#s is the only one in any particular order

[moongothic]

So the Seraphim only take orders from certain people they've been programmed to follow (namely the Vegapunks and the Gorosei), but also they do take orders from individuals who possess an authority chip. Between that and the knowledge that the Seraphim are cyborgs, it makes me wonder...

Like, do they have somekinda control chip installed somewhere in their bodies (brain, spine?) that acts as the thing that forces them to follow orders and not act (too much) on their own will? 'Cause would the existence of an authority chip, a thing that essentially "sends out orders", not also imply the existence of something that recieves the order (like other than their brain) and forcibly puts it into motion? Something similar to whatever visual scanner+database combo Vegapunk installed into Kuma that allowed him to instantly recognize certain people and whether or not they were enemies or allies to him (at least as far as the WG thinks)

'Cause if so, like. I wonder. Could you remove that chip and basically free the Seraphim from being just borderline-mindless flesh robots?

In that scenario... what would they become?

Because, like, we don't know how much Free Will the Seraphim even have, how developed their minds are? Are/would they be fully functional human beings (if immature because they're still kids) who have just had half their mind essentially turned off so they don't think about anything else except following orders? If you freed them from the WG's control would they be able to live and function freely just like Stussy's clone can? But when being under that kind of control is all they've ever known, would they know how to function? Like what do you do, where do you go, who do you become? Who are you to begin with, does that even matter? What about your relation to the person you were cloned from, what does that mean? Are you doomed (🐊🦩🦇) or expected (🦈🐻🐍🦅) to become just like the person you were cloned from? Do you even want that? What will having that kind of freedom to do and become whatever you want even mean to someone who has never known what it means to even want something for themselves?

(But also, depending on who you were cloned from, would people even trust you enough to allow you go free and live your own life, or would you be deemed a threat by simply existing because you are the clone of a horrible, heinous person?) (Of course, we know existing is not a crime, and no one is born into this world a criminal. But we also know the World of One Piece does not always think this kindly)

[omens-for-ophelia]

that certain night... ...the streets of town were paved in stars

to celebrate one year since s2 ending, here is part 1 of a little ineffable kisses sketch series - imagining some kisses throughout time that went decidedly better than That Kiss did...

part 1 - 1950's || part 2 || part 3 || part 4 || part 5 || part 6 || part 7 || part 8 || part 9 >>

any era you particularly want to see? let me know! 🩷

various gender expressions, no particular order & with only a passing attempt at historical accuracy because i am a history nerd and if i get too bogged down in the details i shall never finish it!

[joycrispy]

One thing I love about Crowley --never stated, but consistently shown-- is that he is, at heart, an engineer.

I have a few different things to say about that. Let's unpack them.

As the Unnamed Angel, we see his designs for the Pillars of Creation are millions of pages long, comprised of cramped text, footnotes, diagrams, schematics, etc. It's very...Renaissance polymath, in the way it implies a particular intersection of artist and inventor.

Also: in the naked romanticism with which he views his stars.

We already knew he made stars, but in s2 we learn that he did NOT sculpt each of them by hand. He designed a nebula ("a star factory," he says) that will form several thousand young stars and proto-planets, and all --aside from getting the 'factory' running-- without him lifting a finger. We also learn that these young stars and proto-planets stand in contrast to those made by other angels, which are going to come 'pre-aged.'

...I'm reminded of Hastur and Ligur's approach to temptations. Damning one human soul at a time, devoting singular attention to it over the course of years or decades, and how that stands in contrast to Crowley's reliance on, quote, 'knock-on effects.'

Ligur: It's not exactly...craftsmanship. Crowley: Head office don't seem to mind. They love me down there.

Hm.

I'm also reminded of the M25.

The M25 may not be as grand as a nebula (sentences you only say in GOmens fandom...), but LIKE his nebula it's an intricate, self-sustaining engine that does Crowley's work for him, many times over. Again.

That's some pretty neat characterization --and so is the indication towards Crowley's disinterest in victimizing anyone tempting individual people. It takes a considerable amount of planning and effort (and creeping about in wellies), but in accordance with his design the M25 generates a constant stream of low-grade evil on a gigantic scale.

Cumulatively gigantic, that is. Individually? Negligible.

But no other demon understands human nature well enough to parse that one million ticked-off motorists are not, in any meaningful way, actually equivalent to one dictator, or one mass-murderer, or even one little influential regressive. That's the trick of it. Crowley gets Hell's approval (which he NEEDS to survive, and to maintain the degree of freedom he's eked out for himself), and at the same time ensures that any actual ~Evil Influence~ is spread nice and thin.

It's some clever machinery. And he knows it, too:

The Unnamed Angel and Crowley are both proud of their ideas.

(musings on professional pride, Leonardo da Vinci, the crank handle, and 'the point to which Crowley loves Aziraphale' under the cut)

In the 1970's Crowley gives a presentation on the M25, projector and all, to a room full of increasingly impatient demons. Maybe the presentation was work-ordered; the 'can I hear a WAHOO?' definitely wasn't.

Before the Beginning, the Unnamed Angel can barely contain his excitement about his nebula. Aziraphale manages a baffled-but-polite, "....That's nice... :)"

11 years ago, Hastur and Ligur want to 'tell the deeds of the day,' and Crowley smiles to himself because (according to the script-book) he knows he has 'the best one.'

(Naturally, his 'deed' has nothing to do with tempting anybody, and everything to do with setting up a human-powered Rube-Goldberg machine of petty annoyance. Oodles of 'Evil' generated; very little harm done.)

Hastur and Ligur don't get it, of course. That's also consistent.

Nobody ever knows what the hell he's talking about.

It didn't make it on-screen, but, in both the novel AND the script-book, Crowley was friends with Leonardo da Vinci. The quintessential Renaissance polymath. That's where he got his drawing of the Mona Lisa --they're getting very drunk together, and Crowley picks up the 'most beautiful' of the preliminary sketches. He wants to buy it. Leonardo agrees almost off-the-cuff, very casual, because they're friends, and because he has bigger fish to fry than haggling over a doodle:

He goes, "Now, explain this helicopter thingie again, will you?" Because he's an engineer, too.

(It is 1519 at the latest, in this scene. Why the FUCK would Crowley know about helicopters, and be able to explain them, comprehensively, to Leonardo da Vinci?

...Well. I choose to believe he got bored one day and worked it out. Look, if you know how to build a nebula, you can probably handle aerodynamics. And anyway, I think it's telling that this is his idea of shooting the shit. 'A drunken mind speaks a sober heart,' and all. He probably babbled about Aziraphale long enough to make poor Leo sick)

Apart from Aziraphale, Leonardo da Vinci is the only person Crowley has any keepsakes or mementos of.

Think about that, though. Aziraphale's bookshop is bursting with letters, paintings, busts, and personalized signatures memorializing all the humans he's known and befriended over 6000 years (indeed: Aziraphale has living human friends up and down Whickber Street. He's part of a community).

Crowley doesn't have any of that. It's just the stone albatross from the Church (for pining), the infamous gay sex statue (for spicy pining), the houseplants (for roleplaying his deepest trauma over and over, as one does), and this one piece of artwork, inscribed, "To my friend Anthony from your friend Leo da V."

To me, at least, that suggests a level of attachment that seems to be rare for Crowley.

...Maybe he liked having someone to talk shop with? Someone who was interested? Someone engaged enough to ask questions when they didn't immediately understand?

...Anyway.

There's also the matter of the crank handle.

This thing:

This is one of the subtler changes from the book. In the book, Crowley knows Satan is coming and, desperate, arms himself with a tire iron. It's the best he can do. He's not Aziraphale; he wasn't made to wield a flaming sword.

The show, IMO, improves on this considerably. Now he, like Aziraphale, gets to face annihilation with what he was made for in his hand. And it's not a weapon, not even an improvised one like the tire iron.

He made stars with it.

[both gifs by @fuckyeahgoodomens]

If you Google 'crank handle,' you'll get variations on this:

Crank handles have been around for centuries. Consisting of a mechanical arm that's connected to a perpendicular rotating shaft, they are designed to convert circular motion into rotary or reciprocating motion.

Which is to say they're one of the 'simple machines,' like a lever or a pulley; the bread and butter of engineering. You'll also get a list of uses for a crank handle, archaic and modern. Among them: cranking up the engine of an old-fashioned car... say, a 1933 Bentley. That's what Crowley has been using his for, lately. But he's had it since he was an angel and he's still, it seems, very capable of it's angelic applications.

Stopping time. For instance.

(This is conjecture on my part, but, I like to imagine that Crowley has the ability to stop time for the same reason I can --and should-- unplug my computer before I perform maintenance on it. Time and Space are a matched set, after all, and in his designs in particular, one feeds into the other.)

I know everyone has already said this, but: I REALLY LIKE that when he needs to channel the heights of his power, he does so not with a weapon but with a tool. Practically with a little handheld metaphor for ingenuity. One from long-lost days when he made beautiful things.

(And he loved it. Still loves it --he incorporated that metaphor into the Bentley, didn't he?)

Let Aziraphale rock up to the apocalypse with a weapon: he has his own compelling thematic reasons to do exactly that. Crowley's story is different, and fighting isn't the only way to express defiance. And if you've been condemned as a demon and assumed to be destructive by your very nature, what better way than this?

He made stars. They didn't manage to take that from him.

Neither Crowley nor Aziraphale are fighters, really --they have no intention of fighting in any war. They'll annoy everyone until there's no war to fight in, for a start. But between the two, if one must be, then that one is Aziraphale. Principality of the Earth, Guardian of the Eastern Gate, Wielder of the Flaming Sword... all that stuff. Even if he'd prefer not to, it's very clear that Aziraphale can rise to the occasion, if he must.

Crowley was never that kind of angel. He wasn't a Principality. He doesn't have a sword.

...And yet.

It's Crowley who protects. He's the one who paces, who stands guard, who circles Aziraphale and glares out at the world, just daring anyone else to come near.

In light of everything else I've said here, I think that's interesting.

Obviously part of it is that Aziraphale enjoys it and, you know, good for him. He's living his best life, no doubt no doubt no doubt. But what about Crowley? What's driving that behavior, really?

Have you heard the phrase, 'loved to the point of invention'? Well, what if 'the point of invention' was where you started? What if where you end up involves glaring out at the world, just daring anyone else to come near? What is that, in relation to the bright-eyed thing you used to be?

What do we name the point to which Crowley loves Aziraphale?

...Thinking about how an excitable angel with three million pages of star design he wants to tell you all about...becomes a guard dog. Is all.

[mangocheesecakes]

Doing this "Filipino Literature in exchange for donations to Palestinian families" project during the start of the ao3 donation drive and only getting a grand total of one (1) proof of donation submitted while the fanfiction slop website gets over $200,000 and counting really brings home, above all, the fucked up priorities of all of you fAnDom-FaNdoM people during a literal genocide but also how juvenile your tastes in reading material is and how much you all lack commitment to actually seeking out so-called "marginalized voices" in art and literature.

I could not be more digusted, but I'm gonna keep going. Helping get aid to families in Gaza is what matters.

Hello, I am reading Filipino short stories, and in exchange for a minimum £5 donation to the fundraisers below, you can listen to me read it:

Karam's fundraiser, last donation 7 days ago:

Ismail's fundraiser, only 2 donations in the last 12 hours:

Rewaa and @mohamedmoner1994 's fundraiser, last donation 3 hours ago:

@yousefmoner's fundraiser, last donation 2 hours ago:

I will be reading another, different short story this week. Please look out for the posts I will make about it in the following days.

Please let this incentivize you into donating to Mohamed and Yousef's families above, but if you really have no interest in what I'm doing and would still rather read your fanfiction, at the very least be motivated by compassion for these families, and don't give any more money to the already $200,000-rich fanfic site.

Below is an audio excerpt of my recording for the story last week. I sent a full copy to the one user who submitted proof of donation, but you can still listen to the whole thing if you want. Just donate, send an ask with the screenshot, and indicate you would like to receive THIS particular story:

Content Warnings:

A slur for Romani people is used once to refer to one of the characters

Use of an exclamation with racially-charged undertones

🌟🌟🌟🌟🌙🌟🌟🌟🌟

MAY DAY EVE

The old people had ordered that the dancing should stop at ten o’clock but it was almost midnight before the carriages came filing up to the front door, the servants running to and fro with torches to light the departing guests, while the girls who were staying were promptly herded upstairs to the bedrooms, the young men gathering around to wish them a good night and lamenting their ascent with mock sighs and moanings, proclaiming themselves disconsolate but straightway going off to finish the punch and the brandy though they were quite drunk already and simply bursting with wild spirits, merriment, arrogance, and audacity, for they were young bucks newly arrived from Europe; the ball had been in their honor; and they had waltzed and polka-ed and bragged and swaggered and flirted all night and were in no mood to sleep yet—no, caramba, not on this moist tropic eve! Not on this mystic May eve!—with the night still young and so seductive that it was madness not to go out, not to go forth—and serenade the neighbors! cried one; and swim in the Pasig! cried another; and gather fireflies! cried a third—whereupon there arose a great clamor for coats and capes, for hats and canes and they were presently stumbling out among the medieval shadows of the foul street where a couple of street lamps flickered and a last carriage rattled away upon the cobbles while the blind black houses muttered hush-hush, their tiled roofs looming like sinister chessboards against a wild sky murky with clouds, save where an evil young moon prowled about in a corner or where a murderous wind whirled, whistling and whining, smelling now of the sea and now of the summer orchards and wafting unbearable childhood fragrances of ripe guavas to the young men trooping so uproariously down the street that the girls who were disrobing upstairs in the bedrooms scattered screaming to the windows, crowded giggling at the windows, but were soon sighing amorously over those young men bawling below; over those wicked young men and their handsome apparel, their proud flashing eyes, and their elegant mustaches so black and vivid in the moonlight that the girls were quite ravished with love, and began crying to one another how carefree were men but how awful to be a girl and what a horrid, horrid world it was, till old Anastasia plucked them off by the ear or the pigtail and chased them off to bed—while from up the street came the clackety-clack of the watchman’s boots on the cobbles, and the clang-clang of his lantern against his knee, and the mighty roll of his great voice booming through the night: “Guardia sereno-o-o! A las doce han dado-o-o!”

And it was May again, said the old Anastasia. It was the first day of May and witches were abroad in the night, she said—for it was a night of divination, a night of lovers, and those who cared might peer in a mirror and would there behold the face of whoever it was they were fated to marry, said the old Anastasia as she hobbled about picking up the piled crinolines and folding up shawls and raking slippers to a corner while the girls climbing into the four great poster beds that overwhelmed the room began shrieking with terror, scrambling over each other and imploring the old woman not to frighten them.

“Enough, enough, Anastasia! We want to sleep!”

“Go scare the boys instead, you old witch!”

“She is not a witch, she is a maga. She was born on Christmas Eve!”

“St. Anastasia, virgin and martyr.”

“Huh? Impossible! She has conquered seven husbands! Are you a virgin, Anastasia?”

“No, but I am seven times a martyr because of you girls!”

“Let her prophesy, let her prophesy! Whom will I marry, old gypsy? Come, tell me.”

“You may learn in a mirror if you are not afraid.”

“I am not afraid, I will go!” cried the young cousin Agueda, jumping up in bed.

“Girls, girls—we are making too much noise! My mother will hear and will come and pinch us all. Agueda, lie down! And you, Anastasia, I command you to shut your mouth and go away!”

“Your mother told me to stay here all night, my grand lady!”

“And I will not lie down!” cried the rebellious Agueda, leaping to the floor. “Stay, old woman. Tell me what I have to do.”

“Tell her! Tell her!” chimed the other girls.

The old woman dropped the clothes she had gathered and approached and fixed her eyes on the girl. “You must take a candle,” she instructed, “and go into a room that is dark and that has a mirror in it and you must be alone in the room. Go up to the mirror and close your eyes and say:

Mirror, mirror,

show to me

him whose woman

I will be.

If all goes right, just above your left shoulder will appear the face of the man you will marry.”

A silence. Then: “And what if all does not go right?” asked Agueda.

“Ah, then the Lord have mercy on you!”

“Why?”

“Because you may see—the Devil!”

The girls screamed and clutched one another, shivering.

“But what nonsense!” cried Agueda. “This is the year 1847. There are no devils anymore!” Nevertheless she had turned pale. “But where could I go, huh? Yes, I know! Down to the sala. It has that big mirror and no one is there now.”

“No, Agueda, no! It is a mortal sin! You will see the devil!”

“I do not care! I am not afraid! I will go!”

“Oh, you wicked girl! Oh, you mad girl!”

“If you do not come back to bed, Agueda, I will call my mother.”

“And if you do I will tell her who came to visit you at the convent last March. Come, old woman—give me that candle. I go.”

“Oh, girls—come and stop her! Take hold of her! Block the door!”

But Agueda had already slipped outside; was already tip-toeing across the hall; her feet bare and her dark hair falling down her shoulders and streaming in the wind as she fled down the stairs, the lighted candle sputtering in one hand while with the other she pulled up her white gown from her ankles.

She paused breathless in the doorway to the sala and her heart failed her. She tried to imagine the room filled again with lights, laughter, whirling couples, and the jolly jerky music of the fiddlers. But, oh, it was a dark den, a weird cavern, for the windows had been closed and the furniture stacked up against the walls. She crossed herself and stepped inside.

The mirror hung on the wall before her; a big antique mirror with a gold frame carved into leaves and flowers and mysterious curlicues. She saw herself approaching fearfully in it: a small white ghost that the darkness bodied forth—but not willingly, not completely, for her eyes and hair were so dark that the face approaching in the mirror seemed only a mask that floated forward; a bright mask with two holes gaping in it, blown forward by the white cloud of her gown. But when she stood before the mirror she lifted the candle level with her chin and the dead mask bloomed into her living face.

She closed her eyes and whispered the incantation. When she had finished such a terror took hold of her that she felt unable to move, unable to open her eyes, and thought she would stand there forever, enchanted. But she heard a step behind her, and a smothered giggle, and instantly opened her eyes.

[fgumi]

⋆˙⟡♡ CHALANT

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 { PAIRING; non-idol!jaehyun x reader, GENRE; fluff, uni!au, headcanon, WC; 2.1k, WARNING(S); mildly suggestive, A/N; oh to be loved by chalant myung jaehyun. TAGS; @onedoornet @en-dream @heeheesang @httpenhoon @r1kification @seungheartyou, @starfallia @sugarikiz @hoondolls @prettyange1 @bee-the-loser @pumpkg @lucky-wy @leehanwish}

chalant!myungjae has never been shy about his crush on you. hell, he made it a public affair. anyone and everyone knew about it, including you. you didn’t really know what to think. this good-looking guy was openly proclaiming that he’s interested in you. it sounded like a trap, something that’d hurt you. at first, it was just words. people that knew you both would comment.

“did you know myung jaehyun likes you?” “can you tell your boyfriend to shut up about you?”

he’s not my boyfriend, you’d reply. you started feeling bad for these people at some point. here’s this guy that you knew next to nothing about and he’s talking people’s ears off about how he’s so in love with you. what is he so in love with? he’s never even talked to you. when it was people that you mutually knew, you didn’t think much of it. but then, there were strangers coming up to you.

“uh, are you y/n?” yes. “this dude, jaehyun, is like really into you. he would not stop talking about you at the party.”

so i’ve heard, you’d say. how is this guy telling everyone but you? you started getting annoyed, so annoyed that you finally confronted him. you tried to avoid when he was with his friends, not wanting to embarrass the guy further, but he was always with someone. so, one day, when you spotted him in the library, you decided that enough was enough. you marched right up to his table. what about me are you so in love with? you asked.

if anyone else said that and others overheard, they’d think you were crazy and narcissistic. but, because it was you, no one batted an eye. actually, they all leaned closer, hoping that this was the day jaehyun would finally shut up about you. jaehyun’s face went from shocked to goofy. he had this lopsided grin when he started.

“what’s there not to love? you’re insanely smart—i’ve seen the way you lead discussion sections. you’re really kind—you helped all those freshmen pass genetics even though you were clearly stressed about your stuff. you’re very particular about your drinks, but not in a rude way—i hear you apologizing to baristas about how specific your order is and then you leave a big fat tip. you love the sun. i always catch you sunbathing in the quad around 2pm after class—i swear i’m not stalking you! i just have a class in the quad. you’re funny—the side-eyes you give the people saying the dumbest things make me giggle. you—” you get it.

gosh, if only you could hide further into your hoodie. your face was bright red. all his friends were giving you exasperated looks, as if to say “please go out with him so he’ll finally shut up.” you didn’t realize you ran into him that much. you were constantly stressed, rushing to class, that people were just blurred faces to you. you barely managed to make eye contact with jaehyun and then you saw. he looked at you like you held the answer to all his prayers.

“if i take you on a date, will you stop bothering people about how you’re so in love with me?” you muttered. then, this guy has the gawl to shake his head. “absolutely not. but! i’ll shut up for a day.”

his friends nodded rapidly, begging you with their whole bodies to do it. a day was better than anything, they supposed. so, you asked him out. jaehyun’s grin couldn’t get any wider.

chalant!myungjae stayed true to his word and never shut up about you after that one (blissful) day. just like before, he talked about you with anyone that’d give him the time, even your professors. because you were in the same major, you and jaehyun had the same classes, just not the same section (much to jaehyun’s dismay). so, he’d hang back a few until you arrived so he could give you his notes.

“it’s a preview! so you don’t have to rush to catch everything.”

in those few minutes that you take to arrive, jaehyun’s talking to your professor.

“you should totally make my girlfriend, y/n, your ta! she’s always the top scorer and is helping out other people anyways!” “this is us on our second date. look at how pretty she is! i think she’s the love of my life.” “do you think you could transfer me into this section so i could be with her?” no, they’d say exhaustedly.

if your professors were at all bitter, they would’ve hated you. having to hear about you so much was tiring. but, they all appreciated love when they saw it—or, in this case, heard it. though they didn’t let it show too much, they did tend to favor you after hearing how much you enjoyed the class and helped others. you were certainly helping their ratemyprofessor scores.

chalant!myungjae was a confident person. but, he was never more confident than the times he could acceptably brag that he was your boyfriend.

you took part in dancing as an extracurricular, something that helped college be a little more bearable. because of this, you had performances and recitals. these were college events that jaehyun could finally look forward to.

he always came early just so he could grab a front seat. he was always the loudest, cheering you on whenever you were on stage. when he felt like he wasn’t loud enough, he forced his friends to come along. at one point, he made t-shirts for all of them to wear. we’re here with y/n’s boyfriend. of course, he wore his own shirt. y/n’s boyfriend on the back and the cutest (you didn’t find it all that cute) picture he had of you adorning the front. he was very very proud to be your boyfriend. and, of course, he needed to get you the world’s biggest bouquet every time. you told him that he didn’t need to get you such expensive flowers every time, but he shook his head.

“these aren’t expensive compared to what i really wanted to get you.”

later, you found out that he wanted to get you a thousand lilies of the valleys, your favorite. every time. you scolded him about it, saying how you were broke college students and couldn’t afford things like that.

to that, he said, “yet.”

chalant!myungjae didn’t care for possessing things, you included (because women aren’t possessions, he said), but, man, did he love being possessed by you. anything he could get to let people know he was yours, he’d have. his lockscreen? you. his desktop picture? you. he even had one of those photocard holders attached to his backpack with a polaroid of you. he had half the mind to get the big photocard holders, but he didn’t think you’d like that (you told him that was embarrassing). it didn’t stop at just pictures, though. he even bought himself a necklace with your last name attached. you asked him why he didn’t get your first name or even a necklace for you with his name.

“i want to take your last name! and i didn’t want to buy you something like that without your explicit permission.”

you just sighed adoringly. shouldn’t he have asked your permission for his necklace then?

chalant!myungjae wasn’t just all for show. he also did things that were less noticeable—like having a hair tie around his wrist at all times. you always managed to lose yours and were put out whenever you couldn’t put your hair up. when he saw your cute little pout, he vowed to always make sure you had a hair tie available to you whenever you were together (even if he loved your pout).

another thing he did was carry around a second hoodie—for himself, of course. sure, it made his backpack bulky, but you were worth it. there were days that you’d think the weather was going to be a mild temperature or the buildings weren’t going to blast the ac, so you’d opt out of bringing a sweater. but, when you sadly realized that it was freezing, he’d hand you his hoodie—the one that he was already wearing. you mentioned in passing how much you liked wearing his clothes, but only when they smelled like him, so he always gave you whatever he was wearing at the time and put the second hoodie on (that way you couldn’t say no with the reason that he’d be cold).

chalant!myungjae was always respectful towards women. his mother raised him right after all. there were times though when he wasn’t. like, when he’s getting hit on. you never said anything, never showed an ounce of insecurity. but, he made it his mission to get these girls away from him.

on your late-night outings, both of you dressed up. you looked good. you were bound to attract attention. but, one thing you told jaehyun from the start was that you wouldn’t subject your friends to feeling like they were with a couple when you went out. so, he let you do your thing while he did his. you guys always danced in the club near each other. that’s why you were privy to seeing him turn people away. in an odd fashion.

there were times he’d bark at them. there were times he’d act like he batted for the other team. there were times he’d point at you and show them that he was a taken man. but, the one time this girl didn’t catch the hints—the necklace, the photocard, his lockscreen, his blatant denial—everyone was in for a show.

“your girlfriend doesn’t have to know,” the girl purred, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. you see this happening out of the corner of your eye. you just said a silent prayer for her because you knew jaehyun was about to embarrass her. what you didn’t know was how.

he scoffed. “i tell her everything, even my poop schedule. she’ll know.”

the girl didn’t back off. “well, i don’t see her. she left you here all alone with me. can’t i just have you for the night?”

she’s persistent, you’ll give her that. that’s when you feel someone pull you away from your friends. you’re spun around and a kiss was planted on your lips. your eyes widened before you realized it was jaehyun. you let yourself enjoy the kiss, thinking it was going to be short. but it wasn’t. it was one of the most mind-blowing kisses jaehyun has ever given you. if you were sobering up, jaehyun’s kiss pulled you right back into a haze. he cradled your neck, kissing you deeper, as his other hand pulled you closer. even when the girl finally got the hint and left, he didn’t let you go. if anything, he seemed to take it as his cue to continue. when you heard your friends cheering you on, you let this be the exception to your one rule. when you finally pulled away for air, a string of saliva followed you. you just blinked at him while he had this goofy grin on his face.

“sorry, i had to show her who my girlfriend was.”

safe to say, he didn’t let you go for the rest of the night and you didn’t mind one bit.

chalant!myungjae didn’t really post on his social media. sure, he was active on it, liking his friends’ posts and yours (obviously). he became really active on it once you started dating. jaehyun skipped the soft launch and went straight into the hard launch. every story he posted, his friends could bet that it was going to be you with some corny caption about how much he loved you or how lucky he was. when he did post, they’d just be photo dumps from moments with you. at this point, his account became a y/n fan account. if anyone were to stalk him, trying to see if he was taken or not, they’d know immediately. in his bio, he had your user. his pinned post was your first anniversary date, where you looked absolutely stunning. his profile picture? it was the two of you.

oh, and was he in your comments.

first! i would’ve built rome in a day for you had to pick my jaw off the ground i won’t you. bad. i’m framing this something’s wet and i move my phone to my left hand…

ya... he was getting creative with his comments.

chalant!myungjae makes sure that you know, and the world knows, how much he loves you. he’ll never let a single doubt enter your mind about how he feels about you. you are his girl and he is very much your boy.

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idol. this is purely fiction. ✧ comments and reblogs are appreciated! ✧ give my other works a read too!

[mushroom-words]

Intertwining Souls || Poly!WolfStar

Fandom: Harry Potter (Marauders)

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader x Sirius Black

Words: 2054

Notes: As usual, I will fix the formatting once I get on my laptop. And I’d like to thank the lovely @daydreamandforget for not only finding amusement in the boys’ pesky little flea problem in my other work Pest Control but for also inspiring me to explore it a little bit more. Also, if anyone has any ideas or requests for this particular pairing, please feel free to drop them by me. I love Poly!WolfStar with my entire being but have been dreadfully unsuccessful in thinking of situations to write about.

Warnings: Light dom/sub elements. Pet names. Dom!Remus & switch!Sirius if you squint. Reader is referred to as a girl with she/her pronouns but all other descriptions are neutral. Polyamorous relationship (if that wasn’t already clear).

Summary: You’ve been neglecting your sleep to take care of everyone else. Just when Remus is finally able to care for you instead, Sirius tracks in a bigger problem.

YOU WERE READY to fall asleep right where you were. It was all very lulling—the crackling of the fireplace a few feet away, the scent of cinnamon and sandalwood, the gentle brush of his fingers against your temple, and the cadence of his voice reading aloud to you. Your eyes drifted closed as you let yourself be blanketed in the warm environment.

The last week was particularly draining for you. Between your duties with work and the Order, and caring for Remus through the lunar cycle, you were running on fumes. Your boyfriends were absolutely lovely when it came to helping you through the stress and exhaustion, but it was that certain type of fatigue that could only be nurtured away with time and patience.

Remus paused to check in when he felt your breathing even out. He smiled softly and swept some hair behind your ear to get a better look at your face. The worry lines had smoothed out, lashes delicately brushing your cheekbones, muted breaths pushing past your marginally parted lips as you slipped deeper into sleep.

He debated for a moment whether to let you rest a bit longer in his lap or risk waking you by carrying you to bed. He was just about to put his book down when the front door was prodded open, a black snout nosing it open to make way for the large dog to come indoors. The animal nudged the door shut before shaking himself of the light downpour that had started not five minutes prior to his return.

Remus sighed quietly. “Must you always do that, Pads?” he complained, though a fond note softened the cross tone. “We’ve talked about this.”

Shifting back into human form, the Animagus merely grinned at his boyfriend’s annoyance. “Y’know I can’t help myself, Moons. ‘S in my nature.”

The other man rolled his eyes but let it go. He knew well that with Sirius Orion Black, it was wise to pick your battles—and this wasn’t one he wanted to rehash with you trying to catch up on some well-earned rest.

“Nice run?” he asked, moving his hand to trace his fingers along your arm.

“Definitely.” Sirius absently scratched his head and made his way over to the overstuffed sofa. His eyes drifted to you, adoration softening his jovial expression. “Aww, look at her. Ain’t she just adorable, Moony?” he cooed.

“She is,” Remus agreed, watching as you sighed softly and shifted. “Careful—don’t wake her,” he warned when Sirius reached for you. “She just fell asleep.”

“I’m not gonna wake her.” Sirius grazed his knuckles down the contour of your cheek. Despite his promise, your lashes fluttered at the touch.

You nuzzled against Remus’ legs before prying your eyes open, blinking through the haze to focus on your boyfriend. A sleepy smile notched on your face. “G’morning, Siri,” you mumbled.

Sirius chuckled and bent to kiss your forehead. “It’s late, bunny,” he said. “We should get you to bed.”

“No, no. ‘M awake.” You slowly pushed yourself up, still blinking the sleep from your eyes. The boys chuckled affectionately at your tired state.

“Dove,” Remus cooed, using an arm to bring you into his side, smiling when you melted into him. “You’re exhausted. Let’s get you in bed, yeah?”

You shook your head, dropping it to rest on his shoulder. “Wanna stay with you,” you argued. “‘M not sleepy anymore.”

“Liar,” Sirius crooned, scratching at his head a bit more intensely. He wasn’t even aware he was doing it, but it caught the attention of his partners.

Remus lifted a brow. “You okay, love?”

“Hmm?” Sirius snapped his gaze to him, pausing before lowering his hand. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good, mate.”

You frowned slightly, vision clearing a bit more as you eyed your boyfriend. His fingers twitched across his thigh like he was fighting the urge to scratch, curling and unfurling in increments.

You lifted your head from your other boyfriend’s shoulder. “Siri?”

“What’s wrong, sweet girl?”

Your attention was stolen away from his cautious expression by a small dark speck that abruptly appeared on the sofa. All traces of lingering sleepiness bled from your system when that little fleck jumped away. A twinge of irritation replaced it, breathing acuity into your mind.

Remus’ forehead creased as he tracked the movement. He snapped his attention back to Sirius, studying the way he shifted on the sofa, his nails digging into his trousers as he resumed scratching at himself. His focus honed into another tiny dot crawling on the sleeve of his jumper.

You pinched your lips together. “You have fleas. Again.”

Sirius’ eyes rounded, gaze darting away from you warily. “Don’t be silly, bunny. What makes you say that?” he asked.

“Well, if that wasn’t enough,” Remus said, gesturing towards where he was wildly scratching at his leg, “this,” he continued, reaching forward to pluck the pest with the tips of his fingers, “is enough proof, if you ask me.”

The flea wiggled around in the clutches of his fingers before Remus promptly rolled it between his nails, popping the exoskeleton with precision. He raised his brows at his boyfriend expectantly.

Sirius spluttered for a moment, heat flushing his cheeks. “Well—that’s—how do you know it’s from me?” he argued. “The full moon was two nights ago—it could’ve come from you, y’know! Or—or maybe…”

He trailed off as he clocked the pointed looks from both of his partners, neither you nor Remus particularly amused.

“Okay, fine!” He threw his hands up in the air before scratching at his neck. “I have fleas! It’s to be expected from time to time!”

Remus sighed and stood from the sofa, grabbing the other man’s arm. “C’mon, love. We’re taking care of it before it gets worse.”

He hauled Sirius up and started dragging him towards the bathroom. You watched with mild amusement as Sirius blanched. His fingers grappled at the wall, finding purchase near the doorframe. So dramatic, you mused to yourself with a heavy roll of your eyes.

“We? No, thank you.” Sirius jerked back, causing Remus to halt as his purposeful stride was interrupted. “I can bathe myself, thank you very much.”

You groaned at his theatrics and rose from the sofa. “Not in your Animagus form, you can’t,” you reminded him.

“Well, I won’t bathe in my Animagus form then, will I?”

“Padfoot,” Remus said sternly, though not without an affectionate lilt, “you know the flea shampoo won’t work otherwise.”

Sirius looked back at you as you sidled up to their stalemate, eyes wide and imploring. “Bunny, please, I’m begging you—don’t let him do this to me.”

You leveled him with a dour look. “I’m already gonna have to treat the flat and Remmy again in the morning,” you told him. “Get in the bath—or you can sleep in the garden tonight and we’ll bathe you in the morning anyway.”

A dark look of hopeless betrayal flashed in his gaze. “I can’t believe this,” he pouted. “You two are being unfair.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “C’mon, Pads. Let’s get it over with,” he encouraged, tugging Sirius away from the doorframe. “Dove, why don’t you go on to bed? We’ll be in as soon as he’s defleaed.”

Normally you might insist on helping wrangle the uncooperative Animagus into the tub, but now that you’d have to wake up earlier in order to get the flat in order, you knew it was probably best that you rested for the night. So you nodded your head, covering your mouth just as a yawn broke through, like your body knew that Remus had declared your bedtime.

“Sure, yeah, go right on to bed,” Sirius grumbled. “Pay no mind to my suffering.”

You gave a tired smile. “Your suffering will end once you’re not being eaten alive,” you countered, knowing he always felt better after a flea bath despite how difficult it was to wrestle him into one. “G’night, Siri. Love you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Love you too, bunny.” He continued to moan but couldn’t ignore the wave of affection when you pressed your lips to his in a sweet kiss.

“Sweet dreams, dove.” Remus, maintaining a firm grip on your disgruntled boyfriend, swooped down to kiss you goodnight. “And don’t wait up for us. You need to get some rest,” he added a bit more austerely, giving your bottom a solicitous pat to send you on your way.

You shuffled to your bedroom, looking forward to snuggling beneath the duvet and letting the plush mattress lull you into sleep. But as you settled into the empty bed, you knew you wouldn’t be able to actually kip down without your boyfriends. So you just closed your eyes and listened to their scuffling while you waited.

“This is a cruel and unusual punishment. You’re a bloody sadist.”

“Oh, stop being so dramatic. It’ll be quick.”

“Why don’t you ever have to take flea baths?”

“Because they don’t make baths big enough for werewolves, Pads. Go on then.” A soft laugh interrupted the bickering. “No, kissing me won’t change my mind. Get in.”

“I’ll never forgive you for this.”

“You’ll live, I’m afraid.” A few seconds ticked by, followed by a teasing, “That’s a good boy.”

An indignant, grumbling bark was the response.

You huffed out a fond giggle and rolled over onto your side. Your eyelids felt heavy against your sockets, like you wouldn’t be able to reopen them even if you tried, but sleep evaded you just as you predicted. It was quite pathetic really—you’d become so accustomed to having at least one of your boys with you as you slept that it was nearly impossible to sleep without their warmth curled around you.

It was one of many silly little side effects of loving so deeply your souls intertwined. A love so deep that it completed you, spilling into the pits denting your heart and filling them to the brim and then some. You honestly hadn’t known you could love another person quite so much until the boys graciously showed you.

You’d lost track of time as you lied there mulling over the ridiculous way you continued to fawn over your partners like a schoolgirl with a crush. You were snapped back into reality by the low murmurs and footsteps entering the bedroom.

“You think she’s asleep?” Sirius whispered.

“Hopefully,” Remus replied quietly. “She’s been exhausted.”

“Sweet girl’s running herself ragged.”

Muted shuffling around the space told you they were dressing down for the night. Then, slowly, the bed dipped on either side of you as they finally joined you. Remus settled at your back, draping a gentle arm around your torso and pulling you into his chest, while Sirius crawled to lie facing you, slender fingers running through your hair tenderly.

You sighed contentedly and let a small smile give yourself away.

Remus clicked his tongue when you shifted back against him. “You’re supposed to be asleep, dove,” he whispered, planting a few tender kisses to the slope of your neck.

“‘M supposed to be a lot of things,” you murmured, tilting your head up when you felt Sirius’ fingers glide down your jaw, “but I live to disappoint.”

The boys seemed to move in sync, free hands drifting down to pinch your hip and thigh affectionately. “Oi,” Sirius chuckled quietly, “that’s my job, bunny.”

You hummed and cracked your eyes open, peering at him through your lashes. “Feel better, Siri?”

“I will when you get some sleep.” He shuffled closer, kissing you sweetly, starting with a few on the lips and then traveling to the tip of your nose and finally your forehead. His hand squeezed your hip, thumb tracing idle circles against the curve.

Remus’ lips touched the back of your head. “We all will,” he murmured, tightening his hold on you until you were trapped between your boys—not like you ever wanted to be anywhere else.

You smiled again, sleepily letting your eyes flutter closed once more. “I love you.”

Sirius sighed softly, minty breath ghosting across your face. “We love you too. G’night, pretty girl. G’night, Moons,” he said, stretching over you briefly to kiss the werewolf before settling back again.

“Pains in the arse, both of you,” Remus mumbled fondly, voice low with a sleepiness that lulled you into tranquility. “Now shut up and go to sleep.”

[txttletale]

hey what DO you watch on youtube? seems like you'd have some neat recommendations :3

i really loathe the like super-highly edited sound effect post-mrbeast slop most of youtube is now so i mostly like stuff that's like... calm and sedate. stuff i've been watching lately in no particular order:

northernlion vods and clips. he's an OG. i especially like his react court series, i must have watched all of them like five times.

speaking of OGs i've been watching zero puncutation (now fully ramblomatic) for like ten years and if anything it's only gotten better. best game review content on the internet. been really enjoying his more recent, slightly longer and more thoughtful 'extra punctuation/semi-ramblomatic' series too.

any austin's skyrim unemployment rate videos. instant classics to me, it's just a guy going around in skyrim trying to figure out the unemployment rate in every town. it's a very dry kind of humour, he plays it admirably straight, and it's weirdly calming.

kitten arcader's foot the bill videos. in a kind of similar vein, he watches the saw movies and then produces an itemized bill for everything jigsaw needed to buy to make his traps. it's kind of like... if cinemasins was fundamentally curious instead of fundamentally incurious, it scratches a similar sort of nitpicky detail-oriented quantifying itch but without inimical to the concept of art.

shuffle up and play. it's a magic the gathering play series that has enough editing that the gamestate is actually legible but not enough editing (or at least, not enough obtrusive in-your-face editing) that its annoying. i also like that they reguilarly play non-edh formats like cube and pauper.

spice8rack. i'm pretty picky about video essays but spice8rack has very obviously actually read books and has interesting things to say about the topics it discusses (mostly magic: the gathering). sometimes it has a kind of grating Theater Kid Energy but the fact that it actually meaningfully structures essays and analysis to earn the silly long runtimes is a rare delight from a video essayist.

jenny nicholson is a long-time favourite and another permanent fixture in my rotation. she's just extremely, remarkably funny which makes her the only 'basically just summarizing a thing' youtuber i think is worth the time of day.

i watch some sketch comedy, mainly wizards with guns and aunty donna, who both consistently put out really funny stuff that's kind of ITYSL-adjacent in its barefaced absurdism and contenmpt for concepts like "stopping a joke at the logical punchline". i also really like alasdair beckett-king and binging the old clickhole backlog for short-form comedy on youtube.

wolfeyvgc is right on the edge of the level of editing i find tolerable but as a long-time fan of multiple esports he Has It, he's absolutelyt fantastic at t elling the narrative of a tournament, explaining plays clearly, and generally making competitive pokemon esports thrilling and interesting ti someone (me) who#s never played it and doesn't care about pkoemon that much

i religously watch every elliespectacular/dathings YTP, the absolute best in the game right now, top tier snetence mixing and really good at actually setting up and paying off jokes in a way it feels like a lot of ytp doesn't. verytallbart is also pretty good.

trapperdapper is a channel i recently binged, it's a really fucking funny parody of minecraft challenge content that veers slowly from obvious angles of parody into pure absurdism with tons of blink-and-you'll miss it subtle visual gags.

too much future is a great youtube series where the two guys from just king things/homestuck made this world play through every fallout game and analyze them in that context. extremely funny and also just top-tier very sharp analysis. really good

another one of the rare good video essayists is jan misali. they're really funny and will go into topics that kind of seem narrow or strange to begin with in such depth and make them so interesting that it's consistently astonishing.

oh and finally sarah z makes pretty good videos. 'the narcissist scare' is an absolutely brilliant deconstruction of one of the most annoying pop-psych phenomena of the last couple years. and remarkably well script supervised i think did anyone else watch it and think 'wow the script supervisor on this must have been, a mind geniuse'

ok i think that's all i've been watching lately. hope you like whcihever of these recs you check out :)

[lets-try-some-writing]

I would die for some more rambles on the trio and Fowler and June trying to understand the bots culture like a misunderstanding on something that’s completely normal for the bots.

Pssssst also love your new angsty writing on emergency protocols! Fully satisfying my dark soul! Keep up the great work

There is an unspoken understanding that when a bot is undergoing a reboot, one is to follow a particular set of procedures.

Normally when a bot goes to recharge, they can be treated as if asleep. Smaller and speed based frame types only require an hour or two every cycle to be up and ready to move. Larger or more cognitively engaged frames need a few cycles every stellar cycle to get their frames in order. But even with their differences, recharge is still recharge. A bot can be woken with enough sensory data.

However, when it comes to full reboots things are quite different. As such, there are different rules to follow.

Once every few stellar cycles, or vorns in larger frames, it is recommended that a bot undergo a reboot to allow their systems to recalibrate and for protocols usually active while in recharge to temporarily shut down. It is the closest most bots come to death outside of war since, for a short period, rebooting leaves a bot all but totally lost to reality save for the continued burning of their spark. They are perfectly fine so long as they are in a safe location and can spend the necessary Earth week to a month resetting and getting everything in order internally. But other are still required to be careful while their comrade remains unavailable.

Generally, the bot who is undergoing a reboot is quietly placed somewhere out of the way but still able to be overseen. A friend or trusted individual will then be sure to clean them up as their frame expels any used oils, substances, or fluids. Energon then has to be injected into the rebooting bot's frame at select times so as to not interrupt their frame's natural functions. And most importantly, those watching over the bot undergoing a reboot have to nearby to make sure everything is secure as a bot starts to come out of their reboot and their frame runs through all normal functions one at a time before waking entirely. To organics, this process might come across as frightening. But for Cybertronians, it is normal. In fact, those who fail to undergo regular reboots tend to suffer from increased chances of coming down with anything and everything. So for them, it is the same as getting a spa day and REM sleep all at once.

Of course, with this said, the kids, Fowler, and June were not at all prepared when Ratchet dropped like a box of rocks at the console.

Reboots are almost always scheduled, especially with the war. But Ratchet, ever a loyal medic, refused to reboot since arriving on Earth. He watched over Optimus and the others when they had theirs, but he never took the chance for himself. Thus, his frame took matters into its own servos and opted to shut him down for a reboot without warning. He went slack against his console, his optics going dark and his entire body giving out as he fell to the floor soon after. His vents slowed and fluttered closed, his armor loosened, and he lay there, the very embodiment of deceased by any human standard.

Rafael rightfully bolted to the ground with a shriek, trying to help Ratchet and screeching about heart, or spark attacks. Jack bolted to get one of the bots with Fowler while Miko and June tried in vain to assess the situation. The message conveyed to the team frightened them to their cores as they frantically turned tail on their scouting mission, rushing back to base. From what Jack and Fowler conveyed, Ratchet was unresponsive and to their knowledge, seemingly dead. That was enough for the team to skid into the base the moment the ground bridge opened. Optimus all but chucked Arcee out of the way in his haste.

But the moment they saw what was going on and gathered around Ratchet and a very distraught Rafael, the team sagged in relief. The gathered humans could be seen gawking as Optimus smiled fondly, gently nudged Rafael away, and gathered Ratchet up like a sack of potatoes to lay him on the medical berth. June, Fowler, and the children had questions aplenty but were silenced with reassurance that Ratchet was undergoing something normal.

They were soothed, but they were certainly left confused when Ratchet just... laid there. He looked dead. He acted dead. And after about a day, he started leaking fluids that made him smell very dead. For a while, Miko and Rafael were convinced that the team legitimately were just fine with Ratchet having died and must have expected it or something. Despite all of Optimus's reassurance, they may or may not have sobbed quietly after watching Bumblebee wipe Ratchet down and polish his armor. There was talk between June and Fowler of strange funeral rites. Only Jack seemed alright. He looked at the situation and chalked it up to bots being odd. After all, he'd seen real grief in them through Arcee's lamentations regarding Cliffjumper. Whatever was going on with Ratchet was fine, if more than a little assaulting to the nose.

Just as the humans were beginning to accept Ratchet's 'death' and offer condolences to the team, Ratchet twitched. Rafael nearly passed out the moment Ratchet's frame began to reset, rhythmic tapping and the odd sound or two escaping his vocalizer between frantic kicking only stilled when Optimus held Ratchet down for a bit. There was momentary worry that maybe the corpse was infected with dark energon. But the moment Rafael finally got around to messing with the console and reading spark signatures, he eased dramatically. Ratchet was in fact alive, just... asleep?

The humans, save for Jack, were befuddled. But when Ratchet woke up a few days later looking and acting exceptionally better, they opted to not make a huge fuss. It was explained that what Ratchet underwent was normal, but it didn't stop them from freaking out again when Bumblebee dropped a few weeks later.

[circeyoru]

Twisted Killings

[Solo Leveling x Homicipher MC!Reader - Crossover]

Related Story: Idea 1 (Jinah's school dungeon break incident)

Note: This is different from {Other Other World} but the concept is the same where Reader/you are the MC of Homicipher and got sent into the world of Solo Leveling. There’s no particular pairing cause there are the Homicipher guys as your Pokemon already.

The Hunters Association was founded by an S-Rank Hunter, funded and sponsored by the same person who was now dubbed the Chairman, that person was Go Gunhee. He was well-respected and knew the world of power and authority not in terms of physical strength, but also the workings of corporates and those that are placed in higher power like the government or politicians.

This establishment had a few key focuses or purposes as the Chairman would say. One, to be a pillar of support for the citizens and Hunters alike, a neutral party that would strive the benefit of the country. Two, to be a shield against the outside force that aimed to take advantage of the weak-hearted or lower-ranked Hunters. Three, to be a monitor or eyes for all things related to Hunters and Gates. And finally, four, to be the weapon that keeps those with ill intent in check, namely the Hunters who have awakened and fancied themselves a god among mortals.

However grand the goals are, they were nothing when it was only one person within the Association. One person can’t be the one to change the world―at least Chairman Go knew he didn’t have that power and capability to do so. Perhaps one day, he’d meet someone of that stature, but right now, his focus was on the foundation of the Association.

Recruitment was easy and hard. There were those that would follow him to the ends of the Earth, and then those would oppose this establishment. Talented individuals usually find themselves independent and prideful, not wanting to work under someone and listen to orders. It was the restriction that made it all the more difficult to recruit such individuals. The Association was set up to be an honourable and praiseworthy organization, so mingling with this would be like turning into a priest or a nun. To be professional and righteous.

“It’s not much but I can offer you a home.” Go Gunhee spoke softly, his hands behind his back as he stood in the rundown abandoned shack in the forest. “A place to work and a place to strive.”

“I have no interest in that.” Your figure perched on a small hilltop of stacked wooden furniture pieces, the rain droplets slipping through the cracks to drip onto your raincoat. The hood of your dirty raincoat shadowed your face, leaving only a bandaged mouth and nose to the intruder that followed you all the way here. You gripped onto your crowbar as you glared down at him. “Leave before you regret ever following me.”

Your tone was borderline threatening for anyone who heard it. However, it serves as a warning. The rain washed away the blood and gore of beasts that you and your companions hunted for you to feast on, their corpses were still littered around and the flesh was still present. The smell of the forest overpowered that of the slowly rotting flesh, but that wasn’t the point. Focus on the beings surrounding the man he couldn’t dream of ever defeating or purging. 

An obsessive red man with a wide inhuman grin to the side behind you holding a red umbrella over you, his form glitching and distorting from time to time as if holding himself back from attacking―Mr. Scarletella. 

An amused silver-haired man with a dirty lab coat of sorts grinning ear to ear with his head tilted while his hands were behind his back, from your perspective, tortuous tools were held in case of any threat perceived―Mr. Silver. 

An on-guard doglike man with long black hair and dressed in black standing on the slop before you, his usually crawling form and childish grin gone with an aura of alert in his position―Mr. Crawling. 

From the shadows of gaps that made your perch, you knew an observant and calculating man’s eye had been watching everything but never said a word or made a move―Mr. Gap. 

Then, there was the one closest to the human. Your guardian and rock in the worst times, dressed in a worn-down cloak with his hood covering his entire face to the point one could only see darkness, he wielded a menacing executioner’s axe that was half of his size as if prepared to cut the human down―Mr. Hood.

If one were to ask, are there more to your crazy, overpowered, and disturbing companions? Let’s just say there was more to you than meets the eye. These weren’t all of your cards.

From just the atmosphere of the place, one could tell the ringleader wasn’t as harmless as their appearance would show. Gunhee, the leader of an honest institution, couldn’t believe himself, but if he was given another chance, he wouldn’t change anything and would make the same decision over and over. He raised his hand as an offer was presented to you. “Be my association’s officer. You wouldn’t be put into a suit and follow the standard procedures. I will offer you a playground to hunt and kill if you would be my weapon.”

The air shifted, and a grin formed on your face. It was as if it were a synced-up connection, and your companions all grinned alongside you. The crowbar in your hand was swirled around until it was thrown at the Chairman, who was unfazed by it all and stood his ground. You skipped down the hill, patting Mr. Crawling’s head on the way down to Mr. Scarletella’s envy. You stared at the bold man while you retrieved your signature killing tool, Mr. Hood had already stood protectively close to you. In a swift move, you pointed the curve tip in his face with a crazed expression. “If this is a trap… Know that your death won’t be quick and painless.”

“We are to be partners, I believe we benefit from mutual trust.”

Rumours circled in the Hunter’s community forum. After the Hunter Association’s official establishment, Hunters were promptly placed under control, guilds were formed and Hunters were organized into groups and ranks. The most unspoken attention was placed on the Hunters turned criminal or vice versa. Most, if not al,l were curious as to how the Hunter Association would handle that. Let them be sent to a prison? But their Hunter abilities could allow them to break out no question. Charge them? But as a Hunter, earning money had been the fastest among other careers. Monitor them? But with Gates running rampant and the lack of personnel, who would watch them 24/7?

A lone guild was sponsored by the Hunter Association and answered only to the Chairman. Its name was [Other], an exclusive guild that no one knew who its members were, including the guildmaster. Their activity, however, was renowned to all. In simple terms, they were the Hunter Association’s hired assassins or clean-up crew. Their typical work included acting as the strike team to clear unwanted Gates, though their infamous deeds were to pass judgment on those that defied the jurisdiction.

Simple terms?

Killing people.

The Other Guild was one of mystery. Its members and guild master are not only unknown, but recruitment was done in secret and one way. None could approach them or reveal relevant information about the guild itself and its master. Its activities leaked credibility to the point that some would brush it aside and claim that it was something the Hunter Association did to scare Hunters into being more moral and human, not to become the monsters from the Gates.

“It’s raining again…”

“I forgot my umbrella…”

“No football practice?”

“We should be moving to the indoor gym room.”

“I hate the rain, makes you all wet.”

You moved past the students chatting in the hallways with your school bag. Your eyes glanced out the windows to the school’s front gate, spotting a black car parked by the road. Just as you noticed the vehicle, your phone buzzed and you fished it out of your pocket to check the notification. 

STUCK-UP SUNGLASSES GUY: We need to talk.

You left his message on read and placed away your phone. As you were about to walk down the stairs, your hand was called, and you paused to turn your head, spotting your classmate and star student Sung Jinah rushing towards you with an annoying object in her hand. You turned around and backed off to the side so others wouldn’t be staring or complaining about how you two blocked the way. Your eyes stared at her silently while she caught her breath. Once she did, she raised the object for you to take, “You almost forgot your umbrella; it’s pouring outside, don’t want you to be soaked and get sick.”

“I won’t.” You didn’t bother to explain which statement you were implying, nor did you thank her for her kindness. You glared at the object before snapping your eyes back to her, involuntarily making her flinch at attention, “Why don’t you hold onto it? You don’t appear to have one.”

Jinah shook her head and turned to her side to show your her schoolbag behind her back, “My brother packed me one just before I left home today. So I got myself covered.”

You clicked your tongue in annoyance. There went your plan to abandon the freak. You forced a smile on and took the object from her, “Too bad.” You turned to leave school not before saying goodbye to Jinah since she initiated one first. You mumbled, “See you never…”

In your hand was a plain red umbrella that you kept tapping the tip against the floor or any surface as you continued your walk. At the building’s entrance or exit, depending on your travel direction, people were opening and closing their umbrellas, waiting for the rain to lighten up, or just dashing into the rain with their bags over their heads to avoid being soaked. Stepping close to one of the pillars, you harshly swiped the umbrella at the stone structure. Anyone that was near you shuffled away from your radius. Your umbrella opened without issue, and you held it overhead before stepping into the rain.

You opened the passenger slide door without missing a beat and entered the car. You purposefully slammed the car door at the handle of your umbrella, and it closed before you brought it in. To your right appeared Mr. Scarletella with a blushing face and hearts for eyes; to your left was Mr. Crawling, who had been a good boy staying out of sight and patiently waiting for you.

“Guildmaster.” The driver and the one you titled as ‘stuck-up glasses guy’ spoke up. This man, Woo Jinchul, was basically Chairman Go’s right-hand man. An A-Rank Hunter who could have been a celebrity but decided to follow the worthy Chairman and his noble goals, but you’re not one to judge; after all, you are technically following the same man as well.

“Hm?” You hummed with a lack of concern or interest. You opted to play with Mr. Crawling’s hair, straightening it out while he purred and nuzzled into your gentle touch.

“This is serious.” You didn’t need to shift your gaze to know he was staring at you behind his shaded glasses through the rearview mirror with a firm glare that would have threatened your attention―had you been a normal human being that is.

“Just talk, I’m listening.” You’re not really. Selective attention and whatnot.

Jinchul clenched the steering wheel but relented within seconds and stated as calmly and professionally as he could, “Stop playing around and acting like a student when you’re well over that level and age despite appearance. You have to control your guild better. One of your members, Kang Tae-Shik, have caused a scene inside a dungeon. He tried to kill the remaining Hunters during a contracted assassination.”

“So? I’m sure those were criminals.”

“There were reports that other Hunters were partaking in the raid and there were casualties.”

You looked away from Mr. Crawling to give Mister Bossy a look of disinterest. “Like I said, so? Deaths happen daily, if you cared so much, have your Chairman replace me with another guild leader.” You grinned at him with a haunt tilt of your head, your neck making a resounding crack sound though it’s not broken. “I’ll just find some other hunting grounds to work with.”

“You…” Jinchul controlled himself from lashing out. 

Truthfully, he never understood the logic behind bringing someone as manic and bloodthirsty as you into the ranks of the Hunter Association. The Chairman gave you a dirty job, but you accepted that with pride and joy. You have been doing your part in the beginning, though as of late, you have been slipping and couldn’t afford to lose your power and influence. Especially when you control those entities of another world like a mage Hunter with their summons.

That was another point. You weren’t a Hunter. You had no mana when you were being tested, yet you had inhuman capabilities. From speed, strength, to healing and otherworldly communication with your summons. You were human, yet there was always that unsettling aura around you that would make those around you doubt your identity. Still, you were no monster from a Gate. That was certain.

“I don’t mean for you to leave your post. You’re… irreplaceable in the Chairman’s eyes.” Jinchul’s voice trailed off as if he was forced to admit something he strongly disagreed with.

You rolled your eyes at his display; he was acting worse than Mr. Scarletella, and that was shown a lot. “What do you want me to do now?”

“If you can recover the bodies from the Gate and file them in a report, that would be much appreciated.” Jinchul only started the car when you gave a low hum of compliance. The drive to the site was quiet, save for the coos you gave to Mr. Crawling and the yells you snapped at Mr. Scarletella. Though you did try to recall who Kang Tae-Shik was, then you did recall someone by that name you recruited into your guild, but you found him annoying, so you dropped him off to Jinchul to deal with without telling the guy that Mr. Purple Head was one of those twisted Hunter.

Namely, three essential figures supported the Hunter Association’s function. The Chairman, Go Gunhee, who acted as the pillar and shield for citizens and Hunters alike, the figurehead of the organization itself and he obviously held the most influence. The guild master of the Other Guild, you, who acted as the punisher to those that threatened the peace from the shadows. To balance the two was the monitor, Woo Jinchul, who connected the Hunter Association with Hunters; his work was so diverse that one could say he had a hand in everything. 

The two of you were brought together by Gunhee under the reason of work and tolerated each other when the time came to work together. There was some sort of sibling interaction between you two, with Jinchul being the older one and even the Chairman felt like he was taking care of you from time to time. It was odd, but you didn’t care so long as attention wasn’t directly drawn to you and you didn’t have to pay for the kills you made.

“We’re here.” The car stopped and you opened the door to leave. By then the rain had stopped and you merely held onto the umbrella idly after putting on your signature raincoat and pulled the hood over your head to cover your face as always. Mr. Crawling followed behind you, crawling on all fours with a fond smile on his face. This sight was no stranger to the officers of the Hunter Association, but any onlooker would linger their confused and disturbed expression on the display.

You ignored the Hunters and went straight for the officers to get some form of brief report to them. “It has been 40 minutes since the dungeon was cleared and the remaining Hunters reported that the bodies are scattered about. Should we send personnel with you?”

“Don’t bother.” You fixed your outfit and took out a crowbar from your bag, even strapping a dagger behind your back, curtsy of the Chairman after you joined his ranks. You were given more toys to play with and it made your work all the easier. “I’ll be out within 10 minutes or so. If not… I’ll still be out anyways…”

Jinwoo’s eyes widened when Song Chi-Yui took the blame for killing the rogue member and killer, Kang Tae-Shik, even Lee Joohee did the same and went along with the lie. Having time to himself after Jinchul’s warning about Hwang Dongsuk’s younger brother seeking revenge, he thought back to the last words of the defeated assassin class Hunter.

“Your shadow… is connected to the darkness. You will become… as strong as your shadow’s depth in the dark…” Agonizingly, Tae-Shik wheezed as he muttered softly. “In a way… You remind me of my guildmaster… Unsuspecting but strong and terrifyingly deadly… I wonder… if you two will… ever meet…”

Jinwoo wasn’t familiar with Tae-Shik, but he was confused when he said he had a guild master because he was a member of the Hunter Association. So the only answer was that he belonged to the rumoured guild working for the association behind the public’s knowledge, a guild that focused on eradicating the darkness and evils. A necessary evil that people, both citizens and Hunters, disregarded as hearsay to pressure people to obey laws.

Still, that aura around you when you passed by, that aura that screamed murder and violence, that aura that made him question: Are you human? 

Your eyes blinked and your head turned to a particular direction. You spotted a young man staring your way with a thoughtful look. Jinchul had already moved elsewhere with the remainder of the raiding party, so that man that was standing alone had to be someone left unattended because he had nothing to provide, like a suspect that was released back to the public because they were deemed harmless and innocent. Though, you could tell…

For the longest time, you and Jinwoo never crossed each other’s path again until you were called in to verify Jinwoo’s acquisition as an S-Rank Hunter. When the two of you had some time alone, you called him out with a soft yet confident statement. “You’re the one that killed the man, the weakling Kang Tae-Shik.” You stepped closer to him while your ghostly companions shook; they knew who, or at least they could also sense what Jinwoo was. Your dead heart beat like a drum, and your dull eyes sparkled with anticipation, “You have the scent of death around you. You’re familiar with death and murder.” A smile formed on your face as you invaded the frozen man’s space. “Who else did you kill cruelly and coldly?”

“...” Jinwoo can’t tell why he answered you, but he did. Unlike your hyper and eager look of expectancy, his was stoic and indifferent. “Hwang Dongsoo.”

Note: I wanted to do the dark side of the Hunter Association and this crossover was just perfect for it and now we're here. {Other Other World} could be tweaked for the two stories to be connected, but that's only if you guys wanna see that happen. How's this one in your opinion?

𝕮𝖎𝖗𝖈𝖊 𝖄.

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: @rozuburedo @crxscnt @phisen @o-qi-shisme @bunnymysteriously @valeriele3 @ariseverdark @undecidingfate @stoats-a-dork (please let me know if you didn't want to be tagged cause this list is from the 1st idea)

[bits-and-babs]

✦ 𝐎𝐃𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐍 ✦

simon 'ghost' riley x f!reader (delta) | smut, 18+ | 4.1k

summary: you, soap and gaz make a silly bet at ghost's expense for an invaluable prize.

cw: mw3 spoiler free. 141 ridiculousness, humour, attempts to remove the mask resulting in life threatening (not really) injury, mild exhibitionism if you squint, very talkative ghost, 'interrogation' wink wink, unprotected p in v sex, reference to f receiving oral.

ghost mlist | main mlist | taglist

"Y'know, I'm sure as shit that L.t's got brown hair," Soap pipes up in the middle of the silence that had settled inside the safe house. 

The members of Task Force 141 glance up one by one, querying eyes cast Soap's way as the guesstimated observation hangs in the air. It's louder than chopper blades, thudding against your skull and roaring in your ears as you attempt to recall the information you have on Ghost, what little physical attributes you can attribute to him. Each time, you hit a brick wall. The only image conjured in your minds-eye is the black voids of the mask's eyes and the piercing amber of his irises. 

The wind howls outside, battering the windows with Wyoming snow and creeping in through the cracks in the panes. It makes a yowling sound as it slips through the crevices, carrying your memories of Ghost's appearance with it. He truly was like an apparition, there one moment, then gone altogether. 

Gaz's brows crease in the middle, little crevices in the skin showing his mind working over the sentence. 

"He doesn't," he eventually retorts, eyebrow cocked while shaking his head, "He's blonde." 

"What makes you say that?" Price scoffs at his colleague's certainty, "You ever seen his face?"

The silence that follows makes the Captain chuckle. A wordless 'that's what I thought'. 

"You willin' to bet on that?" Soap pushes Gaz with a lopsided smirk. There it is, that ridiculous playfulness that the Scotsman continuously let slip over coms. Simon had once reprimanded him for how it would get him killed– you were almost certain if he continued down this path in particular, he'd be in a box by daylight.

"I am," Gaz counters thoughtlessly, a smug lilt to his tone as he leans the crown of his head back against the rotting wooden wall, "He's got blonde eyelashes. He's gonna have blonde hair."

"What're ya gettin' so close tae him for?" Soap grins wide, loading the new ammunition and hitting a bullseye on the first shot, "You been snoggin' him or somethin'?"

"Lads," Price warns. It's only one word, but it says a lot; 'he'll have your head.' All of you know Simon 'Ghost' Riley well enough to know it's not a joke. Seen enough of the mangled bodies he left behind to know it wouldn't be clean, either. More like he'd hack your skull from your neck, picking out the dullest blade that'd struggle to slot between vertebrae.  

"Bets on, then," Soap continues, white teeth gleaming in the low light, "First to confirm gets the honour of shootin' Hassan between the eyes." 

It's like throwing a match at a body doused in diesel. 

                           ✰

The parameters of this wager are as follows... First: the competition is between you, Soap and Gaz. Price was ruled automatically exempt the moment he admitted he had, indeed, seen Ghost's face. It was a revelation that caused quite a storm- and a promise from Gaz of £100 if he'd tell.

The Captain, quite frankly, told him where to stick it. 

Second: None of you could just ask Ghost himself. That was boring; no fun in that. 

Thirdly, there are no other rules. Acquire the information by any means necessary to claim victory. Perhaps this rule should have been revised- because to say that 141's tactics for getting Ghost to reveal his face were a little unorthodox is an understatement of the highest order. 

Despite his hulking frame, Ghost is like a cunning fox, cognizant of even the slightest changes in energy and hypervigilant of those approaching. The midnight void of his grease paint that frames his eyesockets contrasts the whites of his eyes as they dart back and forth between you all. He appears to have noted the devious scheming, practically hearing the cogs turning in your heads the moment he returned from his watch. Something is amiss, and you know Ghost knows it. 

He says nothing. 

Day One; the grumpy, black-clad special ops soldier sits back in his seat as he crosses his arms over his vast chest, cautiously observing the minute movements the three of you made. He'd bristled when Gaz stood from the sofa simply to enter another room, poised and ready to pounce at whatever fuckery the younger soldier would attempt. 

"Hey, L.t.," Soap's drawl cuts through the humorously tense atmosphere in the room, and you brace yourself for his master plan. "When was the last time ye got a haircut?"

Ghost hesitates. Waits a beat. The silence stretches almost uncomfortably until he answers, thick, bassy voice almost booming in the box room. "What're you playin' at, Johnny?"

Soap shrugs his shoulders, exuding complete nonchalance as he settles into the seat across the table from the hulking mass of man. "Just wondered if the mask ever came off. How do you cut your hair?"

Amusement ripples through you in the sound of a chuckle, both men glancing your way. Ghost peers at you, suspicion pooling thick in his pupils. 

"Shave it," Ghost rumbles bluntly, with an air of finality that leaves no room for argument or for Soap to encourage him to try something stupid like curtain bangs or, God forbid, a mohawk. 

You can't help but grin from ear to ear as you watch the Scotsman's shoulders slump in defeat, already waving a white flag upon seeing how unwilling Ghost is to play whatever stupid game you're all partaking in. Even you can't deny the anxiety that prickles across your nerve endings when you see the way Ghost's biceps flex beneath the camo fabric of his uniform, primed for action. 

When Ghost's aqua irises slide to you, your shoulders shrug comically, putting on the performance of your life to appear as though you had no idea what Johnny was up to. You see the way Ghost's blacked-out eyelids squint in suspicion. He doesn't believe you, but doesn't say as much. 

Day Three and the polite, roundabout tactics had been discarded in favour of the nuclear option. Gaz had tried ambushing Ghost in the shower, opening the door without knocking as if pretending he didn't know the Lieutenant was in there. The door slammed so quickly into his head that an egg had been steadily growing on his forehead for the past hour and a half, blood seeping from his almost certainly broken nose. 

"You'll stay out next time, Bravo 2-6, if you know what's good for you," Ghost had growled through the crack in the door before shutting it with a click of the lock. 

Holding his face and slinking away, mortally wounded, Gaz uttered a humiliated 'Yes, lieutenant'. 

Soap, clearly not having learnt from poor Gaz, decided that the next best option was a trip, so to speak. Executing a ludicrously overexaggerated stumble, Johnny reached out to grab Ghost's mask to 'steady himself' and ultimately drag it from his superior's head. 

Ghost had leapt from his seat with a roar, threatening to send Sergeant MacTavish back to Scotland in a box with the Saltire draped across the lid. The standoff only settled upon Captain Price's barked orders to stand down or hang up the uniform. 

By Day Six, Ghost had bruised your opponent's egos enough that neither Soap nor Gaz dared attempt to peek beneath the mask again. They look at you like you're absolutely bonkers when you finally announce it's your turn to try and tame the beast. 

"Yer fuckin' mad, hen," Johnny grumbled, watching you observe Ghost from across the room. He'd settled on a chair in the corner of the room, ensuring no one could sneak up on him. "You can't seriously be plannin' on-"

"I want Hassan," you shrug, a smile playing on your lips. Though, at this rate, you couldn't care less about the terrorist and the honour of dispatching him. No, Ghost had made this ridiculous game far more competitive than needed, and you planned to win.

"Have fun," Gaz scoffed bitterly, still icing the blotchy green and purple bruise that had welted on his forehead as a medal of dis-honour. You hadn't exactly helped the healing process, poking it harshly with the pad of your thumb as you laughed at his mortifying misfortune. 

You wait patiently for Ghost to move, like a stake out on a mission. Lying in plain sight in a ghillie suit, a sniper rifle pointed right between his eyes and your finger on a hairpin trigger. You wait for him to break, for exhaustion to creep in. Thankfully, you don't have to wait long. The Lieutenant rises from his chair, announcing to 141 that he's headed to bed. 

A quiet mumble of 'goodnight' from each member grants him leave, and Ghost walks out of the room without further word. You waste no time in hurrying to your feet. 

"Are you gonna...-" Soap winces when you stand, trailing off when you start after Ghost, not allowing either of your colleagues to talk you out of this suicide mission. 

Though, the moment you turn the corner, you wish you had. Ghost's broad frame practically fills the narrow hallway like someone had plucked Everest from Nepal and shoved its hulking mass into a matchbox. He's ginormous, his usually silent footsteps causing the aged, rotting wood beneath the soles of his boots to creak with the weight he applies when he turns to face you. 

The dark hallway obscures Ghost's skull-face mask, but a glittering reflection of the golden light bleeding from the bulb in the living room area flickers across the wet surface of his eyes as he observes you. You can't allow the weighty pressure of his stare to phase you if you're to push ahead with your plan- so you step forward, swallowing down the nerves that Ghost's attention inevitably dredges up. 

"Lieutenant, sir," you address him smoothly, voice low as you gaze up at him through your lashes. Ghost's eyebrow arches in response, noting your somewhat suggestive behaviour. "Permission to spea-"

"I'm hopin' you'll tell me what you're all up to," his eyes spear your nerve as he interrupts you, "They're not lettin' up, but I'll get it outta you one way or another." 

"What... Did you have in mind?" You chance, heart slamming up against your chest when you realise just how obvious you're being. It's dangerous- you hadn't planned to be so forward. The idea that he'd be able to read your flirting so soon set off mortars in your veins. 

There's a pause. It dizzies you, throwing your previously sturdy confidence off kilter when Ghost tilts his masked head slightly. He's turning it over in his mind, considering the past few days' events. Then, he turns everything on its side. 

"I know what you're doing," he speaks suddenly, the rich baritone of his voice ricocheting off the walls and ringing in your ears like he's just discharged a round of ammo with each syllable. You jerk upright, standing to attention. 

"I don't know what you m-"

"You want the mask off," he interrupts you again, cutting your pathetic excuse short as he steps forward. It's ridiculous, the sheer size of him as he looms over you. "You lot made a bet."

Another beat. Ghost waits for a response, an admission of guilt. It feels like he's cornered you; every answer that springs to mind is incriminating. You know he can see your rueful expression, wide-eyed and panicked by the ease with which he puts you on the ropes. 

"Was this your plan?" He murmurs, reaching to grasp your chin. His palm settles on the hollow of your jaw, fingers fanning out across the bone. "Get me into bed and see if I'll take it off?"

Trembling in his hold, you whimper as Ghost's thumb stretches across to trace the curve of your lip. It follows the delicate arc, lining the shape of your mouth and trailing the dip of your cupid's bow. 

"'M sorry," you mumble weakly, cheeks hot beneath his touch. Again, you fold beneath the intensity of those honeyed irises. It's a miracle your knees don't buckle when he pushes the pad of his thumb just past your lips, so that it brushes the edges of your teeth. 

"That was your plan. Y'can still give it a try, love. But..." he hums, his voice throaty and quiet and settling in the pit of your stomach. It's embarrassing, the ease with which he figures you out, but his words drip over you, easy and warm, and all you can focus on is the slip of his thumb as he presses the pad against the flat of your tongue. 

"The mask stays on." 

Ghost’s insistence makes you giggle sheepishly and your stomach flip in dread, like a child caught with its hand down a bear trap. Despite the lewdness of him pushing his thumb past your lips, you know that he’s being serious, deathly so. You nod clumsily in recognition of his executive order, and Ghost gently taps the skin of your cheek with his free hand, the soft slap of his palm against your flesh standing your hair on end.

“Go.”

The word hangs in the air for a moment, weighing heavily in the claustrophobic space of the small hallway. It takes a moment for your mind, rendered utterly useless by Ghost’s imposing presence, to understand exactly what he’s implying. Only when he removes his thumb from your mouth to shove you forward towards a bedroom door does his intention become clear.

Oh. Oh!

Scrambling to force your feet forward, they practically float across the threshold of the bedroom door. You can feel Ghost looming just behind you, can practically feel the heat radiating from his chest warming the expanse of your back. Fingers clasp over your shoulder, practically swallow the curved flesh, and shove you back against the bedroom wall.

The force of impact winds you, the air expelled from your lungs swallowed down by Ghost’s lips bearing heavily down upon your own. He’d ripped the mask upwards, the hem of the ski-mask balanced across the bridge of his nose. Simon’s tongue licks into your mouth– intrudes upon the space like he’s kicking down a door, like he’s swallowing the breath he’d expelled from you with his heavy hand. 

Once the dazed dizziness dissipates, you moan in relief at finally getting what you wanted. Ghost’s gigantic paw takes hold of your jaw in a firm grip to fit his mouth perfectly against your own, his swirling fingerprints indenting in the soft flesh there in a mottled bruise. The soft pine he coaxes from you bleeds past your open mouth despite your attempt to suppress the frankly pathetic noise. 

Fuck it, this was worth it– all of it was worth it. The fear of getting it wrong, the anxiety of being caught, the panic that Simon could turn you away… All of it seeps into the darkness in the corners of the room when your superior drags his tongue across your lower lip. It’s though he’s relishing in the taste of the aftershocks of the arousal he sparks between your legs, the dopamine that rushes through you.

“Was this your plan?” Ghost grunts, grasping ahold of the scruff of your neck. Gasping weakly, you’re almost certain your eyes roll back in your head when he uses his harsh grip to steer you towards the bed. “Get me out of my fuckin’ mind so I don’t notice you takin’ off the mask?”

“That’s–” you huff, rendered breathless by Ghost’s intruding tongue, “That’s not it–”

Your pitiful attempt to excuse yourself is made useless when Ghost practically launches you onto the mattress of his bed, the rusted metal frame screaming under the sudden weight of your body. 

“No?” he queries, the usual boom of authority in his voice replaced by something that sounds far more like goading amusement as he places the hefty weight of his palm against your sternum, holding you down and thwarting any attempt to escape. 

He needn’t worry. The last thing you wanted was to leave. 

“Tell you what,” he muses in that smug tone you always hear over the comms, his free hand quick to grasp at the leather of his belt. The buckle clinks in the quiet as he works his fingers over it, “We’ll run through this mission, yeh? See if you can complete your objective, Delta?”

Your retort, or lack thereof, dies in your throat when Ghost pushes his crotch into your own. If it weren’t for the yelp of bliss that the Lieutenant had to smother with his palm, you’d hear the way he’d practically purred when he dragged his cock against you. 

“C’mon then. Try it,” he urged. 

It’s pointless, his mock-support. You just desperately reach for the waistband of his khaki uniform trousers, cockdrunk from the tease of its shape against you. Even in the low light, you can see Ghost’s scarred lips, the way they stretch into a smirk at your desperation. 

“Abandoning mission, Sergeant?” He asks you, unzipping his trousers. “Price’ll be disappointed to know this is all it takes for Delta to go AWOL.”

“Shut up,” you moan into the cold air of the cabin. You can see your breath. “Shut up and fuck me.”

When Simon removed himself from his trousers, making some glib comment about you being demanding, you marvel at the size of him. Girthy, swollen, the ruddy tip leaks precum down the arch of his cock and traces the pulsing veins. He’s rock hard and throbbing, framed by a thatch of pubic hair. 

Fumbling with your own trousers, you awkwardly try to remove them given Simon’s weighty palm still pins you down by your sternum. He watches, a glint in his eye in the low light that would almost embarrass you if you weren’t so focused on the task at hand. 

“What was the prize?” 

“H-Huh?” you stall, mind fried by Ghost’s unexpected line of enquiry. He picks up where you left off, violently yanking your trousers down your thighs and pushing your panties aside to expose your glistening cunt to his prying eyes. 

“What. Was. The. Prize?”

You hesitate for a moment, feeling Ghost’s fingers press against the inside of your thighs as he probes this unexplored territory of you. His touch skirts the areas you want him most, teasing and goading you for more information. “H-Hassa-ahh!”

You barely manage the first syllable of your answer before Simon rests the arch of his cock against your slick pussy lips. His body jerks slightly at the heat of your swollen cunt, the ease with which he can slide himself through your drenched sex. 

“You got to kill Hassan?” he asked for confirmation, his voice unwavering. You wonder how he manages to stay so steady– you’re coming apart at the seams, trembling as the head of his cock bumps your clit clumsily. 

“Yes,” you breathe, eyes rolling back as he continues his laboured, steady torture. His free hand settles on your hip, arching your pelvis up slightly to meet his own. You grind your hips upward against his cock, and Simon expels a soft scoff from lungs, those piercing eyes settled on your contorting expression. 

“Mhmm,” he hums, rolling his hips again. This time it’s even slower, teasing. “A temptin’ reward–” 

Simon is interrupted by the moan that splits your lips when he drags the length of his cock heavily against your clit. It sparks arousal deep in your abdomen, clings to the inside of your thighs wetly. 

Perhaps the disturbance is one transgression too many tonight, because Simon grasps your hips so hard that you are forced to stop gliding over the length of his cock. You pine in protest, but you choke on the pitiful sound when Ghost suddenly plunges his cock inside of you. It spears you open, breaks you apart, and you find your back arching desperately against the mattress. 

The palm that had rooted itself to your sternum flies up to clasp against your mouth, smothering the shriek of bliss that threatened to expose your extracurricular activities to the rest of your squad. You sob through your teeth beneath his life line, tears welling in your eyes as you feel him stretch your walls open to make room for his intrusion. 

You can’t help yourself. You need something to grasp onto, and opt for his wrist above your face. Digging your nails into the inked flesh there, you watch as the pain sparks something dark and twisted in Simon’s pupils, his azure irises swallowed by the expanding blackness.

He likes it. You can tell. His cock arches up inside of you, pushing deep and rocking against something earth shattering inside of you. Damp with sweat already, the skin of his wrist ripples as he tightens his grip on your face, refusing to withdraw from your pussy walls and instead opting for sharp, shallow thrusts that push you up the mattress with each connection of your hips. 

“Fuck,” he spits, using his tight grasp to pull you back towards him. It’s obliterating you, ripping you apart and pushing all your pieces back together in a mangled, jumbled mess. You whimper as you suffer through his brutal pace, marvelling at how good it feels when he consistently spears your g-spot. 

“When would you have done it?” Simon asks you, a little breathless now as he chases the high that begins to build at the edges of your body, tingling and pulsing. 

“Shut up–” you beg him, the low rasp of his voice launching you towards that pleasure that threatens to consume you. Jerking your hips up to meet his, your body mindlessly reacts to the sound of his timbre. 

“Oh, no,” he chuckles, shaking his half masked face. There’s a silver laden scar that stretches across the base of his chin. It matches the one that splits his upper lip to the base of his nose, the ski mask hovering tantalisingly over the bridge. “When?” 

The seriousness of his tone makes your thighs quiver when paired with the sharp thrust he punctuates his question with. Years of training in maintaining a cover-story while a hostage are blown to bits as though Ghost has launched a mortar at your resolve, because suddenly all your state secrets are spilling out of you quicker than you can shove the incriminating words back into your traitor mouth. 

“I’d– Hagh… I’d do it j-just as you’re cummin–hhah!”

“And spoil my fun?” Ghost hums, that heavy timbre licking up your spine and sparking viscous embers at the base of your spine, “Anyone ever told you that you’re very fuckin’ selfish, Delta?” 

You’d offer a witty comment, but Ghost’s angled his hips just right, and your jaw is falling loose to let out a panicked whimper. 

“There it is, shit. Look at you, Sargeant. Fuckin’, you’re so tight–” 

You’re like a slip knot, tightening around him further with each knock of your g-spot with Simon’s ridiculously large cock-head. Prickling tears of bliss threaten to spill over the edge of your waterline, continuing to sting even when you shut your eyes. You’re shaking, trembling beneath his rocking hips as you mewl his name. 

“S-Simon! Fuck–”

Wild, wet squelches of Simon sinking into your soaked cunt echo in your skull as he ramps up his violent thrusts, the springs of his mattress screaming an unmistakable rhythm to anyone walking by. He doesn’t seem to care now though, his eyes zeroed in on your expression like he’s stalking a victim with his sniper scope. Aiming for complete obliteration. 

“C’mon Can feel you squeezin’ round me,” he murmurs, the steady tone he’d offered earlier shuddering slightly as you squeeze impossibly tight around him, coil threatening to snap, “You’re so close, Delta. C’mon, paint my cock an’ I’ll eat you out with my cum in you–” 

                           ✰

“He’s blonde.” 

Gawping jaws drop to the floor at your very simple observation, Soap’s eyes nearly rolling across the uneven, rotten floorboards after falling out of his skull. You can’t help the smug smile that threatens to tug at the edge of your lips, especially given the sensation of Ghost’s eyes boring holes into the back of your skull. 

The awe only worsens when Price gives a subtle nod of confirmation from the corner of the darkened room, crowning you the winner of this utterly ridiculous joust. 

“How do you know?” Gary is as shaken as Soap by the confidence with which you’d offered your final answer, in disbelief as to how you could have possibly obtained it without being maimed, given the egg on his forehead was still throbbing despite days of icing it with the snow from outside the safehouse.

“His pubes are. I assume the curtains match the drapes,” you shrug dismissively. 

The sheer incredulity that flashes across Johnny’s face is utterly hilarious. The smirk that had been threatening to break finally cracks across your lips at the confirmation of your victory. Ghost’s eyes appear to have lazered through your skull, singing brain matter with the ferocity of his scowl. Frankly, you couldn’t care less– you can see it in your mind's eye; the gorgeous contrast of a blood-red crosshair settling across Hassan’s forehead, the weight of the trigger beneath your finger as you pull it back.

cod mwii/kinktober taglist:

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[firestorm09890]

figured out something I’ve been idly spinning on for a long time while assigning pokemon to the sinners, of all things

It’s about Meursault

I believe his Canto will be about dehumanization. Again. Even though we’ve already seen it multiple times and will probably see it even more. But hey, Limbus Company is a game about the experience of living in this bitch of a world despite it all and dehumanization is a struggle that comes in many forms.

It might be obvious that his canto would do that, considering the murder, but I actually think the discussion of how his victim, whoever it may have been (since The City seems to be over our version of racism and colonialism in favor of… other shit + Classism EX), was not treated as an equal class of citizen as Meursault (this is actually false. more on that next paragraph), will be secondary to Meursault’s own dehumanization.

In his source, he, a settler in French Algiers, kills an unnamed Arab. It is clear that any other white settler would have gotten away with it with a slap on the wrist- the court expected his trial to go quickly and for the main event of the day to be a different trial- but Meursault in particular is not afforded that privilege because the court believes him to be inhuman for- you guessed it- not crying at his mother's funeral. And also being an atheist and going out with his girlfriend the day after that funeral and asking for a cigarette when he wasn't supposed to and only a tiny bit the part where he shot the corpse 4 times, the point is it's over the stupid stuff not the stuff that matters

“[The prosecutor] said that he had peered into [my soul] and that he had found nothing, gentlemen of the jury. He said the truth was that I didn’t have a soul and that nothing human, not one of the moral principles that govern men’s hearts, was within my reach.”

In other words, this is a narrative about how quickly someone who you might think is part of the in-group can be cast out. He’s The Stranger, if you will.

N Corp is the Wing that values the concept of "humanity" perhaps the most in the entire City and I'm certain he has history with that view working to his detriment.

What's actually more important than what's happening within the story is "the cold, uncaring gaze of the anonymous masses"- the real world, that is- not that it's not all happening in-universe too.

I'm pretty sure jokes explicitly calling Meursault a robot have fallen to the wayside (though I don't exactly look for them so I'm not sure) in favor of the joke that Meursault can do literally anything if he is ordered to. He can become S Tier. He can manifest EGO. He could, I don't know, defeat Goku if Dante told him to. And so the tone changes, but... the sentiment doesn't. He's superhuman now, not subhuman, but he's still not a normal human.

The same goes for how the other sinners treat him. He's a wonderful source of information, almost like an encyclopedia. He can run fast with perfect breathing and he's strong and he can give massages. He is the perfect man- something I have seen said on a few of my Meursault posts. The easy solution to any physical problem.

Even his quirk of not being a good judge of when he should be taking action or telling people about things doesn't really matter anymore, since it has an easy "fix"- just telling him exactly what you want to be done. Goodness knows he's capable of it.

Even Vergilius seems to add to this view of him- Meursault gets one of the very few positive special voicelines from him in the announcer booth.

And the only announcer line of his to individual sinners that can't be read in a backhanded way.

He is less than human, or he is more than human. How does Meursault himself feel about any of this? Does he care? His input is valued more than before, which is great, but he still really just expresses observations and recites objective facts, not opinions and personal values.

...They don't actually like his personal values very much. Of the three occasions I can think of where he talks about what he thinks, Heathcliff in particular reacts negatively and loudly to all of them- the first is seen above, from Canto III; the third is in Canto VI, when Meursault had to go "hey I'm not finished talking yet", and though Heathcliff was Going Through It I think he also had it in his mind that he and Meursault do not tend to agree on courses of action; and the second is this one from Canto IV

(Heathcliff's words after Dante says they're going to help)

Keep an eye on this Meursault reaction. When Canto X comes out next year I'm sure we'll find out what those ellipses mean.

I believe that in his canto, the incredible, flawless image of him that the sinners have all built up in their minds will be torn down and they'll all have to contend with that. Heavy speculation, but maybe they'll even turn on him for a little bit, unable to cope with the shock that he's done something so terrible.

You know, how parasocial relationships and cancel culture works in real life.

As much as I like the idea of him having some connection to distortion (Carmen as the sun from the book is just too good), I think if he's anything but 100% human it cheapens his story. He's the perfect specimen by N Corp standards, and he's still not good enough, by metrics he could never hope to understand.

That is how I think The Stranger will be adapted.

[its-a-me-mango]

THANK YOU ALL FOR AN AMAZING YEAR! HERE'S TO MANY MORE!

Alllright, final thing to close off today, and what better than with a great big THANK YOU to everyone for sticking with me for a whole year! Regardless of if you’ve been around since I first joined or if you only just followed me today, thank you so much for your support of me and my work. Knowing there are so many fantastic and wonderful individuals who all enjoy what I make is just indescribable, I get to wake up and enjoy creating things I love for the series I love so dearly all while so many amazing people enjoy what I make too. I really can’t put into words how thankful I am for everyone who follows me but genuinely from the bottom of my heart, thank you, thank you all for an amazing year and here’s hoping for many more to come!

Now, I do have a few special dedications to a few certain individuals, if I didn’t get the chance to include you PLEASE don’t think that I don’t value you in any way! There were so many cool and talented people that I wanted to thank but I simply didn’t have time to do so! You are all so important to me and it does kill me a little that I can’t thank everyone, but I am just one guy at the end of the day so again please don’t take it personally, I am still so thankful for everyone and I want you to know this. <3

ANYWAY LONG ASS BLOCK OF TEXT UNDER THE READ MORE

So, in no order in particular

@lizaluvsthis @shygirl4991 @b-r-i-n-g-x - I’m putting you all together as one because I always see you guys working as a group so it feels wrong to split you guys up lol. You were all some of the first people I ever saw in the SMG4 fandom and your contributions inspired me so much to make my own stuff too! Everything you guys make always has so much heart and soul put into it, Brewing Romance, Split into 3’s, Gay Ogres, they’re all some of the first projects I remember seeing and for that I wanna thank you guys for motivating me to make and create my own things within this fandom! Even if you guys aren’t as active now or have moved on from those projects, I still hold them dear to me so keep making and creating because you guys are all so amazing at it! <3

@mothsbakery - Moth my beloved friend, I don’t know where to start, when I first got into SMG4, I was so worried about sharing it with my friends because I was worried it would somehow get turned against me in some way (blame that damn trauma lol), so having you take a passing interest in it was such a major relief to me. I’m so glad I’ve been able to sit down with you and watch the few episodes that we have because they’ve been so much fun! I’m so glad that we’re friends even after all these years. I know I’m not always the best at keeping in touch but I do genuinely appreciate your friendship and all that we’ve done together. Please keep making and creating and enjoying what you love, seeing you come to my DM’s with your newest musical piece is always such a joy to listen to and it’s been so wonderful to watch you improve over the years! Keep being amazing Moth, I’ll chat to you soon I promise! <3

@strange0-0storm - STOOOORM!!! (POINTING AT YOU POINTING AT YOU) FREAK!!!!/J I’m kidding lol, Storm I am so glad I’ve gotten the chance to talk with you, even if it's brief, you are so fun to talk to that I can’t wait to get the chance to chat with you again about OC’s or just anything really! Your work is always so yummy, whether it's SMG4, Gravity Falls, Popee The Performer, and more, your art is always just so full of character and it just makes me wanna keep doing what I’m doing and it helps me not worry about branching out at some point to something else. No matter what I will always come back to your work because it's so amazing and it’s even better knowing it’s made but such an equally amazing person, stay awesome Storm! (also RhythmDoctor 4 life they should kiss and make out more JHBBSGHBSGH) <3

@bluesbox - Blue! Dude you are so freaking cool I cannot put it into words, not only is your work fantastic and such a joy to interact with, but you’re also so dedicated to characters lore and interactions that I can’t help but wanna be just like that! I’ll never forget when you first dropped the TSB lore presentation that shit was SO WILD, knowing there's someone who's so invested in other peoples OC’s (including my own!) to such an extent is honestly so amazing, and it really pushes me to invest more time into my own work! Knowing there’s someone out there who genuinely takes so much interest in it is so uplifting, so thank you for always wanting to know more about what I make as well as everyone else, we need more amazing people like you Blue, keep being you! (also PS, the way you give Mango glasses is probably my favourite thing someone has given him, it makes me so happy to see every time, don’t tell anyone shhhhh) <3

@libbytwq - LIBBY, LIBBY OMG I don’t think I’ve ever met another SMG4 fan who just gets the same sense of humor as me so well, I love being terminally on Tumblr and having someone else who is also terminally on Tumblr, it’s so refreshing lmao! Lore not only are you an amazing person to talk to, you are also so insanely talented to match, all of your work has so much charm and passion put into it that I can just sense it with every piece, I always want to know more with your characters like I NEED the full SMGL:E lore or else I will explode and die, that’s how good you are at getting people invested in your work! You’re so great at creating interesting and engaging characters/stories that it motivates me so much with my own work. You have so much love for what you do it’s so wonderful to see, please keep creating forever and always because your work is such an absolute joy to see. I love getting the chance to chat with you so much and I can’t wait to chat with you again, thank you for being such an amazing friend Libby! <3

@hamlos - Hamlos, your work is truly incredible. I really can’t express it enough, it’s so dynamic and flexible in such a beautiful way, everything you make is just so amazing and that's just talking about your art itself, the characters you have are so interesting I always want to know more about them, especially Cardiac I seriously love him so much and having him paired with Mango is so wonderful, they really go together so well! I’ve never had anyone go so crazy (positive) over my characters before and It’s so amazing to see, every time you come to me with your amazing work it’s always such a nice thing to see! I know I am not always the best at responding but I do always see and read everything you send me and it always leaves me with a big smile on my face. Even if you’re not super into SMG4 right now, thank you for all that you’ve done and all that you’ve made for me, HeartBeet will always have a special place in my heart and I hope it does for you too, they are gay after all lol. <3

@neo91502 @hexsie @aquaproductions - Grouping you all together even though you all couldn’t be more unique and individual, every single one of you is so special and amazing to talk to, I legit get so excited any time one of you joins a VC with me because all of you are so fun to hang out with for so many reasons! Neo omg you are honestly such a nice person to chat to and be around, you’re always so fun to hang out with and you’ve convinced me to sit down one day and listen to Epic the Musical because every time you go crazy over the word Epic, I can’t help but find it so cute lol. Nova your obsession with Hex3 is so sweet and I’m genuinely glad you’re having so much fun with it, seeing you go on rambling about your OC’s will always be such a joy to see and you know what yes one day I will draw Hex3 just for you, gimme a second though (dies first /j). And Aqua, I had no idea how much of a sweetheart you were to talk to, you are honestly so cool and I’m so glad to have you in my DM’s sending me amazing fanart that you know I’ll like, thank you so much for being so awesome and I’m giving you platonic smooches right back at ya so watch out!!! All of you are again so amazing and I can’t wait to keep chatting with all of you! <3

MY BELOVED WHO SHAN’T BE NAMED BUT I KNOW YOU’RE READING THIS!!! - Hai babe, listen, I can’t believe the whole time you’ve been dating me I’ve been an SMG4 fan, that must be so embarrassing to you lol /j but thank you so much forever and always for sticking with me. You are truly the light of my life, I treasure every moment we spend together and I am waiting for the future to come so that I can spend it with you forever and always. Thank you for not only indulging in my interests with me, but for enjoying me for who I am, everytime you call me cute for getting giddy over SMG4 it honestly makes my heart flutter and it reminds me of why I love you so much, I wouldn’t be who I am without you and I hope you can say the same thing for me. I cannot wait to get the chance to see you again in person, I need to kiss you sloppy style soooooo bad it's making me bark and growl grrr grrr bARK BARK BARK anyway I love you so much and I always will. (I will forever kiss you for getting me Smug I can’t believe you got him, he’s like a fucked up and evil son to me) <3

@ominus-potato @theartistisme43 @coralalala64 - Grouping you all together even though I have different things to say about all of you, but regardless, all of you are such amazingly talented people that I’d love to get to chat with you all properly one day, even if I’ve talked with you guys a bit it’s not enough! I’d love to get to know you guys better at some point lol. Ominus your work is just so good I can’t help but feel happy anytime I see it. I promise one day we will meet at a convention, I’m so mad I missed you once I won’t let it happen again! Cantro, your work is incredible!!! Every time I see it I’m so amazed with what you’ve made that it just gets me excited to see what else you can create, I am manifesting with all my strength that if you do ever decide to apply as a SMG4 machinima artist, that you get it because god damn you deserve it! And Coral, THE CREATURE CREATOR!!! I love your lil creatures so much, and OMG you have to teach me how to do such amazing pencil work, your work always inspires me so much and I’m so glad I’ve gotten the chance to chat with you a lil, your gif collection is truly frightening but in the best way possible. Again all of you are so amazing so please keep doing what you’re best at! <3

@tiredsmashbros - Tomm, Mr Tiredsmashbros, holy shit where do I even start with you. First of all, I would probably not be thanking half the people in this piece if not for you, I know how scary setting up a server was for you but I will forever be so thankful that you did. Finally getting the chance to chat with not only you, but so many amazing people in the SMG4 fandom has been an absolute joy and I am forever thankful for you for creating such an open and accepting space, you and Radiant are seriously so awesome for all the work you’ve put into that place. It’s from your server that i’ve learnt how wonderful and generous you are as a person, I really cannot think of anyone kinder than you Tomm, the way you always have an essay planned for every piece of fanart you get, from just your overall positive attitude, I am so glad I’ve finally gotten the chance to meet you after just being a fan of your work for so long. Your work has been such an inspiration to me and you’ve always been someone I wanted to chat with and the fact that I am now is!!! Crazy!!! I can’t believe you were scared of me at one point lol. Anyway thank you Tomm for being such a fantastic friend overall, I need to know TSB’s lore right now, can you whisper it to me I promise I’ll keep it a secret, regardless stay awesome dude, you deserve nothing but joy and happiness forever and always. Qwah Tuh (also Burgerfruit beloved, they should get weirder /j) <3

@doodledev1l - Doodle!!!!! Okay I know this sounds weird but genuinely finding another British SMG4 fan has been so refreshing, not only that but you’re super fun to talk to and be around so it’s even better! Getting the chance to hang out and chat with you is always so fun, I love getting to hear what you’re working on for uni and I always hope that it goes well for you, I know how stressful it can be lol. Regardless, I know you’ll do amazing because I’ve seen how dedicated and talented you are when it comes to your work, again I hope the rest of uni goes well for you because you deserve it, we gotta end your bad luck streak somehow lol. Thank you for being such an amazing person to chat and hang out with, keep up the amazing work dude, I’ll get you a tescos meal deal one day I promise. <3

PHEW, THAT’S EVERYONE, again thank you all so much for sticking by my side for a year! Doesn’t matter what time you showed up, I will always be thankful to know all of you, keep being awesome I love you all. I die now

Mango <3

[melercies]

imagine this...

pairing(s): nam-gyu x pinkguard!reader (specifically triangle) x thanos imagine

warning(s): gender-neutral reader(!!), slightly suggestive at the end. Read at your own risk, intended use of lowercase. my best interpretation of these two characters.

author's note: I PULLED UP BOTH OF THEIR WIKIS TO READ AND TRY GET THEIR CHARACTERS FROM THEIR PERSONALITY. i remembered that i had request this as an anon towards someone's blog (specifically midnite-c6; heavily inspired by their incredible writing), and figured to emphasize it with some ideas of my own. i'm grateful for them for writing it. I did give a subtle background for the reader too. :) Please let me know if I missed anything. Likes, Reblogs and Comments are highly appreciated!

you were simply just like any other ordinary pink guard, managing, upkeeping, and enforcing the rules of this horrendous game under the order of the Front Man. since you were given the opportunity to work as a soldier in the games due to the hopeless situation you were in before becoming a pink solider. desperate times calls for desperate measures you suppose.

all you had to do was follow the rules; never remove your masks to reveal your identity, no questioning of any command given or initiate any friendships to gain any forms of attachment. just eliminate players and make sure none of the contestants broke any of the game's guidelines. simple enough, right?

wrong. there were two particular contestants that had caught your attention. you shouldn't have been intrigued by them, you mentally scolded yourself. but it was hard not to be. they were literally acting as if these death games were the same as a children's playground. it was absurd. but it was amusing...to say the least.

after watching the purple-haired contestant who seems to go by the name, thanos, who was skipping around, killing players and having the time of his life in red light, green light along with nam-gyu following around, and partaking within the tense conflict between player 333, thanos and himself, you've made your choice.

of course, you were cautious and careful about the decisions you've made. you were as subtly as possible, if you were caught, dire consequences were to be delivered your way or, to save the effort and time, kill you.

you've made sure to ensure their safety for now, wanting to keep them alive to draw out the possibilities as to what they could do next to entertain you. even if it meant to kill other contestants unfairly as you kept a sharp eye towards their direction.

you've given them small advantages sneakily here and there, managing to slip by without a singular witness or anyone catching what you were doing. going from preventing conflicts that could get both of them killed to giving them extra food within their meals given in comparison to other players' meals.

of course, it didn't take long til one of them took notice before informing the other. the only question lingering within their minds, why? they knew you were one of the guards who were tasked to eliminate those who lose within the games, so why are you...helping them?

despite the triangular mask you wore to conceal your identity, they plan to find out who you were and confront to you. both keeping a rather particular eye on you. they knew which guard you were, often catching you taking a slight subtle glance towards their direction or they could just sense it, they just fucking knew it was you.

especially when it came to meal times, you would stand there with one hand that held a drink and the other that held the given sustenance (if you could even call it a proper nourishment for the players...) giving each player their limited ration, ignoring their complaints and noises of disbelief until it came to them.

the main dormitory was noisy, filled with the atmosphere of weary players who had just endured another brutal round. the smell of the tasteless food wafted through the air, mixing with the lingering fear and tension that never seemed to fade in this place. the players grumbled and complained about their meager rations, their voices filled with frustration, but you, as always, stood motionless behind the food station, handing out the same bland meal to each one of them.

the mask you wore, that stark triangular symbol, was meant to hide everything; your face, your emotions, your identity. to blend in with the other guards, to remain invisible. but it was becoming harder. they were starting to notice you.

as you handed out the meal to the next few contestants, you couldn't help, but feel their eyes on you. nam-gyu's calculating gaze lingered for a moment longer than necessary, though he remained silent. thanos, however, was blatant. both of them trying to figure you out despite the appearance you kept up was hard enough to get a read from.

when thanos had appeared next in line, you could feel the tension between you, thick and almost palpable. thanos was grinning, his usual cocky self, but this time there was something behind that grin, something more calculated in the way he sized you up. nam-gyu stood behind him, calm as ever, but you could see the flicker of something behind his eyes. an awareness that wasn't there before.

you moved to hand thanos his ration, a carton of milk and bread wrapped in plastic. you handed it to him with your usual blank expression, but before you could pull your hand away, you subtly slide an extra piece of bread, quickly and barely for anyone to notice.

thanos didn't flinch, didn't make any overt sign that he saw it. he simply took the rations with a slow, deliberate motion, his eyes not leaving you for a second. he stared at the food in his hands, looking back at you with a sly, knowing smile before turning around and heading back to his bunk. nam-gyu, on the other hand, stepped forward, an undeniable intensity within his eyes. he knew. they both knew. the question now was what they'd do with this knowledge.

without saying another word, you turned and moved to hand nam-gyu his rations, finding your own heart racing, but maintained the same calm demeanor as you slipped an extra piece of bread. just the same thing you've done for thanos, feeling nam-gyu's gaze on your form, sharper than ever.

his fingers had brushed against yours for moment, and you felt a brief shiver at the subtle touch before he politely thanked you. he took his rations and headed where thanos was sitting. you knew that thanos and nam-gyu would be conversing upon it, no one noticing that they were getting these advantages when the other contestants were too busy conversing upon what could possibly be ahead for them or the food in front of them.

you handed out the last of the rations with a quick, controlled motion, ignoring the lingering eyes of thanos and nam-gyu. "enjoy your meal," you stated, your voice cool, almost disinterested. then, without another word, you turned and moved away, the weight of their scrutiny following you.

it was risky. you knew it was, and yet, you still continued on. both of them were still alive. because of you.

there was at one point, where thanos had tried offering you the small pills inside his cross necklace which you were questioning as to how it managed to get within the game itself with no detection. which you declined, shaking your head while nam-gyu was poking your body, and touching your mask. you didn't know if he was doing this out of curiosity or simply for his own enjoyment, but each touch caused you to flinch and when he was about to pull your mask off, you didn't hesistate to lift your gun and point it directly at him as a warning. obviously, they backed off from that, not wanting to get killed.

questions would tend to spur towards you between both of them, but you never answered a singular question of theirs. and it certainly didn't take long til a confrontation occured during your shift of covering the bathrooms, making sure no one is causing trouble. one of your shifts would be where things would certainly take a turn for you.

the dimly lit corridor of the bathroom hallway felt strangely still, a quiet echo of the chaos that always surrounded the players. you stood with you back pressed against the cold wall, your triangular mask in place, you eyes scanning the hallway within an unblinking focus. the task was simple, stand guard, make sure no players caused trouble, and ensure no one broke the rules. as long as you kept your distance, it was easy to blend in.

but tonight was different. the air felt charged, a tense electricity crackling around you as you stood. you had a feeling something was coming, and when thanos and nam-gyu appeared, you knew the storm was finally here.

thanos strutted toward the bathroom door with his usual carefree swagger, his purple hair messy and wild. but his eyes, those sharp, calculating eyes, flicked toward you for a split second, and you could feel the weight of his gaze. he had already started to sense something.

behind him, nam-gyu walked more slowly, his posture calm, but there was a sharpness in his steps. he had always been more observant, and it didn't take long for his eyes to lock on you as well. you did your best to keep still, not giving anything away, but they were too good. they knew.

"you," thanos's voice broke the silence, teasing but with an edge of something darker. he stopped in front of you, his lips curling into a smirk as he looked you over, then glanced to nam-gyu. "i knew it was you. always watching, always giving us just enough. don't think i didn't notice, guard."

"you've been helping us," nam-gyu said, his voice low, almost cold. "extra food, extra attention...you're not just doing your job. you're playing a different game, hmm?"

thanos's grin widened, sensing the opportunity. he leaned in, close enough that his breath fanned against your triangular mask. the one thing that separated both you and him, and you somehow found yourself gripping the firearm in your hands tighter. "what's your angle, guard? what are you getting out of this? you've been pretty... generous to us, haven't you?" his voice dripped with amusement, but there was something more dangerous in the way he spoke now.

you stood there, frozen for a moment, your heart pounding under the mask. you have been careful. you have bee subtle. but here you were, both of them were standing in front of you, catching onto your quiet acts of defiance. the games weren't just about survival for them; they were about control, about manipulation and right now, they were flipping that dynamic onto you.

before you could respond or move away, thanos's hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with a sudden force that left no room for protest. "you're not going anywhere," he said, his voice low and insistent, a playful glint in his eyes as he pulled you towards a door that lead to the men's bathroom. "we've got some questions for you, guard." nam-gyu didn't need to speak; the message was clear. you weren't going to get away without giving proper answers.

the door to the men's bathroom slammed shut behind you as thanos pushed you inside, dragging you further into the dimly lit room. it was empty; just you, thanos, and nam-gyu.

thanos leaned in, his breath hot against your mask as he whispered, "you thought you could sneak by, didn't you? you thought you could just help us without anyone noticing." he took a step back, his grin growing wider, more dangerous.

nam-gyu moved closer, his movements deliberate, but a quiet power was evident in his eyes that sent a shiver through you. "you've been careful, but not careful enough," he said, his voice mockingly soft yet piercing. "we know what you've been doing. and now you're doing to explain it to us, right?"

you took a slow step back, but thanos was faster, his hand shooting out to block your retreat. his fingers brushed against you as he leaned in once more. "you've been playing both sides, haven't you? helping us, getting close. do you like it? do you like being close to us?"

the tension between the three of you was thick, the silence hanging in the air, broken only by your steady breaths underneath the mask. you had never been this close to them before, and now the weight of their scruntiny was more suffocating than you had anticipated.

thanos stepped forward, his face inches from yours, his smirk never wavering. it almost felt he and nam-gyu could see through your mask. "you're not so good at hiding, are you? i can feel it. you want something more from us, don't you?" his voice was suddenly soft, almost teasing though, as if he were savoring the moment. "maybe you just want to be seen."

nam-gyu didn't speak immediately as you felt nam-gyu suddenly holding onto your mask, almost as if he was about to lift it and reveal your identity towards them. his other hand holding onto your shoulder in a grip, rubbing it slightly. you didn't stop him, remaining completely still. "you're playing a dangerous game, y'know?" nam-gyu murmured close.

the words hung in the air, thick with tension, and just as you thought they might let you go, thanos leaned in, a final whisper of threat in his voice. "i think you like this. being caught. being trapped between us." his hand grazed your arm as he spoke, his grip tightening slightly on your wrist.

nam-gyu's eyes traced over you, intense and unwavering, his gaze heavy with unspoken meaning. a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he took a step closer. his voice was low, almost a whisper. "you'll figure it out soon enough," he murmured. "what it really means to play with us...and what happens when you finally stop pretending you're not interested." his hand then lifted up your mask.

[causticsodaa]

Sakura and Suo stopping each other

That’s it. That’s the title of the post.

This probably isn’t intentional and is just me reading too into both of these scenes, but I speculate these particular moments in Chapter(s) 50 and 75 have many similarities + differences at the same time and could parallel each other, or at least show how Suo and Sakura’s relationship has subtly developed over time.

For starters, both of these scenes open with Sakura/Suo looking out for each other amidst their battle, with the other person too pre-occupied to notice their concern.

These scenes also involve someone losing control during their fight (with KEEL being Suo, and Roppo having Kanji almost punching Sakura)

Suo and Kanji are stopped; however, it is Sakura who restrains Suo, while Kanji gains back his self control before he can manage to hit Sakura.

Then we get a few pages of exposition which involves Sakura/Kanji refocusing their priorities (I’m being brief about this because this part isn’t that important right now lol)

It’s also important to note that Sakura’s allies were being overwhelmed before these two moments, causing him to be more alert/distressed:

And we have the obligatory dead wife flashbacks, of course.

The main thing that sets these scenes apart, however, is when Sakura and Suo interfere with each other, and the context behind it.

In KEEL, Sakura stops Suo from losing control, insisting that there are more important things to do rather than focusing on one person (even though Nirei had been hurt)

Though Suo questions Sakura at first, we can see how quickly his thoughts shift when Sakura admits that he’s really mad at himself [for failing as a leader].

We see Suo calming down the more Sakura talks (even though he tries to escape from his grasp in the middle of it). Suo soon rationalizes and agrees with Sakura, even teasing him in classic Suo fashion to deflect from his strong outburst earlier.

Then we get one out of the two meaningful introspections that we’ve received from Suo so far right after:

Keep in mind, most of Suo’s internal dialogue have consisted of one-off quips about the situation around him, with them being enclosed in thought bubbles.

We barely see any sort of meaningful internal dialogue from him otherwise (compared to the other prominent characters such as Nirei, Ume, Tsubaki, Endo, and Sakura who is the MC) This writing choice is probably deliberate in order to keep the mysterious/unknown aspect of his character consistent.

The only other time we see this from Suo is in Noroshi, and his introspection is, once again, about Sakura.

This moment in KEEL is not only important for Nirei and Sakura’s developments, but it is also highly important for Suo; especially because we see two hidden aspects of his character drawn out by Sakura and Nirei. In essence, Chapter 50 main focus is on Suo, a character who is so closed off and ambiguous, and brings him to the limelight (given that the chapters title is literally named ‘Extreme Emotions’, which refers to Suo’s outburst).

In Roppo Ichiza however, things are different. This scene mainly focuses on Sakura, since we constantly see his internal dialogue echo throughout the chapter.

When Kanji gives out his orders, we can see Sakura doubt himself, both internally and externally. Suo, being the observant person he is, probably picked up on this.

So when Kanji yells his cue, Suo immediately rushes to grab Sakura’s hand and drags him to Shizuka, instead of letting him follow Suo himself.

Unlike KEEL, this interaction is very blunt and straightforward. It is a simple one-pager, rather than the multiple paged dedicated to their previous confrontation in the shipyard. Though Sakura protests, Suo merely reassures him of their main objective, and Sakura just lets Suo take him away.

We even see Sakura verbally resisting, while Suo had physically resisted before.

But after Suo says his words, Sakura immediately doubts himself again, wishing that he could do more in this situation.

I believe that this contrasts Suo’s introspection back in Chapter 50. Though Suo looks up to Sakura and even feels that he can never compete with him, Sakura himself doesn’t even think he’s enough [as a person]. It really shows how the other people in Sakura’s life really respect him, while Sakura can’t even respect himself.

In the end, Suo and Sakura look out for each other in times of need, and guide each other when necessary despite resistance; a push and pull relationship.

Also, it’s really cute how Suo and Sakura didn’t even let go of each other in the next chapter. Like Shizuka is right there, what are you guys even doing lol

[gokyrts]

your carlos fic was amazing... can you do a mafia au carlos?

hiii nonnie! thanks for putting in a request<3 there were many thoughts about mafia Carlos, so here’s my take on this AU 🤭 this contains both SFW and NSFW thoughts, the latter will be under the cut!!

wc: 1.2k

SFW

—Mafia boss!Carlos would be a tantalizing mix of calculated behavior deluded with kindness:

Being under the wing of a local mob had its perks even with the risks that came from inside the organization. A risk you realized you took accidentally when you walked in on a family meeting, the boss himself sitting at the head of the table. The voices died down, everyone was staring and you gulped. A shiver ran down your spine when Carlos stood up, silently walking around the table to you.

“W-What’s going on?” You squeaked out, but that was the wrong kind of question to ask.

“I cannot tell you, preciosa…” Carlos’ voice wrapped around you like the first gust of wind in late autumn — chilling amidst the warmth.

“If I tell you, I’d have to kill you… and I don’t want to do that.” And you saw the cold honesty in his eyes which, despite their depth, seemed hollow and loveless. Yet it juxtaposed the warmth of his voice in your ear, the sweetness of the petname he used for you…

You nodded meekly, understanding your place and feeling a strange sense of gratitude that he took mercy on you, despite your intrusion. Carlos tilted his head at your reaction, a hint of a smile on his lips. He brought his hand up to your cheek, caressing the soft skin with the back of his fingers.

“Good girl… now, back to your duties.” He ordered you like he would a servant and yet you found yourself happily obliging, scattering from where he held a meeting with the family.

His smile fell when you rounded the corner and he turned around to go back into the room you so unfortunately stumbled into.

—Mafia boss!Carlos would not tolerate his men disrespecting you:

No matter which position you held in the family, you were always respected… only on occasion, someone dared to do the opposite. A new young man joined the family not long ago, he noticed you around the estate and nearby bar the family owned. He made the unfortunate mistake of assuming you were a local escort. Before he was able to further dig his own grave, he caught a hand upside his head.

“Oi! Cabrón, this isn’t some whore you can chat up!” One of the capos scolded, trying to save the new guy’s ass before the boss would notice but Carlos was watching the entire exchange. He clicked his tongue, catching the attention of the rest of the men in the bar, and beckoned the new guy with his finger. He was already sweating and slowly approached the boss.

“Y-Yes, boss?”

“What is your name?” Carlos asked, his tone indifferent, yet the look in his eyes told everyone they were about to witness a lesson being taught. The young man in question told Carlos his name, to which Carlos repeated it, letting out a hum as if in thought before continuing.

“How would your mamá feel if she knew you were treating women this way?” The distaste for others seeing you as less than you were was clear in Carlos’ tone and you watched with interest as the guy stammered.

“S-She wouldn’t be happy, boss…”

Carlos nodded in acknowledgment before leaning forward.

“She would give you a worse beating than I ever would so I suggest you apologize to the señorita before I get your mother on the phone.”

In mere moments you had the new guy at your feet, apologising for his behavior and a promise he’d never dare assume who you were or any other woman for that matter. Carlos could only watch on with a smirk on his lips.

—Mafia boss!Carlos would make sure you have everything you need:

You want a new dress? Boom, it’s laid out on your bed. You like a particular piece of jewelry? Boom, it’s sitting in a pretty box for you to take. Anything and everything you wanted, the boss provided. A shopping spree? There are three bodyguards with you, carrying your bags, holding the doors open, driving you around. You really got the princess treatment from their leader. When you returned, Carlos would of course have you model it for him since he bought all of it, in some cases, the dresses had to be returned because his hands were too eager trying to take them off of you and he ripped them. Worry not, he made up for it.

NSFW 18+ under the cut

—Mafia boss!Carlos would have you at his beck and call:

You would know when he snapped his fingers, when his gaze intensified, that was your call, your call to drop to your knees and serve your boss. He loved how perfectly you fit under the table in his office, how easy it was to thrust into your mouth, watching you take every inch of him. He especially loved the look in your eyes when one of his men came in and Carlos didn’t stop, he held you there, nose buried in his pubic hair as you gagged, till he let you come up for a breath.

“That’s it, preciosa… you like it, huh? I can see you rubbing those thighs together…”

Your cheeks only reddened at his words, making him grin. He stretched his leg, sliding it between your thighs.

“Come on, be a good girl for me… get yourself off on my boot.”

Of course, you’d be licking the mess you made off the expensive leather of his boot later when he allowed you to cum.

—Mafia boss!Carlos would do his occasional inspections:

You nearly yelped when you felt someone step up behind you but the warmth of Carlos’ big hands on your waist soon put you at ease.

“Shhh, it’s just me…” He cooed, humored by your startled behavior. His hands traveled lower, hoisting up your skirt. You bit your lip, thighs trembling in anticipation as you realised Carlos’ curiosity got the best of him again.

“Mmm, I like this pair on you,” He praised, his thumbs digging into your lower back slightly, forcing your forward, making your ass stick out as he appreciated the sight of you in a particular set of panties. You gasped when he smacked your right cheek, your reaction earning you a warm chuckle from the Spaniard.

“Beautiful…” Carlos continued, his fingers hooking in the waistband and pulling it down. You obediently stepped out of them, your skirt falling back in place. The piece of clothing looked tiny in Carlos’ big hand and you could see him smirk as he noticed the patch of wetness on them. But it wouldn’t be Carlos if he didn’t do something to make you yearn more for him. He pocketed the underwear and you could feel your heart racing.

“I—” He didn’t let you finish the thought, putting a finger against your lips.

“Shhh, you can come earn them back later, hmm, how does that sound, preciosa?”

Carlos didn’t wait for an answer, he knew you would come so he just left, with your soaked panties in his pocket, letting you walk around bare underneath your skirt the whole day.

want more thoughts on mafia boss Carlos or do you have your own? lemme know in my askbox!! <3

2024 @ gokyrts . do not distribute or translate my work on other sites.

[zerokurokawa]

Hi, I love the way that you write, do you think you can make a Reader X Bonten (individually or all together) based on the song "you right" by Doja Cat, where the reader is s/o to a guy making deals with bonten and one day she accompanies him to one meeting and she and the guys from Bonten can't take their eyes off of each other.

I Got a Man But I Want You | Bonten!Members x Taken!Reader

You weren't new to going to meetings with your boyfriend who is involved with some shady things outside of "normal work" hours. This time, however, he gave you strict instructions to keep quiet and stay very still as if these new people he was dealing with were very dangerous. 

You see, your boyfriend was low-key a piece of work. He would come home late at night and not pay a bit of attention to you and often stay out for weekends at a time doing what he called "business". However, you weren't stupid. You stayed with him because of the money he brought in and he gave you everything he could possibly give you. 

Today was no different to you than any other day. As instructed, you were to wear a revealing outfit with your makeup and hair done perfectly in order to convey the message of being a "poise" and "proper" woman of business alongside your boyfriend. 

As you stepped out of the vehicle, your boyfriend and yourself were met with security guards asking for specific information about what the meeting was and who you two were to be meeting with. You and your boyfriend did as instructed by the guards and headed upstairs to the top floor. You were met with a large, empty table with a view overlooking the city of Tokyo. You both sat down in chairs, making sure that they were empty - meaning there were no folders placed in front of the seats indicating that there would be possible suitors for those seats in general. 

Ten minutes passed but it felt like eternity once you heard the door of the room open and in come multiple men dressed in fancy suits and wearing expensive things such as watches and chains. You could tell just by how these men looked that they meant nothing but business and you were a little intimidated. 

You locked eyes with one particular member of this organization called "Bonten". His face had a scar that ran across his left eye and stood stout in front of you. Then, in walked who was famously known as the "Haitani Brothers", both with matching hair color and wearing stylish suits who sat down right next to you. After them, a man with bright pink hair and scars on both sides of his mouth made his way to the opposite side of the table. Finally, the ring leader came in - a short, white haired man with bags under his eyes who seemed frail and skinny as if he was on the brink of death. He sat at the front of the table, making eye contact with you for only a split second. 

"It's nice to finally do business with you all. Thank you for having this meeting with me." Your boyfriend spoke up as he laid out his paperwork that he had brought along which consisted of numbers and documents you weren't allowed to see. The only reason he brought you along on these meetings in the first place was to give the illusion that he had his shit together in the first place. 

All of the men just stared at you, not paying attention to the words that came out your boyfriend's mouth as he began to ramble about numbers and trades that he had made in the past year, hoping he would get a chance to work with Bonten. 

However, they had all seemed like they were paying more attention to you than they were to him. You felt as if you were in a room full of lions waiting to pounce on their prey. One man in particular stood up and stated that he was done with the meeting and had no interest in hearing out what your boyfriend had to say. On the way out, you looked him in the eyes once more, watching as his dark, blackish blue hair and scarred face walk out of the room. 

The Haitani brothers both started in on you then. Cutting your boyfriend off mid-sentence, they asked the tall one asked what your name was. You looked at your boyfriend and then stated your name. 

"Y/n L/n." You said calmly as you were internally shaking from intimidation. 

He then stood up, along with his brother, and walked over to you. Your boyfriend's eyes widened as they stuck out their hands to shake yours, introducing themselves and Rindou and Ran Haitani. As they did this, the man with the florescent pink hair stared you down along with the leader, who you had recently learned his name being Manjiro Sano, AKA, "Mikey". 

After the handshake, you sat there thinking to yourself about how intimidating, yet, attractive all of these men were to you. You couldn't help but to think about the possibilities of what would happen if they had gotten you alone... 

You quickly realized that you were letting your lustful mind wander and shook off the thoughts. Once you had came back to your thoughts, you realized that you had to go to the restroom. Excusing yourself while your boyfriend continued to try and talk to the leader himself, who by the way, seemed uninterested, you left the room in a hurry. 

As you rounded the corner, you were met with the same pair of eyes who had been staring at you for the entire meeting. He towered over you with intense eye contact. 

"What are you doing outside of the meeting?" He asked softly, taking you off guard. You had expected him to be more intimidating and rough around the edges. 

"I'm just looking for the restroom..." You stated, backing away slowly. He took a step forward and offered you his arm. Afraid to deny his request, you took his arm and he led you to the restroom himself. 

"My name is Kakucho. What's your name?" 

"Y/n." You spoke quietly as you reached for the handle of the bathroom door. 

"And what are you doing with a guy like that?" He asked, tilting his head. 

"Honestly, I don't know." You responded. That was when you felt him slip a piece of paper into your hand. You took it and went into the restroom and shut the door behind you.

You opened the piece of paper and it read: 

You deserve better. Call me. XXX-XXX-XXXX.