#in the series

[kitsunesakii]

Lunch date.

Chapter two

Sasha rubbed her eyes. The light glow of the computer was beginning to blur together. She had spent most of the afternoon listening to Tim complain to Martin about Jon and for Martin to, not that she was surprised, back Jon up to a nauseating degree. She was trying to track the location of the original Breekon and Hope delivery service since they dropped off an odd antique desk as well as a lighter. Her attempts seemed to be in vain other than a few news articles and the statements Jon had given her.

"Oh come on Martin, just admit he's a little insane."

"Christ Tim! He's tired and stressed, we have bloody worms crawling around outside. Cut him some slack!"

Sasha sighed and stood up, passing her fellow assistants. She would try the library, maybe if she could find some documents or even a newspaper or something. Anything to get away from their bickering and out of the mocking glow of her computer.

The actual library was used mainly by the students and such. The only part of the Institute that had any credibility left. It was mostly empty this time of day. Sasha took a corridor down into the 'public records' section, passing a yellow door that made her pause.

Has it always been there? It was a tacky color for such a bland colorless hallway. Sasha didn't have the brainpower to pay it any mind, instead finding the bookshelf with company logs. She managed to actually locate the documents that mapped out the original building used for the service and even tracked down the records for the service vehicles. But in relation to where it was and what happened to it, that information was foggy.

Sasha hummed and passed another aisle to look through records about shipments, passing yet another yellow door. She paused in front of it and frowned. Was there always a door there?

Ah. Right. She should have expected sooner.

Nonetheless, Sasha ignored it and continued on. The silence was starting to get to her, she opened the third directory, trying to desperately track a shipment that Breekon and Hope supposedly sent out. It ended up going across the sea from a ship she suspected to be Lukas's, but after that the record is simply blank.

She was able to figure out a few residents that had gotten deliveries so it wasn't a complete fail. Of course Sasha had to wonder how many of those people weren't missing or passed away by now but that was a worry for a different day. For now she was content to have the scowling lady at the desk fax over the newspaper clippings as well as deliver the bundle of shipment catalogs down to Jon's office. She felt satisfied enough to ignore the yellow door she passed on her way out of the Institute and towards her usual spot for coffee.

Sasha ordered her usual and a slice of toffee pudding before she took a seat by the window and watched the cars go by.

"Is this seat taken?"

Her gaze snapped up towards the familiar voice, recognizing him instantly by the cacophony of colors in his coat and the spotted scarf that didn't seem to sit correctly over his shoulder. Micheal stood lax in front of her, his hands hidden in his coat pockets and his blonde hair washing over his back and curling in on itself over the side of his face.

"Not at all." She responded, watching him blur into the chair in front of her. He rested his chin in his palm, a giddy smile shifting and warping like tree leaves in a breeze.

"This place is quite more to my liking than your place that watches." He hummed, looking somewhere past her.

"I agree."

"Tell me, assist-" Micheal chuckled and looked at her, "-excuse me, Sasha" he amended, "Why not leave for someplace more like this?"

She shrugged and took a sip of her drink. "I like working at the archives."

"Right. That ugly place isn't worth what the crawling rot gives it credit for."

Sasha frowned slightly and shook her head, "the crawling- what?!"

Micheal laughed in response. The sound was starting to lose its sting in her ears.

"Whaaaat," His smile spread with every word like pulled taffy. "My dear you truly have no clue about the happening around your Institute."

She rolled her eyes. "Well you've been a massive help."

He just laughed again. "The ceaseless watcher doesn't like me, my Dear, but that doesn't mean I cannot intervene."

Sasha didn't have the patience to wonder what the hell he was referring to. "I think you just like freaking Jon out."

Micheal's grin twisted over his features and shifted as he moved to lean back, his hair flickering out into nothing before moving out again as normal. "Yes, confusing the archivist is fun." He looked over his shoulder at nothing in particular before turning back towards her, "but that's not why I've decided to help."

"You have a strange idea of what 'help' is."

He giggled. "Ideas are arbitrary."

"And so is this conversation." Sasha shook off the headache trying to buzz through her ears. "Is it too forward to ask why you are here?"

Micheal giggled again and reached out, his hand covering over hers. "Because, my Dear, you...Confuse me."

Sasha didn't really have a response to that. Instead looking down at where his hand draped over hers. Sharp, boney things that seemed not right to her eyes, but it didn't hurt, and they were quite soft for the illusion of pointed tips. Jon had mentioned that Micheal had referred to himself as the 'throat of delusion' so she shouldn't have been surprised.

But Jon didn't get all the details right. Micheal was certainly dangerous, she wouldn't deny that, and it was clear he probably knew things that might help them, but he wasn't actively trying to set the institute on fire and that was a lot better than the other things they were dealing with currently.

"You stalk people that confuse you?"

"Surely I don't know what you mean." He made a dramatic hand gesture to follow the slight nod and sly grin.

"That was you, in the archives, your door."

"Mayyybe."

"Why?"

"You search for information in the depths of your own understanding, yet you are blind to the truth in front of you."

"Really not an answer, Micheal."

He chuckled. "Entertainment then."

Sasha took another sip of her drink. "How do I confuse you?"

"You ask a lot of questions, my Dear." He stood, his scarf seemingly growing around him as he drew himself up like the fuzz of cotton. The colors dragging in place, slow to reconnect to the places on his coat. "Until next time, Archiv-, Sasha." And he disappeared into the sea of sounds around her.

Chapter:

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

[athena-xox]

Do prudence and Charlotte appear anywhere else besides Ashlynn’s fashion frolic?

[menaceadored]

Okayyyy so a big thing that has been holding me back while writing this fic that no one is wanting or anticipating is that I had this idea to create a second conflict for Nancy with school for the B plot, but then that conflict became two conflicts when I added my OCs and it all just got way more convoluted than I anticipated- so in order to move forward with this story, I’m cutting the B plot down significantly so I can refocus on Robin and Hawkins and less on the OCs in Boston

[noelledeltarune]

tbh i feel like people in general are sleeping on gooigi a little bit like. i love that guy. unfortunately his creation story does make me dislike e gadd a great deal more than i otherwise would have but hey you win some you lose some

[dat-soldier]

Life Story

[yuttikkele]

hey gamers I’ve started watching star trek does anyone else see the romantic tension between captain kirk and mr. spock

[raphaellearp]

Sevika's first day as a counselor

My baby standing up to the snobs that treated her people horribly for years <3333

[majindoodles]

look-a-like

[charrfie]

Chimera

Acrylic on canvas, August 2024

[septemberkisses]

the fact that i'm no longer the same age as the protagonists of novels and films i once connected to is so heartbreaking. there was a time when I looked forward to turning their age. i did. and i also outgrew them. i continue to age, but they don't; never will. the immortality of fiction is beautiful, but cruel.

[beif0ngs]

Over the Garden Wall 10th Anniversary stop motion short by creator Patrick McHale and Aardman Animations

[wetcatjayce]

no but even viktor's desire to be remembered could be viewed to be coming from loneliness. when I die, would anyone notice?

[bronkdoes-stuff]

Me when the story that obviously isn’t going to have a happy ending doesn’t have a happy ending

[haveyouseenthisseries-poll]

This list was created consulting Year in Reviews, Fanlore articles, user feedback, vintage pinterest posts, and my own knowledge. Don't worry about not seeing the shows in their entirety, vote based on your judgement. Enjoy!

[readwritealldayallnight]

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who from the moment he laid eyes on you, has only ever referred to you as his wife

You, this sweet little thing, running through the halls on base one day when you turn a corner and nearly run headfirst into the Lieutenant, who’s walking alongside Soap

“Oh! Sorry about that, sir.” You told him, never slowing down in your hurried pace as you snuck around his large frame and continued down towards whatever you were evidently late for

The only reason his gaze had followed your retreating form, was that unlike everyone else, you had met his eyes when you spoke, even smiled warmly up at him

That one smile and he was done for

“Who was tha’?” The sergeant had questioned, seeing Ghost’s attention still fixated on you.

“Think that was my wife.”

“Yer what?!”

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who makes it a point to let everyone know that you are in fact his wife

Well, everyone apart from you apparently

He would certainly never abuse his position as a Lieutenant, but some new recruit had the audacity to whistle at you as you walked by? Well 100 laps around the base don’t exactly run themselves

Another soldier saved you a seat next to him in a briefing? He can enjoy scrubbing toilet seats for the next week in that case

Someone actually had the bollocks to ask you for your phone number? Perfect, he needed a volunteer for demonstrating hand to hand combat to the recruits, medics on standby of course

By the time he properly introduces himself to you for the first time, it’s understood by everyone else around that you are, for all intents and purposes, Mrs Riley

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who listens to you tell him your name in a voice that resembles music to his ears, hardly bothering to remember your last name, seeing as it’ll be changing soon enough anyway

“You can call me anythin’ you want, love.” His deep, gravelly voice had sent shivers down your spine, cheeky smirk widening beneath his mask. “So long as you call me, that is.”

By the end of your first date, (you were sitting alone in the dining hall and he wordlessly joined you what do you mean this isn’t a date) he’s wondering if you’ll insist on a ceremony or if he can sweep you away to the nearest courthouse and make this official, slipping a ring onto you finger and himself into you

You had laughed when he put his number into your phone and named himself ‘Husband’, certain that the man was only messing with you, some kind of hazing that you apparently weren’t aware Lieutenants played on the new communications hire, but it was only fair seeing as he’d saved your contact under ‘Wife’

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who is over the moon every time you play along, even if he knows you believe you’re only playing

“Ach, thanks Lt. Just what I needed.” Soap said, seeing Ghost’s approaching form enter the common room, holding a steaming cup of tea in each hand

“S’for my wife. Get your own.” The older man gruffly replied, sliding the mug onto the side table next to where you’re curled up on the couch, reading a book

“Aw, thank you honey.” You giggled, smiling up as him with an expression he thinks would taste even sweeter than honey if he were to run his tongue across your upturned lips

“Happy wife, happy life, sergeant.” Ghost shrugged, ignoring the other man’s pout, landing next to you and reaching an arm behind you across the back of the couch

“God, maybe I really should keep you.” You’d laughed, reaching a leg out to dig your socked toes into his muscled thigh, teasing him

Grasping your foot into his large, strong hands, he began massaging it, uncaring that you were only two of the many people in the common room, not when you looked at him like that, smiling together as though you truly were nothing more than a married couple

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who surprised you one day, insisting he needed your help with something crucial off base, and drove you to a local shopping outlet to look at none other than dresses

“Is there some sort of party happening?” You’d questioned, confused out of your mind

“Suppose you could consider it a party.” He’d answered, leading you through the many racks of dresses, you noticed were all, very conveniently, white

“Now while you’re lookin’ through dress sizes,” he’d added, taking your left hand in both of his. “You know your ring size? Got my own shoppin’ to do ‘round here.”

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