you had ten minutes.  

Strade was expecting salmon tonight, you remembered. You were so stupid. Why did you have to tell him? 

Cranking on the front burner, you turned the heat on high and chopped a carrot with lightning speed. There was no other choice, you’d have to ditch the potatoes, too. Strade would be just as unhappy if he bit into a raw potato. 

You chucked the diced carrot into the broth, which had only just begun to simmer, and began cutting the celery before stopping to toss in a few handfuls of pasta noodles. By chance, you had managed to avoid cutting yourself as you sliced the celery into uneven chunks. You checked the time. Five till. Fuck - how had you wasted five minutes already? The noodles wouldn’t be done. The carrots won’t be tender. 

After nearly mauling your fingers with the knife, you scream out for Ren. The celery plopped into the pot, splashing droplets of hot water against your arms. Then, the sound of footsteps behind you. 

“Ren, please I need-” you pivoted. It was Strade. 

A gasp was forced from your chest. The water in the pot rumbled as it began to roll. Curious, Strade picked up the small paring knife and twisted it in his fingers. A devilish grin was splayed across his face. 

“Almost done?” he asked. 

Glancing behind yourself, you found yourself unable to lie, but also unable to tell the truth. You stood there with nothing else to say. Strade drew in a heavy inhale. 

“Doesn’t smell like salmon at all, Häschen.” Strade stalked his way to you, peering over your shoulder at the stew, “Changed your mind?” 

Again, you were speechless. He chuckled, grabbing your face in his hands. 

“What a shame. I was looking forward to that side dish you make - those garlic chili green beans and mashed potatoes, maybe?” Those eyes peered into you as he squished your cheeks. He was expecting something. 

“I’m sorry, Strade.” you tried not to make eye contact. 

“Sorry about what, buddy?” he tutted. 

Choosing to stay quiet, tears continued to stream down your face. Grinning, Strade answered for you. 

“You’re apologizing for lying and wasting my time?” Tone fluctuating, you sensed that this was a rhetorical question. He gestured towards the pot on the stove, "It looks like you didn't even try."

“I’m really sorry-” you choked out, sobbing. You were unable to hold the flood of emotions back. You had already felt like absolute shit and now Strade was going to hurt you for it. It was likely that he'd drag you down to the basement, and you swore to yourself that you'd never go down there as a victim ever again. Leaning forward, he licked the tears from your cheek, teeth grazing against the skin. He pulled off with a wet kiss. 

“And what about it, Häschen? What should I do with you?” his hum rattled your bones. 

“It was an accident!” you raised your tone but spoke softly in his presence. Screaming at him would only make things worse. 

“An accident?” he pushed you back onto the counter beside the oven. The heat from the gas range made your skin itch, “A dog pissing on the floor is an accident, but that still requires punishment and training. You shock it with a collar or shove its face into its mess until it learns better. But you’re already trained, buddy. You know better. You know what that means, don't you?”

The blade of the knife glimmered in the bright lights of the kitchen as Strade pressed it against your face. The panic was swarming you. 

“Strade, puh-lease!” you begged, but couldn’t get out anything else. You were hyperventilating. It wasn’t fair! You knew better, but the only reason you’d slept in was because you were sick! On a normal day, this would’ve never happened. 

Strade launched into you and brought the struggle to the floor. As you fell, your back scraped against the cabinet. It was too much: the weight of him straddling you, the headache, the fear. In your fragile state, distress swarmed you. A gut-wrenching shriek was ripped from your lungs before you’d even realized it had happened. Strade had reared back, thrusting the blade towards your eye. Splaying your fingers, you reached out and gripped the blade of the knife with both hands. The knife sliced your palms and fingers, but it was the only thing stopping him. His face and neck flamed red, and his smile was drunk with adrenaline. He was practically drooling over you at your resistance. Instead of letting up, he pushed harder, the blade centimeters from your eye. Nothing could be more hilarious to him than your display - he was cackling. 

Fear was a dangerous thing. Unable to control yourself, you screamed and cried relentlessly, hands shaking as Strade pushed the knife down harder. Blood spilled over your face, making it difficult to attempt to hold him back. Everything was slippery and your throat was already run raw. You heard Ren’s footsteps patter into the kitchen. His typical skittish behavior dissipated in an instant at the sight of the two of you. 

Throughout your captivity, there were many instances in which you feared Strade would snap and kill you. Before, there was always a slimmer of hope, knowing that he wanted you around. At the end of the day, he had kept you, after all. This was different. You could see it in his eyes. If you let go, Strade was going to kill you. 

“Strade!” Ren cried out, worry evident. He neared close but didn’t touch. “Strade, please it’s not that serious! It was an accident, come on.” 

You knew better. Ren would be punished too if he intervened, but you couldn’t stop yourself from pleading for your life. Something about the thickness in the air had you worried. He was going to do it for real this time. It was over. 

“Ren, make him stop please!” 

The words came out between sobs. Hyperventilating only made the tip of the blade lurch closer and that made you squeal out like a wounded animal. Beside you, Ren continued to urge Strade to let you go, but it was doomed from the start. Pressing his palm against the bottom of the knife, Strade rammed the metal into your eye. It chipped against your skull - the only thing that saved your brain from the damage. The agony was blinding, and your terror multiplied that tenfold. As you wailed, the room burst into a cacophony of noise. It was so deafening, a ringing noise sounded in your ears as Strade twisted the knife and went to pull.

Something had stopped him. 

[xxchaosjojoxx]

I want you to see me [5/5] (Penguin x reader)

After the events on Whole Cake Island,  you rejoined your Crew, the Heart Pirates, with the strawhats. You never interacted with Shachi, Penguin and the rest of your crew due to your shy personality. Suddenly you can interact with them without any problems and are really close to Sanji on top of it. Even so, Penguin isn’t quite fond of you, seeing you and Sanji flirting with each other makes him a little jealous.

A/N: Maybe I rushed it a little at the end, but I was out on ideas ;w;

Chapter 5:  What the hearts wants

After Law lectures you both and made sure you were in fact not hurt, you felt that Penguin was grabbing your hand with a “Follow me.”

You followed him silently til you were inside a cabin they used as a hideout. The handcuffs were pretty tight and your wrists were hurting. He motioned for you to just sit in the chair at the corner. He was kneeling before you, holding your hands gently in his palm while nursing your wounds.

You gulped before you decided to talk. “Thanks for trying to protect me.” He just shrugged. “Don’t mention it. You did the same for us.” He avoided you gazing at him.

“Why is it so important that I see you in another light?” He let go of your hand and was starting to look you in the eyes. With a light blush on your cheeks you avoided his gaze this time. “Well you are important to me.” Penguin sighed. “So are you.”

He stood up and you were admiring his work. “Thanks for nursing me. You did a pretty good job.” You smiled and he returned it with a little laugh. “Hah, thanks. But don’t fall for me, ok?” He was grinning widely while scratching his cheeks. Without using your brain you answered him. “Why not?” The Blush on your face changed its color to dark red and the man in front of you, hid his face while a blush was creeping on his face as well.

His voice was low. “No one…has ever fallen for me.” He was scratching his neck.

“There is someone out there who has fallen for you already.” You didn’t know why the words bubbled out of you all of the sudden. He was looking at you confused. “B-But I thought you like this flirty pervert cook.” You stood up, your fingers were brushing against his. “I do like him, but just as a friend. He helped me to be confident. The truth is…I like you, Penguin.” You stared into his eyes, they looked like the night sky under his hat. “Uhm…” He was totally confused but before he could answer you, you were talking again. “If you’re wondering what I meant by that, just so you know, I meant that romantically. Since the day we first met…”

Penguin was looking between your face and your hands, brushing against his. “Did we meet before you joined us?” You smiled at him. “Did you forget the crush in the library back in my hometown?”

Realization hit him with a loud “OHHH!”. “You were the girl with the glasses that tried to hide. The clumsy one.” You nodded slightly. “You were so sweet to me back then. I mean I was pretty invisible to you. Like for everyone else. I remember your bright smile and your warm hands as you helped me.”

“Wait, you liked me for so long? Then why did you refuse to get to know us?”

You turned your gaze away and began to stutter. “I-I didn’t m-mean to refuse you guys. You were so hyped up, full of energy. So loud and fun…I couldn’t comprehend it. I never had any friends and didn’t know what to do. Didn’t wanna make a fool out of myself like back in the library. I thought it would be safe for me to stay hidden and watch you guys from afar.”

Penguin was remembering every occasion. “Everything makes sense now…You were too shy, talking to me again?” He asked and you answered with a “yes”.

He was kneeling down in defeat. “Now I feel even more bad for disliking you because I thought you hated us.”

You were kneeling in front of him, and patting his shoulders. “I would love to party with you guys next time. If it’s ok with you.”

He nodded with a big grin. “Of course. Shachi and the rest would love to get to know you better, like I do.” With that you get going. As you decide to return to Law, Penguin was tackled by Sanji who was in fact furious. “TELL ME ARE YOU NUTS?!” He screamed and Penguin was slightly afraid of his rage. “H-Huh? Let go of me. What’s wrong with you suddenly?”

Sanji was looking at him like he would kill him easily. “I heard everything. I have to give up receiving the love of my beloved y/n-chan because of you, just for you to NOT answer her?”

Penguin was confused. “An-Answer?” The blonde chef was shaking him. “SHE CONFESSED TO YOU, DUMBASS!”

After that settled you were on your way towards Onigashima. Penguin and you had no time to talk about what happened back there.  Back on the Polar Tang you looked at him. “I will miss your Yukata. It looked good on you.” He was smiling. “The Kimono looked cute on you as well. Hey Y/N.” Penguin took a few steps towards you. “We have some time left before we invade Onigashima. I need to talk with about what happened back -”

“HEY!” Shachi interrupted the both of you. “We have no time left guys.”

You nodded and joined the other crew members. Law prepared to shamble Bepo, Shachi, penguin and himself inside the castle. You stayed back with the rest. Before Law could see his devil fruit power you interrupted them with a “Wait up please.” Everyone was looking at you as you ran towards Penguin and hugging him tight. You were close to his eyes to whisper some words. “Please stay safe and come back to us ok?” Without waiting for an answer you gave him a kiss. On instinct he was holding you closer to him. Deepening the kiss. With “Ohh’s” you realized that your whole crew and even the other Samurais were watching this show that happened before their eyes. You pulled away. “Let’s talk after the fight is over.”

The four of them were replaced by rocks. Now you just had to wait for them to return.

After the defeat of Big Mom you and the rest joined your Captain and the other 3 members. After you congratulated them and made sure, their wounds weren't critical, you were looking for Penguin.

As soon as you spotted him you were running towards him, jumping into his arms, while crying. “I’m so glad you are ok.” Penguin petted your head. “You were worried about me?” He asked jokingly.

“Of course I was. I knew you could handle it and that you were reliable in combat but I was still afraid.” You let go of him and distant yourself while turning away from him. “Sorry I didn’t respect your boundaries back there.”

Your red haired crewmate, Shachi, joined the both of you laughing. “Dude, my man got himself a girlfriend.” Shachi snickered. The other members of the heart pirates were looking at you while joining him. You and Penguin were blushing and stuttering. “We are not a couple, Shachi.”

Shachi was looking at him with an unpleasant face. “You were kissing earlier and she confessed to you. Man up and make her yours officially.”

Penguin held your hand, drawing little circles on the back of your hands. Your crewmates were booing, like back on Zou, as your Captain Law didn’t introduce you properly towards the strawhats. Now they were shouting in Union. “KISS! KISS! KISS!”

And even your captain was smirking and shouting. “Just do it, Penguin.”

Penguin face was crimson red. “I-I won’t do it in public. This has to be special and…privately.”

Shachi was smacking his back. “Special my ass, dude. You don’t have to take her right here right now. We just want a kiss, not any mature content on this battlefield.” He was smirking and you couldn’t look anyone in their eyes, like ever again.

“I wouldn’t mind a little makeout session, tho” You whispered just loud enough for Penguin to hear. He was squeezing your hands. “Are you for real right now?” He hissed and was looking at your pouting face. “But you wouldn’t mind…right?”

He was hiding his face further with his hat. “I wouldn’t mind…” Suddenly he was holding your chin to bring your face closer to his and closed the gap between you with a heated and longing kiss. After he let go of your lips he was whispering and you could feel his warm breath on your lips. “I guess I like you too…romantically. Maybe we should get to know each other better.” With that his lips were again on yours and you could hear the joy laughter of your crewmates in the background.

[youredreamingofroo]

The Roo-seum...

group pics and other stuff under the cut! (just to avoid flooding the dash lmao)

CAS pics in the NEXT POST

Now onto me ranting.

The Roo-seum is a 16 sim project that's consumed me for the last couple of days (in a good way), this explores most of Roo's lifespan (not implying he's dead LMAO), from the age of 9 years old, up to now, 28 years old, talking about what he went through for each year (for the most part anyways), of course, I didn't start at 1 or 2 years old, mainly because, way back when I made all of these Roo's (roughly back in July '23, this is not an idea that suddenly sparked, I only acted on it because I have a way to show off each age that isn't a Picrew lmao... I can't draw well so I just used TS4), I made them in Picrew, which... at the time couldn't find a Picrew with kids/babies so the youngest I went was around 9 years old, and just built up from there.

Roo is my persona gone OC, around 5 or 6 years ago, I put on this persona of "Roo", which started as "The Unfortunate Roo" and Roo's (or Mine, since this was technically a Persona, doubling as an OC) design was COMPLETELY different back then, He wasn't a he, the design was a sucubus I think, I don't really recall and I really couldn't care for it, it's embarrassing 💀 I don't remember how he came to fruition, but I remember finding this one picrew that I LOVED, and I used that picrew to create ~Roo~, his initial design was akin to the 22-23 year old Roo, there's a lot about his design that I could talk about but will avoid doing so, but just know that his Sims design isn't super on the dot to what his actual design is supposed to look like.

So... what's Piametia?? Why did you come up with that?? How did you come up with that?? To be honest, I never actually came up with a name up until yesterday when writing the note for 10-12 year old Roo, I don't really remember what sparked me to come up with a condition that "has the Patient suffer a sudden loss or gain in pigmentation and melanin in the eyes and hair," I guess 17 year old me thought it was cool, and it is! It opened up a new story for him, where I couldn't provide story (for someone without Piametia), like how being affected by Piametia caused him to go from extremely accepting of himself, to getting bullied into "normalizing himself," While he achieved this, it was really in vain, because he was still bullied for his condition, but as he grew older, out of his teen years and into adulthood, it bothered him less and less, because, well, shit like that doesn't fucking matter, sure it still bothered him, sure it still traumatized him to some degree, but it's just what some stupid kids say, it doesn't determine what his worth is, and he understands that, so after recovering from almost ending his life, he realized that something had to change, he couldn't live in this wallowing ball of agony because some kids determined "hey! That kid is different! They're no longer as cool as we are! Get him!!"

I should also mention that he didn't develop Piametia til he was around 9 years old, which is exactly what the condition does, it's genetic (although it never occurred in Reese or Virginia, the only reasonable conclusion was that it skipped a generation) and it's drilled into the person's DNA and only takes effect before puberty (in the average kid). So Roo was considered a part of the other kids' little cliques and stuff, but only until his hair and eyes changed color.

I kind of hyped this up to be something extravagant and maybe it is, idk, I don't have the eyes of the audience, I'm just a guy who made this and I have a rather critical view of my work sometimes, I try not to, but force of habit lmao. I really liked making this because Roo is an OC who has grown with me, mainly because he's both a persona of me while also being an OC, so where I change and grow, he often reflects that change and growth, in his own ways of course, I often wish he was real, but he's not and that's the harsh reality. Also gonna clarify that his life does NOT completely reflect mine, I'm only 18, he's ten years older then me lmao, where he was 8 I was 10 years to be conceived- Roo is still his own character, he's had his own relationships, all of which have went poorly (reflecting my own), and even had his own stalker (which escalated)- But parts of his life like when he became extremely homophobic of himself and who he truly was is not reflective of myself, I never had that stage in life (whether you did or not however is not a bad thing unless your actually just homophobic, then gtfo like?? 😭).

I went on a rant there, and I probably could've kept going, but figured I should stop at some point lol, but I hope you guys like this, I sure LOVED making this and I love doing Roo related things and posts. I also provided text in the image descriptions in case it's hard to read in the images (I tried to keep it as clear and readable as possible), and in case anyone who uses a screen-reader finds this post :)

[chatterkat]

Saw you in a dream

Are you who you seem?

Was it always in the cards for me to be aimless?

No direction

Nothing pulling me down from the sky

It seems like I always get too high

Ruby in a bit of shock from the vision she got from her mother, questions who she really was. She lied, she wasn’t perfect. Ruby’s been idealizing her mother her whole life , and been trying to be just like her, but Ruby has also struggled with what that means for a long time as well. She thought she needed to be like her mom, but how she doesn’t know what to think.

Oh, the air is cold

I don't know how to breathe

I'm begging, can you

Guide my way out

Of this place?

Ruby wants answers, but she isn’t going to get them from the person she most wants them from.

Red like roses fills my dreams

Calling back to the previous red like roses, we know that this refers to Ruby’s nightmares of her mother’s bloody demise. However it’s also again just representing the nightmare that is Ruby’s struggle with her own identity.

Open wide

You were born to hypnotize them all

They said their prayers

(Can you, can you)

Can you hear me up there?

Now this is interesting! It sounds like a response from Summer. Much like how she responses in Red like Roses II. In that song it’s unclear whether it’s a Summer from elsewhere feeling those regrets (I think there is surely a good chance she had become like the hound) or if it was an imagined response by Ruby. It was almost ghostly, like the dead trying to answer the living but unable to actually communicate with each other.

It’s possible it is Ruby still in this lyric since the can you hear me up there part, might make sense from Ruby having fallen down though the world talking back up towards Remnant. However the other lyrics in this section don’t make sense as much sense then. I think it could easily be Summer again speaking from wherever she is dead or alive? Perhaps she is part of the tree and that is what she means by up there.

Open wide might be a reference to Sky is Falling(as it may be a song for the hound) as the opposite of what the song there says which is to “close your eyes my friend” (and the hound is a SEW so…)

Anyway the usage of the word hypnotize is interesting. It’s not just their silver eyes that hypnotize, it’s their whole self. They may hypnotize their enemies(“they said their prayers”), but also If it’s indeed Summer talking about Ruby, then she has certainly hypnotized the world with her message given what we see in Vacuo. Ruby has that spark that charisma that gets people to follow her. It works too if it were a Ruby to Summer lyric in the sense it could represent Ruby’s idealization of Summer, but again it makes more sense IMO to be from Summer to Ruby.

Alternatively it’s Ruby talking about herself trying to hype herself up. She could be saying “can you hear me up there” as a threat to the cat or to Salem, that’s she’s gonna get them, but it seems too early in the song for that confident conclusion about herself

What survives

After all the dust is gone?

Were you there 'til the end?

(The end)

Were you at least called a friend?

These seem to directly call back to the volume 7 song Until the End which seems to be about Ruby(either from her POV or Summer’s) declaring she would be there until the end. It seems to refer to Ruby giving up briefly this volume with the tea. Would she be called a friend by others after giving up?

Or it could be Ruby questioning if her mom was there until the end, if she was a good person a friend in the end?

Otherside,

Did you mean to make me half or whole?

Will I ever be

(complete?)

When will I become all of me?

This is obviously back to Ruby’s perspective, as she questions whether she can ever truly be herself or always in her mother’s shadow. Ruby questions “otherside” and I’m unclear if that mean the otherside where her mother is or if otherside refers to the Ever After. Where the Ever After has both broken her and pushed her to become something new.

Guide my way out

Of this place

I can't define

Would it even be enough

To change my mind?

Your memory everlasting

At war with my foolish pride

What is left?

I know it's you and I

When I look inside

I'll be who you were

And I'll be even more

Ruby looks into herself and now realizes her idolization of her mother doesn’t gel with reality and her “foolish pride” of trying to live up to a standard that more illusion than reality. Interestingly she realizes she still carries this will or memory of her mother, but she no longer wants to be just like her, but rather both her and something greater…herself. She chooses herself.

A moment of quiet is all it takes

To reclaim a life and a promise made

I am the reflection of who prevails

I'm what inspired the fairytale

The emblem symbolizes the promise made, which Ruby never said what it was when she traded it away, but I have the feeling she thought it was a promise to come back, but in reality it was “I love you, just the way you are” Ruby reclaims the promise, hearing that echoed again from her mom is what let her finally be able to to choose herself. So Ruby also reclaims the emblem when she returns from the tree. I also think it symbolizes that part where she is who her mom was but more. Summer surrenders the emblem, and Ruby is truly defining it as hers now.

A moment of quiet is all it takes

To reclaim a life and a promise made

I am the reflection of who prevails

I'm what inspired the fairytale

(I'm what inspired the fairytale)

I think what is meant by this like is that Ruby is now being the one that would inspire a fairytale, she is being who she wants to be finally, and defining her own story her own fairytale instead of just living through others(her Moms, Alex’s)

Guide my way out

(I'll be free)

Of this place

(I'll escape it, I will guide my way out)

Guide my way out

Of this place

In the end Ruby will guide herself out, with this new understanding of herself and her mother. Her mother still helped guide her in the end with her promise and her truth that broke Ruby’s image of her, but now Ruby is breaking away from that and doing it her way.

If you got his far thanks for reading my analysis. Let me know what you think! I’ll be doing a rewatch soon if the series and hopefully more song analysis so stay tuned!

[silviakundera]

Best drama love stories? Two characters who will move heaven and earth for each other? Who convince you true love exists by just how much they adore one another?

So I've been thinking about this anon. An upon consideration, the questions you asked are very different things to me!

The drama love stories which truly convince me that maybe true love does exist by just how much they adore one another, by how much I can understand & feel the mutual bond between them... are not necessarily the characters in dramas who I see "moving heaven & earth" for each other.

Why? I guess because in my mind, it's 1 thing to go to extremes when your back is up against the wall and everything is falling apart - because when adrenaline is flowing and heroics are called for, yes it's very dramatic and exciting to jump off that cliff together. Humans get very hyped up and extra like that. But that doesn't necessarily make me think of true love. To me, true love isn't a dramatic act of sacrifice that a stressed & despairing person is driven to, through circumstances beyond their control. It's not the story of the worst months of a person's life and the person they are desperately clinging to as external factors torment them. True love is a connection, tactic understanding, a partnership. It's living for someone and every moment feeling better & brighter because that person experiences it with you; experiencing beautiful moments with someone when living your lives as a pair. A person who makes ordinary life into something extraordinary.

Don't get me wrong: I love dramatics and big hero moments and badass rescues and also my red flag romantic lead!. All of that are some of my fav dramas. But they don't often give me that feeling of wow, I believe in love again, fuck I'm too single right now. and then I'm back on the dating apps.

So I'm going zero in here on some couples who gave me that rush. Ships who have a lot of messy, harsh conflict, or are too surreal for me to personally relate to (like being in love with a god) won't be included.

This is very very subjective and personal! Only what gave that feeling to ME, silvia.

You Are My Glory - devastating relationship propaganda. Watching this drama for the first time really did make me sign up for a dating app again lmao. The last 10 episodes are established relationship comfort couple goodness.

Bad Buddy - Pat and Pran are my gold standard for friends & lovers. By the end of the drama I truly believed nothing could come between them and they would never want to live without each other.

Fake It Til You Make It - a squee-inducing relationship between adult professionals that feels real and obtainable. This is the relationship I want for me & the drama makes it seem not completely out of reach.

A Tale of Thousand Stars - Hallmark channel romance done right. A classic romance novel on screen that just hits all the tropes, with great pining. I know in this one they don't truly hook up until the end, but then we got the 2 episode My Skyy mini-series of established relationship epilogue. also: HE GAVE UP INDOOR BATHROOMS AND THE INTERNET. If that's not true love, what is?

The Princess Royal/The Grand Princess - I'm cheating here because it's truly the novel version of this couple that are epic and unforgettable for me. The drama is good but couldn't capture the rich depth of the otp, in their second time around. But the novel version omgggggg inspiring, someone please marry and divorce and remarry me NOW.

A Journey to Love - a drama that earned it in every way; we see them falling in love and we see their devotion. The way they loved each other exactly how they NEEDED to be loved. I felt that.

Parallel World aka West out of Yu Men - it's easy to make a split second decision to die for someone, it's harder to live for someone and even harder to give up well laid plans & forgive the unforgivable. When all the secrets come out and it doesn't end them... that's when I knew this couple was epic to me. idk but I just felt the connection between them and felt the drama earned my belief that nothing could turn them against each other.

Hidden Love: like sliding into a warm bath. 💕💕💕💕💕 I absolutely believed in their love, in every way.

Story of Minglan: They took a very long time to get there but oh when they do! Beautiful mutual support and a loving relationship of respect and partnership that would have been rare in that time period/setting.

The Spirealm - Reality is whenever you are. Enough said. (Yes, this is a strange one. But I stand by my choice, this censored danmei adaption was ultimately very romantic to me. 😭)

The Rebel Princess/Monarch Industry - There's a certain warmth and passion between them that stands out for me in the sea of other costume dramas.

Just misses the cut:

The Untamed - almost on the list, but disqualified by Lan Wangji leaving the love of his life to go be a politician at the end wtf ??????? sorry not sorry but that it stains the epicness of the romance for me

[soraviie]

Hmmm I have an idea for MTL: MTL feel left out/upset if you do something without him / without telling him - nothing bad, just like, eg. at 2pm in the afternoon while he's at work you randomly decide to shave your head or get a puppy and don't tell him til he gets home (who would think of it as a fun surprise, who'd be 'you could have warned me, you know I don't like surprises', and who would be like 'why didn't you tell me you wanted to do this, we could have done it together').

JIMIN — perhaps a predictable one but you can't tell me who wouldn't. Probably wold be standing in a doorway, tapping his foot and sulking.

"What part about we're a couple, do you not understand?"

"It's not even that seriou—"

"I am you. You are me. Understood?"

His eyebrows come to knit together in order to portray a nearly unified line of discontent as his cheeks expand in an insulted pout.

"Yes, sir," with a sigh, you relent.

NAMJOON? — I don't know why but I'd feel like if it's a decision that would impact his life, no matter how inadvertently he'd like to know. If it's would be like what kind of dress you should buy or whether to get a new DLC for your favourite game, he wouldn't care but he would care— ok, lemme just explain. I feel like if you lived separate he wouldn't be as upset. Show him your new dog?

"Oh, you've got a pet...You sure you have the time to take care of them?"

Shave your head? Sure, he'd do a spit take and stammer throughout it but he'd be chill.

"O-oh, you're- you're...without hair! That's...I mean you look great!"

"Joon, you don't have to fake it."

But if you'd live together, I feel like he'd get more upset? In a way, merging your lives together means you debate things more. I don't think Namjoon really likes surprises at home, 'cause it's supposed to be his steady rock and you along with it, so he wouldn't appreciate not having a conversation even if it's a passing one.

TAEHYUNG — I feel like he'd be on the fence about this. Depends largely on what the surprise is and truthfully what his mood is that day. If it'd be a new haircut, he'd hype you up but if it'd be like "let's fly out to meet my parents" he'd sit there like:

"Yeeeeyy, how great." For large things, like changing apartment interior, going away for a couple days, travelling or changing jobs he'd be a bit sulky but largely he'd just hype you up.

JIN — would tease you about doing something, especially, if you'd buzzy your hair (he'd be such a meanie about it T-T calling you egghead for days) but he wouldn't prohibit you from doing so. As long as you don't leave home, come or go somewhere in the middle of the night (I feel like that'd be a rule for both of you. Sort of like "you can go wherever you want just tell me where and when are you coming back") he's okay with it. He might pretend to be disapproving of a pet at first but he'd totally be like that one "dad and the dog" meme.

HOSEOK — our king of green flags. Would actually love if you'd be that kind of person who could go along your wishes and not need to consult anyone about it. I feel like he'd like a certain degree of mutual independence. Yes, you're together and you love each other very much but you've got your own lives and sometimes one just has to do what they feel like it that day. Regardless, he would wholly support you and be a phenomenal hype man, well, until it's a thing that ends up with you getting hurt, he's not fond of that.

JUNGKOOK — You'd place him higher wouldn't you? But...Jungkook is spontaneous himself. If he wants to shave off his eyebrows at 2:30 in the morning, he will so in that way he sort of can't really get mad at you for doing the same thing. Without a single thought in his head, he would say yes if you asked to join. Help you dye your hair in the sink? Sure. Go out and eat some ice cream and children's playground? Sounds good but if you want to do it alone, he doesn't put much fuss. Though obviously he doesn't like you going around at night.

"I got hungry and you were still at work," you weakly defend, twirling your thumbs. Seeing the number of phone calls, reaching double digits, you felt a sickly feeling fester in the pit of your stomach. And yes, it also just could be that 24/7 shop hot dog but coming home to a genuinely distraught Jungkook pacing around the room, certainly did not help.

He heaves a pinched sigh, the space between his eyebrows etched with deep wrinkles.

"I'm not mad at you," he says, both hands on his hips. "But...world is dangerous. You know that, right?"

"Of course, I do."

"Just...just take Bam with you if you go out."

YOONGI — It's not that he doesn't care, he does! but it's still your life. So as long as you don't force him into plans, you answer all of his calls and don't literally leave the country, he's okay with supporting you from the side. He trusts your judgement, in that way. Even if you would change your job , he wouldn't make a scene. At most his eyes would widen, for example, if you visit his studio with an impromptu tattoo all over the arm.

If he thinks something is not a good look but you're beaming with all the world's joy, at most he'd just drawl cautiously:

"Are you...ssuuuureeeee about that?"

"Yeah," you grin broadly at him and a part of him melts as you do. "Isn't it great?"

"Sure, of course," he's quick to agree, nodding along with the lies. "It's your life. Do what makes you happy."

© soraviie, 2023

[anonymoushouseplantfan]

Guys, I don’t mean to be scoldy, but we go through go this with every single one of their pr cycles. They come out strong with hype and drama and everyone gets nervous that maybe this time it will work, and it never does. It worked up until the wedding, and it’s been downhill ever since. True it’s been a very slow downhill climb, but that’s because the royal family basically gifted them millions of dollars of institutional and symbolic capital that they had accumulated for more than a century, and it has taken years to erode that. THIS THIS ALL OF THIS. Everytime they do a reset they come out the gate strong like a station but halfway round the track they turn into a donkey, they can GET your attention but they can't HOLD your attention cos they have nothing to hold it with.

They left 2 years ago and build a worldwide wellness brand, become global speakers, high end brand ambassadors, the next wonder woman and take over streaming services amd here we are 2 years later STILL talking about how Meghan definitely did NOT make Kate cry even though Harry just said she did.

They'll go quiet soon with some Coronation PR towards May then they'll come to Coronation be put in a corner on time out but with a HUGE splash about secret meetings and bridges being built then they'll disappear again and drop season 2 of Keeping up with the Sussexs and then she'll leave him and start her single mom brave warrior PR that will last til her book comes out and we start all over again.

It's rinse and repeat every single time, if they were gonna be successful they would have already done it by now when they had some popularity, they haven't. They won't. Its same old same old.

Lol, remember when they were going to be next Clinton Foundation? And then the new Obamas? And then the next Gateses? It never works.

Maybe it’s because I’m old enough to remember the Diana years, but I don’t see them as a success at all. Yes, there’s royal drama and hype, but that always sells. It’s like foam. It rises quickly and then it collapses.

[ratedfleur]

i want to see more of ganda & pogi when they weren’t together yet & only crushing on each other!! ganda definitely was and still is hao’s student manager <3 just like what you said before, dahil student council members nga sila & ganda is hao’s student manager lagi silang magkasama!! everybody’s swooning over them everywhere they go! i wanna see how they got together & how they developed feelings for each other!!

- 🎻

omg lengthy brainrot ahead hihi hindi naman halata na i enjoyed writing this 😄 also i purposely wrote this in a rush bago ako mag sleep bc alam kong hindi ako makakatulog kaka-isip if hindi ko pa sinulat HEH

also full name reveal na ni ganda heh self indulgent syempre 😔 also i couldn’t get myself to give pogi a new name, basta zhang hao pa din siya (imaginin niyo nalang may filo name siya) (also defo send filo name ideas!!! i want to see how pogi looks like sa mata niyo mwa) 🫶

before ganda became hao’s student manager, he always tried inviting her to watch his games so that she’s aware of what happens in the games especially in the UAAP, his most important events in his college years.

“aly please? just one game, you don’t even have to stay if you don’t want to.” hao says as he chased after alyx, finding her strides hard to catch up to.

how does this tiny lady walk so fast as if she’s 6 foot tall? hao thought as he got squished through the sea of people as he tried chasing alyx through the halls.

seeing her head pop up in the sea of students, he grabs onto her hand, making ganda yelp when hao pulls her hand.

“so? i’ll see you tomorrow?” hao asked with hope in his eyes, only for ganda to shake her head.

“sorry zhang, i’m busy tomorrow nor am i interested to go.” ganda says before she pulled her hand away from hao, leaving him in the busy hallway.

but hao had one last trick up his sleeve, diligently preparing it once he got home. he immediately went on his laptop and got to work, hoping his trick would work just in time for his first game of the year.

the moment aly step foot in the arena, students were cheering and waving at her once their eyes landed on the fair lady, excited to see the pretty face finally joining them to watch the UAAP.

what you didn’t know is that hao was looking for you, looking left and right for his tiny girl— or rather his tiny feisty soon to be student manager, manifesting, he says.

aly sat cluelessly on the seat given to her by hao himself, specifically choosing a seat in the UP area where most isko’s and iska’s sat. soon enough, the game started, announcers starting and hyping the crowd up as students from two universities cheered.

she of course cheered for her own school, even dressed in a red shirt. moments later, the athletes poured into the court. hao immediately looked for her despite it being a huge arena, his eyes looked for the feisty eyed lady before they landed on aly who blinked a few times before smiling in a thin line.

this has hao smiling to himself once he proves to himself that he could get you to watch his game, though uncertain whether you’d stay ‘til the end.

a few games later, hao specifically made the team’s manager get you from the audience, making you simply follow her when she says hao was looking for you.

letting him celebrate with his team, you stayed a few steps back before hao himself stepped away from the team, standing right before you.

“ayos ba?” he asked.

pursing your lips, “ayos lang.” you answered, making hao chuckle.

“eh what about my request? naka-decide ka na?” he asked once more, making you nod your head.

full of expectancy, hao waited for you to answer his questions.

“i’m accepting your request but—“ “but?” “i won’t start immediately, busy pa ‘ko sa council.”

hao nods, understanding where you were coming from.

“copy, miss aly. feel free to start kung kailan mo gusto, i just need you on court, that’s all.” he says whilst you nodded.

since you were both partners in the student council whilst you were his student manager in his athletic activities, you two were stuck together like gum, from day to night.

and with hao being the gentleman he is, he takes care of you whenever you two are alone. all of his caring acts were not for the prying eyes but he was acting based off of his natural instincts.

“here, i know hindi ka pa kumakain the moment you sat down.” hao said while sliding over a paper bag from your favorite café in the area.

you smile lightly at him when your eyes meet, “thanks zhang.” you said to him as you took the sandwhich out, snacking on it as you both worked on a event schedule.

“aly, sakay na. hatid na kita, it’s raining!” hao called out to you in the rain from his car as you ran towards the bus stop. you turned your head to look at him, waving your hand as you shielded yourself from the rain.

“hindi na, i’ll be fine.” you insisted before hao stopped his car beside you, getting out with a umbrella in hand as he insisted on giving you a ride.

“sabi ko ngang i’m fine eh.” you said as you settled in your seat, thanking him when he hands you a box of tissues and his handkerchief to wipe yourself down.

“no can do, i know magkakasakit ka tomorrow so drink advil later on.” hao says to you knowing how often you got sick even from a little drizzle before he drove out of the university’s street, eyeing you ever so often.

the ride goes well not until you’re both stuck in traffic with you drenched in your wet clothes. this gets hao cursing when he caught sight of this before he reaches back for his spare clothes that he always keeps in his car for safety measures after practice or his games.

“sorry, i should’ve offered this kanina pa. i won’t look, basta bilisan mo at baka may makakita pa sa’yo.” hao says whilst handing you a shirt, recognizing it to be one of his subtle jersey shirts.

“‘wag kang titingin ah?” you said while squinting your eyes at hao who looks away from you, staring right out the tinted windows.

you cautiously looked around your surroundings before slipping on his shirt on top of your wet one, slipping off your wet shirt quickly even while already clothed, a trick you learned online.

after that, the traffic barely moves while the rain kept pouring buckets. this gave time for you and hao to catch up on each other, finding out more and more about each other’s interests and whatnots.

an hour later, you were feeling drowsy with the time being 5 minutes passed 1. hao noticed how you turned silent after nearly an hour and a half of chitchatting away in traffic.

he lowers his music down, letting the rain lull you to sleep as he drove through the busy streets of manila.

soon enough, you were fast asleep with your head bobbing up and down, a sign that you were clearly fast asleep.

one long nap later, you woke up to the sight of the car parked right in front of your apartment with hao simply scrolling on his phone as you napped.

“kanina pa tayo?” you asked with a croaky voice, clearing your throat as hao nodded, putting his phone away.

“like 30 minutes? it’s okay, i have no places to be at naman and besides, you needed that nap.” hao says with a smile, letting you tidy yourself up.

you both got out of his car whilst he watched you carry your bag, he walks you over to the lobby of your apartment, hands in his pockets as you bid your goodbyes to him.

“thanks for tonight, hao.” you said, finally calling him by his first name as you bid your goodbyes, making hao smile as he waved.

“sleep tight, miss aly.” hao says as you entered the elevator, waving once more before the doors shut.

and yet somehow, a tiny flower bud was blooming between you two, slowly blooming into a beautiful flower that would grow into a field of flowers of different colors.