#she had no self-awareness whatsoever

[fideidefenswhore]

When it comes to religious convictions, Jane is even more contradictory. Weir’s version paints her as a girl so pious that she considers becoming a nun. As a lady-in-waiting to Katherine of Aragon, she comes to love Henry’s first wife and her daughter, later Mary I, who embrace the old faith. She is appalled by the King’s break with Rome, his self-declaration as the spiritual leader of England, and his dissolution of the monasteries. Yet unlike Thomas More, who famously paid for his resistance with his head, Jane finds it expedient to swear an oath to Henry’s religious supremacy. While sometimes she speaks up, more often she shuts up, for fear of angering her volatile husband. I’m not saying that Jane comes off as a complete hypocrite. Her love for the king may well have been genuine, if also fueled by a desire for wealth and glory (she seems pretty thrilled with the trappings of royalty, to the point that once she becomes queen, she abandons a friend among the ladies of the court). But in the end she is awfully “judgy,” in modern parlance, rationalizing her own choices while holding everyone else to a lofty standard of fidelity, faith and maternal feeling.

Jane Seymour, The Haunted Queen

[cuteniaarts]

Wine stains on porcelain

(Alternatively: @katkastrofa and I have created 5 OCs in 3 days and I suffer from chronic “I wanna draw the little guysssssss” disease)

[demetriandelibinaryboyfriends]

General audience dudebros with Hawk, sorry not sorry <3

do you ever just look at someone’s interpretation of a character and want to gently put your hands on their shoulders, look them kindly in the eyes and say you got it all wrong

[fruitlicense]

I think I’ve figured out my favorite chemistry for the DC Trinity, as follows:

Superman and Wonder Woman are the kind of friends who treat each other like siblings, but they 100% mean it. They laugh, they hug, they get at least one meal together every week, they occasionally finish each other’s sentences, and when they’re in the same room you can tell they genuinely like each other. They know each other like siblings, too - one won’t know every detail about the other, but they can pull out years-old esoteric stories that no one else had any idea even happened, and they each have a keen sense of who the other is deep down. Clark and Diana know each other’s dreams, fears, and morals, and that trust is visible. The only thing that tells you they’re not actually related is that when they disagree, they argue like well-adjusted adults, without any psychological manipulation or maiming. Sparring is a bonding activity for them, not a way to express anger.

Wonder Woman and Batman have a bond that is entirely platonic but mind-bogglingly deep. They should have the kind of relationship where it’s perfectly normal for them to shower together after a mission and discuss what the Justice League’s next steps should be, but if you point out that it’s kind of weird for them to share a showerhead and a shampoo bottle they’ll act like you’re weird for pointing it out. Bruce is washing blood and concrete dust out of Diana’s hair. There are no sexual or romantic vibes whatsoever. They’re at a level where it’s almost like they’re two halves of the same mind, like if they got into some crazy magic mishap where they were sharing a body it would move like a well-oiled machine. Even when they disagree or argue it seems like a single entity having an internal battle. They have crazy trust, like knowing-every-corner-of-the-other’s-brain trust, to the point that the greatest way to show their affection to each other is allowing each other their secrets. Bruce doesn’t pry past Diana’s hard lines and she knows when to stop pushing him, and those boundaries are honored because literally all the others are gone.

Batman and Superman, however, have inexplicable vibes. At a glance they act like coworkers, or like good friends, but if you look longer than thirty seconds there’s something between them that’s tangible enough to cut - it’s also weirdly horny and literally no one else wants to get involved with it. You could walk into a room where Clark was making coffee and Bruce was doing paperwork and they weren’t talking to or looking at each other and you would feel like you were intruding on their marriage bed. They keep up the same level of professionalism with each other that they do with the rest of the Justice League but they might as well not fucking bother, because somehow it still seems like they’re incapable of not broadcasting that they want each other carnally. They also have a deep level of trust, but it’s not familial or platonic. It’s more like the kind you have with someone you’re so deeply in love with that you can’t fathom not sharing your entire self with them. The world could end in burning flames and they’d survive it without going insane as long as they had each other. No one is actually sure if they’ve ever acted on these feelings, or if they’re even aware that they have them.

All three of them would burn the world down for each other, obviously, so it’s a damn good thing they’re saving it instead.

[chrolloluvr]

Plsplspls do Adam and Mammon with a reader who behaves like a lovesick puppy and is always battling her eyelashes at them and gets all flustered when they flirt plsss 🙏🏻

Adam and Mammon w/ S/O who is lovestruck with them.

Note: I LOVE RJIS IDEA!!! ALSO WITH MY TWO FAVORITE MEN BY VIVZIE LIKE HELLO??

Female!Reader

Warnings: Touching, not proofread, but other than that nothing rlly!

Mammon 🕷️:

He would use this to his advantage. If he wants something from you, he had you wrapped around his fingers.

"Hey babe, yeah, so I need something from ya. You'll do this for me right? Aw, your such'a good girl."

He is so aware that his speech and accent give such a feeling to you. He finds you adorable.

But other than the obvious exploitation, he thinks its cute. Obviously, millions of other girls in Hell feel the same way as you, but he chose you.

But other than that, he loathes in the attention and innocent looks you give him.

He will physically flirt with you. He likes to ruffle your hair, play with your cheeks (both ass and face), ,and his favorite, forcing you to look up at him. He knows his affect on you is dangerously crazy, so he uses that to his advantage.

You feel butterflies in your stomach whenever you're around him, and his loud, obnoxious self. You love how dainty and feminine he makes you feel. You are like his princess, and he is your king. (technically that is true lol)

Because he isn't a traditional man per say, but he has a traditional view on women.

He will mentally flirt with you. He gives you a certain look:

He only does this when he wants to get you weak in the knees for him. Because he knows it works.

He will always tease you. He gets into your head like no other. When you are with him, it feels like no other man matters, it always circles back to him.

He loves the fact that you are obedient and behaved. He loathes in it. He thinks of you like a cute little puppy (that makes him no money whatsoever, but oh well.).

Verbally flirts with you. Well not necessarily always flirting, but thats what it feels like to you. Here are some things he will say to you:

"Hey babe, c'mere and sit on my lap, hurry up, we dont got all day!"

"Well don't you just look sweet, yeah? Are you tryin' to impress me or somethin'?"

"Cutie, go fetch daddy his wallet, yeah? Good girl, you deserve a little treat later, huh? You'd like that, would'nt ya'?"

Adam 🕊️:

Always brags about it. When talking to Lute or something, he will be like:

"Oh yeah fore sure. but y'know, y/n can just do that for me or whatever. Shes just like that."

He likes that you are obedient, but sometimes it crept him out, at least in the beginning. You were willing to do almost anything for him. He liked the premise, but it make him weary how much control he had over you.

But now? He uses it against you. He will have you do things for him, like paperwork, helping him clean himself, dressing him, kissing him on the cheek, etc.

He cant get enough of how you pamper him.

Praises you. He will call you a good girl, say your his princess, etc. In a way, they way him and Mammon praise you is very similar. The only difference, is that Adam is more reserved when it comes to praise in public, while Mammon is shameless. This is because he cares about his image in Heaven, and cant do too much under watchful eye.

Also gives you a face:

This man has such a devious grin, especially when he gets his way with you.

He does this face when he wants to rile you up. He knows he will too, since you are very compliant towards him, since he basically treats you like you two are married.

Also verbally flirts.

"Hey wifey- you look different today... did you do your hair or something? Looks hot."

"Hey babe can you do a favor for me and fetch me some water? Your the best babe, god."

"Aww you get embarrassed when your hubby pokes fun at you? Your such a snowflake babe, a cute little snowflake."

Touches you. He likes to tease your shy, pandering nature. So he likes to blow on your ear, come up behind you and pick you up, or just the occasional slap on the ass.

He loves how shy and embarrassed you become, so he will definitely enjoy continuing his antics.

[warblogs17282]

So, what relationship does Stella and Octavia have with each other exactly?

Short Answer: Evidence points to them having a really bad dynamic with each other.

Long Answer:

Let's just quickly address the fact that we've never seen Stella and Octavia actually interact with each other on screen yet. Yes, I'm aware of this, but I'm making this post thinking about what we actually know so far, and what I've gathered points to Stella not caring about Octavia. To be honest, I think the lack of elaboration on their relationship has been incredibly purposeful, with the purpose being to paint the image of what their relationship actually looks like in a sense.

Evidence 1: Stolas' Assassination Plot.

We know Stella wants Stolas killed, and at no point has Stella actually considered how Stolas' assassination would make Octavia feel, which is best evidenced by the time she screamed she wanted Stolas dead right in front of Octavia (the fact Octavia had headphones on is entirely irrelevant to the point I'm making),

and the conversation with Andrealphus in s2 e4, where both of them also did not give any fucks about how the assassination would make Octavia feel. (I'll get back to this point later on)

Evidence 2: Stella being abusive to Stolas in front of Octavia.

What this proves is that Stella is abusive towards Octavia. Many reputable sources say that what Stella is doing here is child abuse, which I'd like to mention, that it can negatively impact the child in a number of different ways, and I highly advise you check out the Barnardo's page about it if you want to learn more.

Evidence 3: "You leave with Via on weekends."

Notice how this never gets expanded on at all? It's just that, there's no specifics to it or anything, which in my eyes, potentially also points to the fact that Stella doesn't care for Octavia, because it could tell us that there's no attempt made from Stella to actually bond with Octavia, which would explain why that statement is never expanded upon. Plus, Stella literally sidetracks that statement from Stolas with "I like tormenting you. I want to keep reminding you of what you did."

Evidence 4: The beginning of s1 e2.

"Mmph. Via's calling us, Stella."

"You get up."

Notice how Stella is not concerned about the fact that Octavia is actively calling her out, and also when Octavia is clearly upset from the tone of her voice. Which shows us just how little Stella actually cared about Octavia, even when she was just a young child.

Evidence 5: The s2 e4 conversation.

"Because, my dear sister, you've already produced an heir; when he dies, his duties, his possessions, his legions, it'll all pass to.... Via."

"If you kill him, you would…."

"Laugh? Ha-"

Notice how Stella does not even pay Andrealphus any attention whatsoever when he brings up the fact that all of Stolas' stuff will go to Octavia. This alone shows just how much Stella is self-centered within her own desires, which in this specific case, was to have Stolas dead, as shown by the follow up line "Laugh? Ha-".

Which just further shows that Stella is only interested in what she wants, not taking how Octavia would feel about the assassination into consideration yet again, with that and the obvious display of her being self-centered in this scene, both of which showing further that Stella doesn't care about Octavia.

Evidence 6: "What? No! I'm not turning her against you--"

Let's be real here, Stella has already started screaming at Stolas over petty shit, so I highly doubt that Stella said this out of actual concern that he's turning Octavia against her, but instead, she said that to use it as a weaponized statement. Or you could also say that she's weaponizing that sentiment against Stolas.

Evidence 7: "I'm glad one egg fell out of me"

It's always irked me about the fact that Stella refers to Octavia as "an egg" here. Like instead of any other possible way she could possibly phrase that statement, she chooses the one that refers to Octavia as "an egg", instead of her actual name or even daughter for that matter. Which also could point to Stella not really caring about Octavia.

Evidence 8: The paintings.

The Loo Loo Land picture. Just compare Stolas' and Stella's faces in that painting, Stolas looks actually happy in it, most likely because of Octavia, while Stella on the other hand? Her smile looks quite forced to me, it's barely even there, which tells me that Stella doesn't even want to be at the family outing to Loo Loo Land, which further shows how little she actually cares for Octavia.

And if I recall correctly, that's the only picture we see both Stella and Octavia in, as shown by the other paintings where there's only Stolas and Octavia present, which combined with the forced smile in the Loo Loo Land painting, further shows us how little Stella cares for Octavia.

In conclusion: I have shown multiple clues and pieces of evidence that show that Stella most likely doesn't genuinely care for Octavia, with s2 e4 really showing how self-centered Stella is, and just how much she only cares for her own self-interests. While future episodes will most likely show us more about Stella's and Octavia's relationship, the evidence and clues within the show appear to point to the fact that Stella does not genuinely care for Octavia.

[itspileofgoodthings]

Also it’s really fascinating because in a certain way Austen finds the trope of redemption through romance/good girl fixes bad boy dead but in an even realer way Henry is just the wrong candidate for it. Or, to be even more accurate, the setup of Henry and Fanny is the wrong match for it and that’s what makes it funny. The truth is that Henry objectifies her, NOT physically. His appreciation of her beauty is hands down the most romantic thing he feels for her but he objectifies her morals and her goodness, in essence: her character. He, and in a different but equally real way Mary treat Fanny like a doll and every time she does something of quality they react with surprise and delight as if a doll had done it. The fact that the surprise and delight are genuine makes it worse because it’s even more objectifying. They’re like “look at the doll speak! The doll said something incisive and profound! The doll doesn’t even know of what quality she is made because she’s so simple! Noble simplicity!” And it is objectively condescending and—not to beat a dead horse here!!!— truly objectifying. They both see and sense her superiority to the rest of Mansfield but that doesn’t mean that they treat her like a person. Henry makes much of her, refuses to listen to what she actually wants, enlists Sir Thomas against her, feels no scruple whatsoever about putting pressure on her, and doesn’t know her well enough to know that she does “know her own mind” despite not knowing her own manner. He’s also the wrong candidate for this trope because he’s too knowing and observant. He KNOWS he’s in the trope. He’s kind of like “hmmm Fanny redeeming me, Fanny changing me, wow, love to consider it from a moral aesthetic point of view, what a flower in her cap that would be and how it would stick it to the rest of the Mansfield crew” and so he’s not set up to be surprised or charmed into compassion and real love 1) because he’s self-aware of the good it would do him and 2) because he gets ahead of the good by manipulating it for his own schemes. Alleviating boredom/sticking it to Mansfield and co. being the two main ones for as far as I can tell. He even knows that if he just waits, if he just holds out that “absence, time, and distance,” as he says, will speak for him. Will clear his way. Will work on Fanny’s heart. Because it IS a powerful trope for a reason! And especially if Edmund was out of the picture re: Mary what else would there be for her to do? But that’s the thing. He SEES the truth of it and sees the inevitability of it but only because he’s thinking of this in terms of winning—winning her, but also just winning at the scheme, pulling the con. True love doesn’t do that. The absence, time, and distance of which he’s speaking would be enacted by someone with a loving heart in such a different way because it would just be the simple act of compassion and not wanting to trouble the beloved that would be the motivator. It would be Darcy going back to his normal life after the Hunsford proposal with no intention of winning Lizzy back or determination to pursue her or need to clarify anything past the letter but still with love in his heart for her. Henry doesn’t have that love and never did and so cannot be changed by it. He plays the stakes of it all like a game and because Fanny isn’t playing it at all he loses, in every possible way.

[silaslich]

Quiet sunlit places

Simon “Ghost” Riley x f!reader [callsign - Scout]

Summary - Times change and so does Scout’s relationship with Ghost. It’s been weeks since she’s seen him and she’s happy to see him when he comes home.

Wc - 8.6k

Cw - 18+, smut, fingering, PinV sex, mention of injury, established relationship, soft Ghost, written in 3rd person with no physical description of female character whatsoever

Dreary raining England.

A sharp bite in the cold spring breeze, all wet grass and misted fog, sitting heavy in the air. Soil and earth. Petrichor permeating on the wind, carrying with it the change in season. The bloom in the flowers and the shifting shade of colour in the leaves that sit stark on the branches.

The sunrise was barely breaking over the horizon, peachy-violet sky blotched with peeling yellow clouds and tints of silvery blue. Yet, despite the hour, Scout had already been up for hours, body unable to slacken and take a back step due to the ever changing internal clock she was forced to accustom herself to.

It wasn’t a problem, not really, not when it was this peaceful back in Herefordshire.

Back at Stirling Lines, back to where it all first started for her and most of her squadron too. These training grounds and drill fields; grazed knees and busted lips, split knuckles and bruised bodies. Harsh words thrown with no true malice behind them, wet clothes sticking to skin and hours spent laying in the ankle-deep mud.

These memories. Scout could still remember the aches and the pains; pins and needles in her legs from kneeling for hours on end, her neck and shoulders sore from having to hold the weight of a teammate across her back for extraction drills, all of it felt like it were just yesterday.

Back when she was merely a wet behind the ears trooper, willing to please, awaiting her next command with the same eagerness of a heeling dog. She had always wanted to test the waters to see how far she could go; a test of her wills and patience and determination, a real taster for what was to come. For what the army would make of her. Going back to those times, it got Scout thinking, realising just how far she’d come in the years since she’d joined up.

No longer was she that cocky teenager with a big mouth and even bigger hunger for validation; desperate to fit in and find a place. Maybe her cockiness had shifted into a more self aware confidence, the self acknowledgment that she did in fact know what she was doing- and she did it fucking well.

~

She ran until she felt the familiar burn searing in her lungs. Feet hitting the ground in lengthened strikes, one two one two one two, patterned and controlled in tandem. Her lips agape, greedily heaving on air as she pushed for a sprint, arms swinging as her hair stuck to the perspiration on her forehead. She rounded the end of the field length, trainers scuffing against the tarmac as she slowed down too quickly, heaving chest straining as she braced her palms on her knees- sucking down air.

The pain was caught in her sternum, a ripened burn, sickly and exhilarating all the same. She whistled as she straightened up, stretching her spine till she was arched back slightly, swinging her arms to cross over the top of her head to allow more air into her poor-screaming lungs. Somehow, a smile found its way to her lips, toothy and giddy. Pulse racing under her skin, buzzing with so much adrenaline that she needed to walk it off, let the steam billow away on the crisp breeze as she jogged laps to sate the itch of fire in her bloodstream.

It had been weeks since the entirety of 141 had all been together under the same roof. After the explosion incident in buttfuck Mexico, it seemed the missions were now staggered; for Scout at least. Laswell’s attempt to ease her back in gently, you need to walk before you can run she’d said.

Scout had been sent on more reconnaissance based infills, gathering information, tagging phone lines and contact points, get in-get out type shit. Gaz had been more than efficient company, made it all the more easy, in and out without a hitch, without so much as a footprint in the sand.

It had been more than two months. Scout’s broken collarbone had healed within one and for a fleeting moment, as soon as she got her medical clearance, that wet behind the ears rookie was back. Waiting for more, chomping at the bit to get a move on and get down to the nitty gritty, to find some real sustenance to sink her canines into. She’d kept herself busy, not allowing the pull in her fractured ribs or the ache in her clavicle to hold her back; she hit the treadmill and ran laps, sweat slicked skin and furrowed brow, pushing through the pain - determined to keep her place within the team, unable to comprehend what would happen if she were sent on medical leave.

When the first mission from Laswell came in after Scout had healed, the soldier had actually jumped out of her chair; Price, Ghost, Soap and Gaz all eyeing her from their peripherals as Laswell continued with her brief via video call. All of them stuffed into a meeting room, blue felt chairs that were uncomfortable and small, the blinds a dusty beige, stifling atmosphere suddenly feather light to Scout with the bright prospect of leaving base.

Scout accepted without question, a swell in her chest as she insisted to Laswell that she was more then fit to take on the task, she didn’t want to focus on the blistering gaze that folded over her from across the other side of the table, she could feel it, strong and burrowing as it dug into her flesh. When the team filed out of the room to head for dinner in the canteen, Ghost had stayed behind the group, still eyeing up Scout as she fell into step with Soap, lapping up his conversation like she always did. He watched her, half her face hidden from his view, the slight stretch of her smile he could see, teeth and all, cheeks swelled with the effort of it as her eyes crinkled when Soap told a shit joke.

“What gets wetter the more it dries?” He’d asked her pointedly, elbow in her ribs with that shit smirk plastered across his face.

“I don’t know, Johnny” she’d raised a brow, leant in close to hear his reply, Soap smiled.

“A towel” his smile was audible.

Ghost had watched from a few steps back as Scout swatted at the Scotsman, told him he was a stupid git and that she would be getting him a joke book for his birthday because his were all shit.

That feeling was back in Ghost’s chest again, squirming like a can of worms, reminding him that there was in fact bones and organs beneath the hard shell of skin on the outside. Shelled like a walnut, tough and impossible to crack in a naked palm, but not hard enough to withhold its shape when pressed in a vice - forced to break and open up to reveal what’s inside.

He wanted nothing more then to maintain his distance from her, to keep her at bay and keep himself from tainting her with the sharp edges and jagged lines of him. He’d cut her if he wasn’t careful. Perfect skin bleeding crimson, scarred under his hands, bruised between his teeth, marked for everyone to see.

Ghost just couldn’t bring himself to say no to her, he tried to blame Scout, tried to convince himself that he was indulging her wishes beyond his better judgment; but that wasn’t the case. He was a cruel and selfish bastard, he wanted her to the point it was a throbbing ache deep in the marrow of his bones, and unlike before, it wasn’t just a sexual craving anymore. He craved her smile; how he’d kiss the lines that appeared on her cheeks when she did, lips as gentle as he was able. He craved her scent, that softness; rounded and sweet and so- her. Something gentle, not strong or sickly; powdery like fresh bedsheets, something soft and floral and so fucking addicting that he could never get enough of it. So much so he didn’t like washing his sheets, hated that when he did he would lay his head on his pillow at night and not catch the drifting whiff of her in his nose; sea foam and nectarines, honey and lavender. Something so unenforceable and yet; it could knock him to his knees, he didn’t know if it was her shampoo or perfume, he never asked, he just knew that he never wanted her to change it.

That was the shit that scared him, how he craved every tiny inch of her, how he wanted to pull her laugh from her chest and bottle it as if it were something rare and unseen- to Ghost, it was. He didn’t like that this is what she did to him, and from what he could deduce, she was totally and utterly oblivious to it all.

After Scout’s accident in Mexico, Ghost had lost count of how many nights he found himself reaching out for her as he tried to sleep, seeking her out in the night, wanting to call her no matter what the hour, just to hear her voice in his ear again. Another craving.

She had remained grounded at base while he was quickly sent out on his next mission. Before, Ghost would have welcomed the breathing space from her, some time for him to gather his thoughts before he would next see her again. Now though, he found himself itching to touch back down at base, counting down the minutes till he was back in the same vicinity as her, it wasn’t like him at all.

No longer was his ache for her just carnal and lust-filled, it was something that genuinely scared him, an unfamiliar feeling creeping up on him till it made him nauseous. Ghost had seen countless heinous things in his time, he’d committed them too; so why the fuck was this little soldier plaguing him so? Why the fuck was he laying awake wondering where she was or if she was okay? It was unfamiliar territory for him, and he didn’t like it one little bit.

He must have spaced out, because he didn’t even notice that she was now at his side, eyes focussed forward with a neutral expression as she struggled to match his strides. Ghost slowed for her immediately, dark eyes falling to her lip as she rolled it between her teeth, nervous. He raised a brow, expression hidden beneath his mask, as usual. Before he could speak, Scout did it for him.

“You think I shouldn’t go” it wasn’t a question, because she believed she was right.

No, that wasn’t what he thought; Ghost knew she could hold her own, he’d seen it with his own eyes, a force to be reckoned with, cataclysmic and calamitous.

He’d watched her rip a man’s throat out with a grappling hook, cornered like a feral dog with no other choice but to use what she had, she had regrouped with the team with so much blood on her that it was hard for them to tell where hers began and the enemies ended. Clumped into her lashes and sprayed across her cheeks, drying and flaking from the dry humid air but with no option to wash up. There were too many times to recall in which Scout had turned, like a switch in her head; snapped necks and gauged eyes, bullets lodged through skulls and countless enemies drowned in shallow buckets even after giving up the information she came for.

There was no way Ghost could perceive her as soft or fragile, convince himself that she needed protecting or shielding from the throws of war, she was very much in-tune with it all. She was a force of nature, beautiful yet all so fucking devastating, an unstoppable potency of might behind those strong eyes. A fold of determination knitted into her brow almost every time he looked at her when out in the field, she was strong willed with a compulsion to fight, engrained into the fibres of her bones, it was in her fucking DNA.

Ghost blinked down at her and she finally cocked her head to meet his gaze, he could see it, she was going to go on that mission regardless of what he had to say, but part of her was reluctant.

Reluctant in the sense that she knew her sense of judgment would, more often then not, come before his. Yes, he was her lieutenant and yes she would follow orders, but when things boiled down; Scout wouldn’t take things laying down, if it was her life on the line for the sake of her team or a larger narrative, then her funeral was already planned.

The lieutenant looked ahead, the others too distracted as they made their way to the stairwell that led downstairs to the food hall, he darted his eyes from her to them a few times before he finally pounced. His fingers tightened around the fabric sitting on Scout’s shoulders, throwing his eyes back over his shoulder as he pushed her into a doorway that sat at the top of the stairwell, around a corner and well hidden.

She gasped but Ghost was quick to press a gloved hand over her mouth, snuffing out the noise, he jutted his chin- watching over the solid wall of the banister separating them from the stairs below, the boys were long gone. When he turned his gaze back to her it made his stomach lurch with that familiar licking heat at the base of his spine, coiling to the forefront; she was wide eyed, neck craned back to look at him better, he could so easily shove her to her knees right here. Fuck her throat till she sobbed and spluttered nonsense around his cock, what he would fucking give.

Ghost removed his hand from her mouth, her pretty lips agape as she breathed in deep, eyes suddenly all glossy and wide for him. He couldn’t help but find her pretty like this, secretly tucked away with him, preempting his movement as her head swam. She probably thought he’d press her against the wall, hook her leg over his hip and fuck her silly till he convinced her not to take the mission; but as much as the thought tempted him, he couldn’t do that.

He raised his hand instead, a soft gesture as he pressed his gloved palm to her cheek, running his thumb over the small stretched scar that now sat there. A marred line of silvery-pink splitting her cheek - contrasting to the smooth of her skin, a reminder that back in Mexico, Ghost hadn’t quite been quick enough.

She practically purred at his touch, pressing into him, her own hand coming to lay over his.

“I don’t care if you go” he finally said, words gruff in that deep throaty tone of his. She frowned, barely enough for him to catch but still enough for him to notice, his eyes flashed.

“I just need you to come back” he cocked his head at her, pressing his gaze into her as if he would be able to see the cogs turn and gears whirr. Scout closed her mouth, mulling over his words, digesting the real meaning behind them -

I just need you to come back to me

She had nodded gently, eyes softening as she began to understand. Ghost didn’t flinch away when she moved her hand from his and pressed it against the hem of his mask, tugging it up from where it was tucked into his collar, shoving it up till it sat against the bridge of his nose; after that he hadn’t needed guiding, hadn’t needed Scout to initiate anymore. He’d kissed her till her knees wobbled, clinging to his shoulder as his tongue curled over her teeth, unable to keep himself from falling into her.

Scout had to shove him away with considerable force and remind him that they’d miss lunch if he wasn’t careful.

“I can have something else for lunch” he’d growled lowly in her ear, cupping her pussy through her jeans as she stifled her moan in the collar of his jacket, fisting it tight in her hands.

That was three weeks ago, now. In the time since then herself and Gaz had been sent on their reconnaissance assignment and returned. Soap and Ghost had been sent on a hostage evacuation in Russia; somewhere close to Moscow.

A politician, of course, had gotten caught up in the wrong kind of people, it was always the same thing time after time. All about the money and the power, blackmailing and illegal trading, the team had seen it more times than they cared to count. Yet, they still shipped out, because they’re still pressed under the thumbs of the government at the end of the day.

As Scout continued to try and settle the adrenaline buzzing away under her skin; walking her third lap of the training yard, a familiar whistle whipped and echoed around the emptiness of the air, catching her attention. She turned toward the sound, eyes narrowing as they fell on a tall figure, mohawk too hideous to miss. She smiled and moved to jog toward him, breath fanning back across her face as she neared closer to him.

Soap must have only just gotten back, his thick weathered jacket was zipped to his chin and his neck gaiter was sitting snug around his throat and pulled to his lips. He looked tired and content, undoubtedly a mission success, his hands were folded lazily in his pockets as he watched Scout come closer.

The man held out his palm to her, Scout clapping her own against it and gripping it, pulling him toward her and pressing her other palm against his shoulder, tucking herself into his side for a hug as the scent of him drifted into her nose. He smelled of gunpowder and old coins, something else spicy yet sturdy mingling on the soft skin of this throat.

“Long time no see, sarg” she’d smiled, stepping back out of his space, folding her arms over her chest as she did. He cocked his head toward her.

“It’s been a while hasn’t it, lass” a soft smile slanted across his mouth, eyes rolling over her features as he looked at her.

There was no way she could help it, but Scout let her eyes quickly dart to the space behind the sergeant, hoping his hulking British counterpart wasn’t far behind. She refocused her attention quickly, grateful that Soap was looking around the training yard, noting she was out here all by herself.

The smaller soldier palmed the back of her neck, rolling it out. “When did you get back in?”

Soap met her eye, “just” he said, “Ghost’s debriefing Laswell as we speak” he sounded tired, his accent thicker and trickier to decipher than it usually was. It wasn’t surprising, it’s hard to get used to the ever changing pace the military forces down their throats, even if they do get time to shut their eyes, it’s never peaceful. In a foreign country, miles from home soil, the prospect of a blood filled brawl looming over their head - it’s not exactly a recipe for peaceful slumber.

Soap’s eyes drifted back out into the training yard, the fog was lifting, a veil of it attempting to cloud the sunrise as it bloomed over the horizon. Orange and blue.

Scout stood beside him, close enough to feel the heat of him against the sweat cooling on her skin, she followed his gaze as he broke the silence. “D’ya remember when we first met you?” He tipped his chin slightly as he asked, eyes falling to Scout’s to gage her reaction, as if he wanted to watch her replay the memory in her head.

She smiled, “how could I forget?”

Going back years, now, back when Scout wasn’t Scout. When she was just a soldier; a number pulled from a hat, one standing in the line of many. That was before she was handpicked for her remarkable skill and technical ability, known only by her last name and her title; sergeant. A holder of drill records and the subject of many conversations between soldiers. The one with the big mouth and wavering temper, the one who spoke her truth and her mind, and had the skills to back up her words too.

Price had found her, or rather, she had been found for him. Put forward and recommended time after time, with each new mission or special task force assembled, her name was shoved into the hands of captains and generals alike. Her temper and sharp tongue got in the way a lot of the time, because for each time she was written up for standing up for herself or holding her ground, it only had another opportunity scratched for her.

Until Price was made aware of her, until a file attachment found its way to his emails with video link after video link of this sergeant in action during training. She was quick and nimble; a near perfect shot as a sniper and a dab hand at demolition, even her hand to hand was remarkable, against opponents much bigger and stronger than her. Her statistics spoke for themselves, it was all there in black and white, she was undoubtedly an asset.

Captain Price snapped her up at the first chance he got. He read over her records, he wasn’t put off by the write ups, didn’t even make him question her for a second. It made him think about how well she might fit into his varied team, simply another personality to add to the handful of others he already had clashing in the group, there was nothing more that could surprise him. Especially not after Soap, that time he’d punched a military police officer, there was little more that could stop Price from accepting someone into his force.

The transfer had been a quick turn around. With her gear packed she was shipped off on her way, a truck carrying her to her new base, her new home away from home.

As the tires rolled across the tarmac and crunched to a stop, the sergeant had stolen a gaze out of her window, met with what looked to be her entire team. Four men and a woman, she recognised the woman as Kate Laswell, and one of the men as her new Captain - having met him before the transfer. The rest of the men she had yet to meet, for obvious reasons, and she half thought she would get time to retrieve her bag before she was forced to face her new team. Obviously not.

She jumped out of the vehicle, gear weighing her down as her boots collided with the concrete. It was dead silent and she had the subconscious urge to fill it, if this is what this team was like, she had a feeling her personality wouldn’t fit in well here. She stepped forward, flipping her cap around so it’s visor faced backwards, better for her to make eye contact with the tall men standing sturdy in front of her. The sergeant left her bag in the truck, immediately stepping forward toward her new team, and that’s when she caught it.

“Who let the Boy Scouts start signin’ up?”

The voice was low and stoney, it made her bristle, clenching her teeth as her eyes darted toward the source of the snide comment. She was met with a mask. A balaclava stitched with a skull around the lower jaw, dark eyes glaring pointedly at her like she’d done something to purposefully offend the man. She took the bait. “Same ones who let pricks like you rank up” she’d said it before she registered it, too used to her own base, throwing insults back at soldiers who made quips and remarks day in-day out. For a split second, she’d forgotten where she was, the muscle memory of the verbal self defence too engrained for her to stop it.

Two of the men whistled, she later learned they were Gaz and Soap, the latter patting the masked man on the shoulder as he recoiled from her remark. “That Boy Scout is a fuckin lass, L.t” the Scotsmen roared a laugh, and for a second she thought it was directed at her, but it was in fact directed at the man in the mask. She quickly realised, not only had she insulted a member of her team, he was her new Lieutenant. She froze in her step, eyes still locked with the mask and she saw something flash within his irises, it was a quick fleeting realisation for him. He had thought she was a man, a small one, with the cap and the gear he’d failed to register from a distance that she was a woman.

Only when she came closer into his clear view and spoke did he realise she was female, the softness in her cheeks and the lines of her body screamed anything but Boy Scout.

From that day forward she had been dubbed; Scout. An endearing inside joke between the team that would stay with her until she resigned from duty or died out on the field. A nickname she grew to love, because of the man who had ultimately given it to her, forever reminding both of them of their first ever interaction, even if it wasn’t the way they wished it had gone.

On her first mission shipping out with 141, Scout had been going through her pack, rearranging and swapping things out to put things in, going over it all over and over again until it gave her a headache. She emptied a front pocket, undoing the zip to find a scrunch of folded paper stuffed inside of it. She tentatively pulled it out, curious, finding a swirl of bold writing scratched into it. A simple sorry with a tiny drawing of a skull etched into the paper next to it.

She would never tell him, but Scout still had that piece of paper saved- carried in the front pocket of her vest wherever she went.

Soap and Scout stood there in the cold, stupid slanting smiles as they reminisced on their past, light memories of better times. When none of them were injured and they worked on base together for weeks at a time to strengthen their bond as a team, now it felt as if they were passing ships.

The relationship between Scout and the Scotsman was rooted in the same boar-headedness and alike ideals. They were so similar it caused them to butt heads a lot of the time, always trying to one up each other in the sense that they both lacked self preservation, always willing to throw their life in the mix when things got tricky.

Ghost didn’t like it; he had to do enough babysitting with just Soap alone, keeping a rein on his outlandish ideas and suicide plans - then Scout had come along and shoved her stick into the pot.

Despite their similarities when it came to work ethics, they were vastly different in personality. While the Scot was loudmouthed, extroverted and downright unabashed with the attention his presence warranted; Scout was much more reserved, adding her ten pence where it mattered, but watching from the sidelines - not at all wanting the attention to drift to her.

Yet, it always did, inevitably, a lass like her- in a job like this. It drew attention, all of it Ghost hated; drunkards in pubs that would slink up to her at the bar and beg to buy her a drink, the rookies on base were the worst of it all, a constant dick measuring contest between them, desperate to see who could get her to bite first.

Much to Ghost’s pleasure, Scout did always bite, just not they way they were intending.

The day Scout got pulled in by the higher ups for breaking a kids wrist had, undoubtedly, been one of the best days of Ghost’s life.

He’d watched it all unfold, not bothering to intervene as he continued to finish his reps on the chest pull, eyes watching intently as the rookie sidled up to her from across the gym with his chest puffed out, daring to let his hand slide over the small of Scout’s back as she leant down to tie her shoelace. It was like a whip cracking, so quick you’d miss it if you blinked, her concise movement and perfect angle had snapped the poor bastards wrist in two, the shrieking wail of pain he let out having everyone in the gym bristling and swivelling their heads.

Scout hadn’t said a single word to him, barely broken a sweat, not even a slight change to her expression.

She’d stood her ground when they threatened to discharge her; told them that she had every right to do what she did, that it was an engrained reflex, a tick from the army, a reaction to any kind of foreign touch that she wasn’t expecting. Ghost knew she’d blagged it, played it smart, fed them what they didn’t want to hear. She was safe on base, for the most part - especially with Ghost there, and Scout didn’t have as many years under her belt as Ghost did. So when she told them that it was purely a chemical reaction in her brain after the years of fighting and looking over her shoulder, they had no option but to send her on her way with merely a slap on the wrist.

Safe to say she was given a wide birth around base after that.

That’s when Ghost had realised; Scout was so much like him, and maybe that’s why they understood each other so well. Both basking in the shadows, watching from afar yet still engaging in conversation when it was needed, a preference to remain settled in the background. Ghost’s was an aversion to the socialising, he was calculated in his thoughts, eyes always watching the exits and doorways, knife sheathed in his waistband at all times. It wasn’t paranoia, he was just well versed enough to know that this line of work would catch up to him somewhere one day, he just didn’t know when and where.

Whereas Scout was simply quieter in her nature, she’d aged in her years of service; despite the stories Price and other soldiers had to tell of a young spitfire with no filter and a habit of getting into bar fights, Ghost struggled to imagine that of her. Even when they went to the pub on a rare occasion, she’d barely finish the one rum and coke she would order, sipping at it gingerly as she watched Soap chat up a bird across the bar. The Scot had called her boring once, a night of respite in Galway, drunk words spitting at her to pull the stick out of her arse every once in a while; she’d sat quiet, eyeing Soap as she took another sip, unbothered about engaging with him.

Ghost had his suspicions, expected she wasn’t one to hold her alcohol well, she’d either spin someone’s jaw or spill her feelings for all to see - but it was abundantly clear; she didn’t want to do either of those things in front of these boys. Maybe if she was just another soldier, a troop in a squadron, pulled out of line by her number; but she wasn’t. She was special forces, she had earned her place here amongst them, and she wasn’t about to put it in jeopardy over embarrassment or image issues.

It was another hour before Ghost was done with his debrief to Laswell.

Scout wouldn’t admit it, but she milled around, walking through the corridors, eyeing the ceiling or watching as her boots scuffed the floor. She managed a shower between making her rounds of the base, had little more to do than wait for him, it was like this every time, some way or another, he would find her.

It was only when she bumped into Price that she noticed something off- because he was on the phone to Laswell.

The captain mouthed a greeting but continued on his way, speaking into his phone with a hushed voice. That in itself wasn’t abnormal, Price was always wrapped up with other duties; a constant stack of files atop his desk that he loathed having to sort through, more often then not he had to get someone to physically lock him into his office so it would get done.

What was strange on the other hand- was Ghost’s absence. Sometimes, when he’d had a rough go at it on a mission he would return sour. Cut himself off and shut himself away to gather himself, lick his metaphorical wounds in secret like a battered dog. Scout understood it, any soldier did, it’s hard to speak openly about what they see when they’re out there, it’s even hardener to try and get it off their chest - because anyone in the closest proximity has seen the same, if not worse. It’s not the nicest feeling to dump shit on someone that already has a growing closet of their own skeletons.

Ghost wasn’t privy to Scout’s skeletons, much like she wasn’t his. They weren’t there yet, maybe they never would be, but regardless; they still understood. One of the few unspoken things between them, it seemed like they just knew what was and wasn’t needed. She didn’t pry into his past, him the same regarding her, because they both knew that they weren’t ready to play therapist. It was enough to deal with what was coming and going, dealing with the present - the now.

They’d deal with the rest when they were dead.

When Scout’s thoughts started to trail away from her, the ping of her phone drew her attention. It was embarrassing how quick she wrenched it from her pocket, eyes dancing over the notification with a new found excitement.

Come to bed

Read: 10:17am

Short. Concise. To the point. A point Scout had no room in her chest to argue with.

If someone asked her what Ghost was to her, she wasn’t sure what she would say. This, arrangement between them, it had clearly gone past the point of a physical use of one another to strip away the tension and angst of war. No longer was it just simply fucking, of course the sex had started as the deeper rooted catalyst, but the sex was - dare she say, tender.

Before, it hurt, because it needed to hurt; Scout had wanted it to hurt. She hurt him as much as he hurt her, blood under her nails and on her tongue, teeth stained with him. That’s what it had all been about, drawing that pain from within one another, using it as a crutch instead of drowning themselves with tumbler after tumbler of whiskey or numbing it all with prescription opioids.

When the two of them had first crossed the line; it had been a spur of the moment drunken fumbling. Back then, Scout had told herself that wether it was Soap, Gaz or Ghost who put the offer out there, she wouldn’t have minded. Because she needed to relieve that coiling burn in her chest and abdomen, it felt like she would go insane if she didn’t.

Now, she slipped into his room carefully, latch clicking back into place as she shut it quietly. It was dark, the only light being that of the steadily waking sky, flittering through the cracks above and below the shoddy curtains that didn’t quite reach across the entire window. It wasn’t dark enough that she couldn’t seek him out, he blended with the shadows, but Scout was sure she could seek him out even if she was blind and deaf with her hands cut off. She could make out the outline of him, framed in a wave of heat that rolled from him, steady even breathing fanning freely from his nose.

His mask was off.

He didn’t move, didn’t so much as flinch as his dark eyes watched her, like a predator waiting to pounce, a crocodile watching as a sweet deer drinks from the watering hole. Soon between its teeth, weak noises bleeding out with its last ragged breath.

Scout stopped at the foot of his bed, tugging off her shoes before she dug her knees into his mattress, making her way closer.

He shifted “take it all off” his voice rasped, low and full of sleep. Gravel and ice. It sent heat licking down her spine, a shiver running straight down to her toes. Of course, she obliged, she stepped off the bed again and did as asked, dutiful soldier she was - anything for her Lieutenant.

Again, she couldn’t see him, not entirely, but she could feel his gaze. How he practically stripped her with his own eyes, boring through her skin and deep into the marrow of her bones. It made her slick between her thighs, just the thought of him had her pressing her knees together. She ached for him, felt the pull in her muscles every time he fucked her like it would be the last time, because one day - it just might just be.

Scout joined him again, she heard him shift, sitting straighter against the wall at the head of his bunk. Now she was close, her thigh pressing into his as he pulled her closer by the wrist, she felt the coarse hair on his leg against her flesh. He was already stripped bare himself, save for his boxers, freshly showered and warm- he was entirely and utterly open.

His fingers didn’t release from around her wrist, he tugged till she was awkwardly strewn across his lap, his other hand shifting to hold the base of her neck, bringing the top of her head to his lips.

“Fuckin’ missed you” all smoke and gunpowder in her ears, so low it was almost a whisper. He took a long drag into his nostrils, already on his way to being high off her scent, shampoo from her hair fresh and sweet to his senses. Scout pressed her palms against his chest, the heat almost burning, feverish under her fingertips.

“I missed you too” she let the words drift to him, even if the light was too dim, she still couldn’t bring herself to match his gaze. Maybe he had said it first, but that could easily be put down to the jet lag, delirious from the lack of sleep and the draining aftermath once the adrenaline of a mission washes away.

Ghost grumbled something low, pure sex as it rose from the depths of his chest. His palm slid from the back of her head to her neck, then to her throat, light pressure as he pulled her mouth flush to his. Scout keened, palm holding his jaw as his tongue slid over hers, claiming her mouth. The dance was well rehearsed, each move in tandem, like running through a check list. His hands roamed, tugging her as close as she could possibly be- any closer and she’d melt into him.

The only barrier between their sexes were their underwear, sliding friction of her clothed pussy against the strain in his boxers. Ghost growled in his throat as Scout moved to straddle him, knees splitting painfully wide over his hips, ass seated on the meat of his glorious thighs. Their mouths never parted, cresting teeth biting into her lip as she gasped, calloused palms kneading the flesh of her thighs and ass till she mewled. She was so wet already, soaked to her core, slick and hot and ready for him to ruin her again and again.

“Fuck” she whispered against his mouth, biting smile curling his mouth afterwards as he rubbed his stubbled jaw into the soft crook of her neck, inhaling the scent of her skin. Scout was more intoxicating than any whiskey or bourbon Ghost was yet to encounter, more addicting in the same sense, a sturdy punch to the gut.

Ghost leaned forward, uncoiling his arm from behind her back, pressing his fingers into the sopping fabric covering the cleft of her pussy, teasing. She cowered, practically shivering under his touch, so keen for him that it made her shake. His other hand gripped her chin, pinched between his thumb and forefinger, Scout focused her eyes- noticing she could just about catch the fleeting light in those amber-hickory eyes.

It sent another shiver down her spine, liquid want pooling in her belly, drawing her even closer into him. She pressed forward, kissing him again, raking her tongue over his teeth with any ounce of dominance she could muster; Ghost grinned against her mouth, how bold of her, he would let her take as much as she was willing.

He revelled in the way she reacted to him. In every sense, her body; the way he could merely look at her from across a room and she’d cross her legs, he didn’t miss the little gestures. He didn’t even have to touch her to get under her skin, just his gaze and presence alone could draw things from her.

He wished he could watch it back, still letting her kiss him with a feverish clash of teeth and small-calloused hands gripping the skin of his tummy, her nails raking deep into his skin as he took her off guard. All of the air from her lungs was punched out when Ghost curled two thick digits into her cunt, crooking against her gummy walls, so slick for him already. She screwed her eyes shut, head thrown back as she squirmed, grinding down against the friction of his hand. He hummed, feeling how she dripped onto his wrist, the smell of her arousal already tacky in the air, lust and sex stifling the air in his room.

“So fuckin’ tight darlin’” he rasped, lips sucking a bruise between her tits as he leant forward, angling his wrist to reach even deeper, drawing all the best sounds from her pretty throat.

“Shit- Simon” she whined, lip between her teeth as she arched backwards, palms pressing against his shins as she worked herself on his fingers, pressing her tits into his face as he sucked and lapped at the tender skin there.

She never tired of it. Couldn’t, even if she tried, she would never meet another man or woman that would make her feel the way Ghost was able. It was as if he knew her body, knew what made her tick, almost like he could feel it - somatic.

Scout near enough shrieked when he pressed the pad of his thumb against her clit, a new found urge to make her cum driving its way deep in his chest. He added another finger, screwing into her, splitting her open so she could easily take his cock. She savoured it, amusing him when she bucked her hips, rolling them against the strokes of his hands, meeting him halfway.

“Look at you, gorgeous, so desperate to be filled” she could taste his smirk when he claimed her lips in another filthy kiss, smothering her down, any noise from her dissipating when he curled his fingers in that way he knew she liked, she craved it. Scout couldn’t help it, couldn’t even think about keeping quiet, she was panting against his skin, fogging him up.

“Fuck- I’m-“ she swallowed, throat dry, “I’m gonna cum like this” she tells him but he already knows, gladly acknowledges the fluttering of her walls around the notches of his knuckles.

“Go on then” he presses, teasing her clit again, rocking the heel of his palm against her in rhythm, watching as she throws her head back just as her world shatters.

She’s always so pretty when she cums he thinks, he’d give an arm or a leg to watch the sight over and over again whenever he wished, no missions or obligations to keep her from him. It’s selfish, but he can’t seem to give a shit, not when he’s got her here like this, curled into him, fucking herself on his hand, all to get her ready to split open on his cock.

Before it’s fully settled, her orgasm fizzing out, she’s grabbing at him, shoving his boxers down his thighs with an awkward tug that makes him smirk, lifting his hips as she manhandles him to make it easy for her. Ghost almost bites through his bottom lip when he watches her, pretty pink tongue running from the heel of her palm to the tip of her fingers, wetting it to get him slick, pressing her hand to his cock and curling her fingers around him - it makes him choke. He rumbles in his chest, it’s been so long since he’s had her, too long since he’s had her smell under his nose and his skin under his fingers, it sets a coil of resentment settling in his chest. Fuck whatever power in the universe that keeps pulling them in opposite directions, Ghost is a smart man, but his patience and loyalty to his work be damned; right now, he’d give it all up for her.

His hands settle at her hips when she shifts, angles herself up, resting higher on her knees so she can press the head of his cock between the slicked folds of her pussy, get him soaked in her juices so the sting doesn’t bite too hard. Because it will, it’s been weeks, longer than he’s been away because he hadn’t wanted to hurt her when she was injured - no matter how hard she tried to convince him that she’d be fine.

Ghost’s fingers sink right to the bones in her hips when she begins to press herself down onto him, inch by torturous fucking inch she goes, rocks her hips so the head catches something fleshy inside, makes his eyes roll like marbles in his skull.

“Christ” she bites out, jaw clenched, features of that pretty face twisted in pain. Such a brave girl he thinks - knows, always trying to put on a front, even as she fucks herself on his cock. He reaches a big paw up, slides it over her cheek and holds her still, those teary eyes looking at him like he holds the world in his hand - right now, he does.

“Breathe, love” he whispers, tenderly, as best he can.

She nods at him, matches the way he takes a deep breath in and out, helps her flatten her pelvis to his, sunken to the hilt, stuffed to the brim with his cock and his adoration. It’s a sickly feeling, how soft he can be, how he reserves it all for her, stuffs her full of it till it all spills over: drowning her in it.

Scout rolls her hips forward, catching friction on the thatch of hair at his groin, pressing her chest to his so their flesh slicks up together, her nipples catching over his chest, too close for comfort and yet still not close enough.

“You’re so good” he lets free, jaw slack as he mouths over her jaw, chaste open-mouth kisses littered over any patch of skin he can reach. His words make her chest swell, fuzzy and static, too much warmth from him that makes her clench around his cock. Scout slurs a curse under her breath.

“Never get used to this” she breathes, whispers it into his throat when he presses up and forward, fucking up into her so her tits sway against him and she’s forced to brace her hands onto his biceps.

“Me neither, darlin’” he sucks a bruise into her throat, feeling how it makes her pussy walls tighten, fluttering around him, coaxing his release out of him like she’s moulded for him.

Neither of them last, she’s already ahead of him, but it doesn’t take much for Ghost to see the light, bathed in the starchy blissful heat that sears every nerve ending in his body, wringing him out for everything he’s worth. He can’t help himself, he presses the pad of his thumb to her sore clit even as she’s cumming, pumping her cunt full of his cum, brimming at the seams till it leaks back out and smothers between where their hips press tightly together. She pulls out everything he has to offer, seizing it all and not letting anything be left behind, only then does she sag into him. Pressed into each other as lays atop him, face tilted up so her jaw sits in the space between his neck and his jaw, only inches between their faces.

He never used to; but he’s become accustomed to the afterglow, it’s no longer a looming and harrowing afterthought that dowses him in ice-cold reality. He basks in it now, heaving breaths that intwine with hers, nothing but the scent of sex and her skin under his nose. Pressed close.

She closes her eyes, takes it in, enjoys this time like it’s a saints gift, a holy touch. It’s rare these days, that she gets him like this, it’s not just the quick fucking between intervals, her trousers around her knees as he fucks her quick and messy somewhere secluded, tidying her up afterward and sending her on her way with a deadly smack to the arse. This is different, the part she’s growing to like too much, unknowing that he too thinks the world of this time. He finds he wants time to stop entirely, not just for the sex, but just for holding her close like this, feeling the thrum of her heartbeat as it knocks into his. Both alive and well.

Ghost slides his hand up from where it’s laid over the small of her back, that curve of her spine he likes to rake his teeth over, his hand settles on her cheek again, makes her open those pretty eyes of hers to look at him. He doesn’t say anything, the touch speaks volumes, so much so that she meets him in the middle, pushes her self up enough that she can seal her lips over his. It’s tender, sickly and sweet in a way he reserves only for these times; the two of them fucking in the safety of his bed or hers behind a locked door. Not because he’s shameful or embarrassed of her, not at all, but because he takes off the mask for her - strips Ghost away entirely so that it’s only Simon that remains.

He’s sure she knows by now, she’s not that dense, but she doesn’t make a big deal of it, she keeps it to herself like the special thing it is. Another line is stepped over, anymore and there will be no going back, but it seems neither of them want to.

Both too reliant on one another to keep each other alive and kicking.

[thewertsearch]

And now we have to deal with this motherfucker.

It’s probable that Scratch knew things would play out like this, which means this message was always intended for Karkat.

...it's probable that that's the case, but there's always a slight possibility that we're in one of his dark pockets. If so, then Karkat wasn't supposed to see this message, and might be about to learn something Scratch doesn't want him to know.

Mr. Vantas.

Dang it.

I'm delivering this message through the console of one of my numerous unwitting proteges to give you a word of advice, and then you will not hear from me again.

Characteristically unhelpful - and in fact, it might not refer to either of Eridan's victims. We still have Tavros's corpse to deal with, and I'm sure there'll be more bodies hitting the floor before the day is out.

All of the bodies in the room remain as they were. There is clearly nothing to be concerned about whatsoever.

Feferi has an eldritch connection through the Horrorterrrors, and they could probably pull some dark magical shenanigans to get her body moving again. I think that's unlikely, though, since Feferi's ghost is active in the Dream Bubbles, and I don't think she'd actually want to be revived. After all, she's go a job to do.

I'm still convinced that Kanaya's coming back, but it's hardly going to happen while our back is turned. We're out of Kernelsprites, so she can't be prototyped - and we can't use her Dream Moon Slab, if it even exists, because Prospit's been destroyed by Jack.

Frankly, I can't think of a single realistic way to revive her short of time travel, and that's not a road we want to go down. I'm really trying not to think about what that might mean.

I guess that leaves Tavros.

There's definitely something going on with him that we don't understand. He was about to smooch Vriska before she stopped him, and the Breath symbolism surrounding the act makes me think it was more than just a typical Dream Self revival kiss. He has a hidden power, and that power seems to kick in when someone's dying.

Could Tavros be a little less dead than we've been led to believe? It's possible - his arc doesn't scan as complete to me. He'd only obtained the merest shred of confidence before Vriska brought him fatally down to earth, and I think there are still many interesting places you could take his character.

CG: THERE YOU ARE, YOU HAD ME WORRIED DUDE […] CG: QUIT THE BULLSHIT PARTYCLOWN ANTICS AND GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE. […] TC: shut up. CG: WHAT… TC: I SAID SHUT THE MOTHERFUCK UP, MOTHERFUCKER. TC: honk honk honk :o)

Gamzee’s rocking a new quirk. He’s still swapping cases, but they’re alternating every message rather than every character, as though his mind is less scrambled than it used to be.

Could this be how he talks when he's off the slime? He already seems more aware than before, and his grumpiness evokes a hangover - but he's honking more than he used to, which is the opposite of what I'd expect if he was sober.

CG: SERIOUSLY, GET BACK HERE NOW, AND HAVE A SLIME PIE TO RELAX OR SOMETHING. TC: SLIME? TC: there is no more slime, brother. TC: AND ANYWAY. TC: shit was motherfuckin poison, didn't you know?

Yup. It looks like Gamzee’s gone cold featherbeast.

It's not a great time for this to happen, but it's not like we can stop it now. I highly doubt Gamzee was forward-thinking enough to reproduce his pies through alchemy, and things are a little too tense right now to try getting clever with an Appearifier. For better or worse, his supply has dried up for the foreseeable future.

So now, for the first time, we're interacting with a Gamzee who isn't out of his mind on soporifics. His shift in personality is already pretty drastic, and I'm interested in seeing what the real Gamzee is like.

[blueskittlesart]

pleeease give a review for infinity nikki ive been thinking about downloading it but i dont know if i have the space and if its worth it to clear some up for it !!!

as someone who spent HOURS on flash-based dollmakers as a kid, i absolutely love it. the gameplay hits somewhere between dressup game and open-world RPG, in that there's a large botw-like open map to explore, but the express purpose of exploring it is to unlock new clothes for your character. The exploration itself feels very calm and cozy most of the time, with the emphasis being on small collection tasks like fishing, bug-catching, and foraging. again, all of this is specifically to craft new outfits for nikki which you can both coordinate with no limitations to wear in the open world and use in scored styling contests with npcs, some of which reward you with game currency and some of which help you progress the story quests. the only place where i feel the gameplay truly suffers is in combat. you have one attack, and it's a ranged shooter, but there's no aim-assist whatsoever, and the mobile joystick isn't NEARLY sensitive enough to justify this. aiming in combat is one of the most difficult parts of the game, and nikki can only take 5 hits before she dies and has to respawn, making combat decently frustrating. However, there are very few places where combat is strictly necessary in-game, and both of the boss battles i've done so far had hitboxes large enough that it wasn't an issue; it's really in the open world against hordes of smaller enemies that the lack of targeting becomes really frustrating. other than that, though, the controls are fairly well-designed and intuitive, especially if you've played similar games before.

The clothes themselves are the star of the show, of course. I've yet to see a single clothing item in the game that I don't want. there's a good mix of fancy intricate outfit pieces and basics to obtain early-on, and without even touching the gacha you can coordinate some really cute outfits via in-universe boutiques and quests that reward you with clothes. Even the very obviously themed ability outfit sets that you craft early on almost always have a few pieces that are easy to mix and match with, so there's a TON of styling potential even for free players! As for the gacha, it's actually one of the more generous games i've played in terms of rewards and pity systems. My one complaint so far is that the 5-star gacha outfits especially seem to be very accessory-heavy, meaning it's possible to pull shoes, multiple necklaces, gloves, socks, and hairpieces before ever pulling the dress they're very obviously designed around. there is a pity mechanic to prevent this, but it requires you to pull a few too many times before your guarantee imo.

The story is ridiculous in a good way. It kind of reads like a 2000s-era barbie movie to me right now, in the best way possible. there's an amazingly predictable sexy villain, cute little flying creatures that follow you around, and every conflict is, of course, solved via clothes in one way or another. My absolute favorite thing about the writing, though, is how blatantly earnest it all is. at no point does the game poke fun at its own wacky concept or even attempt to make some self-aware joke about it to the player--it plays everything completely straight, and in this aspect it almost feels MORE self-aware. it knows that the kind of person who wants to play a dressup rpg is also the kind of person who does not, under any circumstances whatsoever, want to be questioned or made fun of for their love of fashion or their engagement with that game. It very much feels like the devs know that they're working with primarily girls and young women and a subject matter that those girls and young women are often looked down upon or made fun of for seriously engaging with, and so it promises to engage EXTRA-seriously to make up for that. (side note: there's one point in a story quest where, when asked to make a wish, nikki wishes that all girls never get cramps again. that was when i knew this was a game that knew its audience.) If I wanted to nitpick, i might say that every quest so far has sort of felt like an increasingly ridiculous trading sequence--you learn what you need to do very early on, but you'll always spend several hours of gameplay encountering obstacles and doing other smaller tasks to circumvent those obstacles so you can reach your original goal. this might annoy me more if the game was trying to market itself as a serious RPG, but it seems very self-aware to me, and despite how i'm describing it none of the quests ive played have actually FELT tedious. I think the fact that it's such a wild concept to begin with gives the writers a bit of leeway in how they handle the story quests, and because I as the player am aware i'm playing a dressup game I don't really expect quests to immediately get to the point and let me fight something. I will say that there are certain things that aren't super intuitive especially if you aren't a seasoned gacha rpg player, particularly the features relating to advancing your skills and the styling points of your clothing. though the game does technically explain what you need to do, it doesn't explain the RELEVANCE of the feature, just that it exists, so I had to lose multiple styling contests before I realized i could upgrade my clothing to get higher scores.

The final thing I'll talk about is performance. I'm playing the game on my iphone 13, and the performance is.... not great, i'm ngl. Off the bat, if you play the game on a mobile device, you're going to be getting a HEAVILY scaled-down version of the terrain graphics. all of those screenshots you see online of beautiful terrain full of flowers and particle effects are from ps5s or custom pcs. truthfully, the mobile app looks like a game from 2012 and it will still turn your phone into an incinerator. I've also encountered multiple graphics bugs, some during pivotal scenes, and I get consistent lags when playing for longer than a few hours, likely due to the strain on my phone's hardware. it's also an INSANE battery drain, so i only play when my phone is plugged in. All that being said, the game has been out for less than a week, so visual bugs are inevitable, and the developers have stated that mobile optimization is a priority, so hopefully we'll at the very least no longer have to overheat our devices to play it soon. Also worth noting, from what I've seen the rendering of the CLOTHING doesn't suffer AT ALL on mobile devices. presumably they sacrificed terrain rendering to allow for such beautiful texturing on the clothing itself, which, given that the clothing is the main focus of the game, I can't fault them for. Basically, if you're going to try to run an unreal engine game on your iphone, be aware that it will run like an unreal engine game on an iphone. and prepare yourself to have to let your device cool down every few hours.

tldr: i love the game so far. i'm really excited to keep playing and see where the story goes, and I think they should make more games for girls <3

[castillon02]

“You ‘have amnesia,’” Dr. Sharma repeated, her eyebrows arched. 

“Oh yes,” Q said. He cheerfully waved his hand at his bandaged head. “Mugged this morning. Terribly traumatic. Physically, not mentally, since I don’t remember any of it, of course.” 

Dr. Sharma’s eye twitched. “I see.” Over the past year of therapy, she had grown inured to Q’s shite, but this was perhaps a new level of it for her. “Amnesia,” she repeated. 

Q beamed. “Judging by the dark circles under my eyes, this seems like a bit of an opportunity for a fresh start anyway,” he said. “Past me looks overworked.” 

Dr. Sharma had been trying to get him a holiday for the past four months. Her “I see,” every time M had denied his request for leave had become steadily sharper. Now her eyes gleamed. “Amnesia,” she said, smiling wider than Q had ever seen. 

(Also on AO3)

—

“Amnesia,” M said, squinting at him from behind his desk. “Really, Q?” 

“M,” Q replied, tasting the name as if he’d just learned it. “Seems a bit funny to work for a letter, but I suppose my past self had his reasons.” He leaned back in his chair and cast his eyes around the room as if those reasons might be visible if he looked for them. 

M’s hand twitched toward the security button on his desk lamp. “You answer to the letter Q,” he pointed out. “You clearly remember some things.” 

“The name Q has silent vowels,” Q said, straight-faced. “Q-U-E-U-E. A long line in A&E is the first thing I remember experiencing, so it seemed fitting. You know, waiting for something that never seems to come gives you a lot of time to think.” 

M glared. “If this is about your leave—” 

“I am leaving, yes,” Q interrupted. “I even have the paperwork filed for Queue Smith, since apparently you lot do that here.” He quirked his eyebrows. “You still haven’t told me what I do, exactly, but I assume it’s some form of tech support, not anything crucial. Something other people have been trained in.” Like Q had been training R and X for the past six months, for instance. Specifically to deal with M’s bizarre separation anxiety. 

“You are actually one of our most valuable assets,” M gritted out, clearly aware that said valuable asset was a lying liar who was lying to him at that very moment. 

Q smiled. “What a shame I can’t remember anything, then,” he said. “No value whatsoever now. In fact, Dr. Sharma distinctly said I was as useless as a pin-pricked prophylactic, and the rest of the medical department agreed with her.” 

M’s eyes narrowed and he sat a little straighter. “Dr. Simmons would never go along with this.” 

“Dr. Simmons thought the whole thing was very novel,” Q disagreed. “In fact, he said amnesia might be under-diagnosed, particularly in injured field agents being recalled for missions.” 

M frowned. “How patient-centric of him.” 

“Oh, terribly.” Straightlaced Simmons, head of Medical, didn’t always see eye to eye with Q, but they both prioritized the health of the people under their care. M wouldn’t find anyone in-house who would challenge Sharma’s diagnosis. Now for the killing blow: “Everyone says that if I’m lucky and have a nice long rest, then I might remember some things. But who knows? Amnesia is unpredictable. I could be out of the game for good.” Q gave an innocent shrug. 

“It can be dangerous, walking around ignorant in the world,” M said.

“Maybe,” Q said. “But I got mugged while I was working here with all my memories intact, so really, nowhere is safe, is it? Might as well be unsafe in the Maldives.” Q gave M his most beatific expression. It was rather cute of M to threaten him with being killed, as though Q didn’t have a dead man’s switch for exactly that contingency. 

M gave him a long look but eventually sighed. “I’ll put you on an indefinite medical leave. Don’t do something stupid with your free time.”  

Q stood. “I’ll do whatever I please. Since that is, in fact, the point of the term ‘free time.’”  

—

Q spent five days eating take-away and playing Elden Ring in his pajamas. On the sixth day, he had enough energy to move, so he took the train and then a bus to a little town in Andalusia, dreaming of egg-and-potato fry-ups and sunny olive tree-laden views. 

Warmth. Sunshine. Red roofs and white stone buildings. An outdoor cafe where he could drink his tea and people watch. 

Down the street, a wrinkled old woman stooped down to scratch a brindled dog whose whiptail flew back and forth at the attention. Q watched them until they rounded a corner out of sight. When he brought his gaze back to his own table, Bond was sitting across from him. Shite. 

“Amnesia,” Bond said. His eyes crinkled at the corners.

Q stared him down. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” If Bond asked about a mission, Q was going to send him back to R and X for replacement corneas. 

But Bond shook his head. “You can call me James. We don’t know each other outside of work,” he said. “I thought we could change that.” Bond gave him a half-smile, somehow sheepish—different from his Target Acquired smile. His bright yellow I Heart España t-shirt was more camouflage than Q had ever seen him in. 

“Caminito del Rey has beautiful vistas,” Bond added, his blue eyes locked on Q’s. “Or I know a place with good tapas if you’d rather eat than hike.” 

This might be a work-shaped trap. But there wasn’t any tech in the Gaitanes Ravine, and yellow wasn’t the color Bond wore when he went anglerfishing. Additionally, traversing a treacherous one-meter-wide walkway carved into a rock face a hundred meters above a river sounded like it was genuinely Bond’s idea of a good time. “If we went hiking,” Q said, “it wouldn’t be efficient. I take pictures of cool bugs. I lollygag to look at spiderwebs. I get distracted by rock formations.” 

“If I wanted efficient,” Bond said, “I’d wait until you ‘got your memory back.’” He offered Q a wry tilt of his mouth. “I have it on good information that you’re currently useless, and I don’t expect we’ll need any of your skills from the office.” 

Bless the medical staff’s ability to gossip. Q exhaled and slouched a little. “You’re really here just because?” he asked.  

Bond shrugged. “We’re good at being useful together. I thought we might be good at being useless together too. If you like.” He tilted his head. 

Q stood without answering. 

Bond stood with him. His designer blue jeans stretched flatteringly around his thighs. No concealed carry. His watch wasn’t one of Q’s. He had a knife in his boot, but that was sensible enough. His t-shirt showed off tan arms criss-crossed with pale scars and a smattering of graying hair. He had a red España bucket hat tucked into his belt. 

007 on holiday. 

Q smiled. “Lead the way.” He extended his hand. 

Bond took it. In the center of a rural village steeped in machismo culture, Bond held his hand. “I have a car,” he said, and they walked, still linked at the fingers, to where Bond had parked his entirely normal Mitsubishi Mirage rental. Good god; a hatchback. Not even four-wheel drive. Bond was really giving this ‘useless’ thing a genuine effort. 

If this went well, Q would have to send 006 a basket of explosives. Rather than leaving his mugging-based amnesia up to fate, he’d rather desperately arranged for a surreptitious blow to the head from one of Six’s experts in cranial violence. He hadn’t expected that his memory loss would lead to something so lovely.  

[defrosted69]

MY Laker Star 3.5 (Huh Yunjin)

Okay this was a request from @dav1233555 that took way, WAY too long so sorry about that lol. also, this preety much answers what had happened why our mc went from Lesserafim to New Jeans

heads up, Its angsty enjoy

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Yunjin moved away from the window glass, watching the sight below her as her feet landed in the elevator. The elevator only kept her busy with her palm on the button because the stillness was so deafening. Her mind keeps replaying the memories till it deafens her. She repressed her tears, feeling the anger in her heart grow stronger. She had just watched her own happiness be chosen by someone else, and she didn't want to cry.

She was aware that all she was doing was convincing herself that your heart was with her. She wanted to think that there was love between you and her, therefore she disregarded the indicators that were in front of her face.

Perhaps there was once love between

Or was it just nostalgic love.

She hurried out of the elevator as soon as the door opened, not even caring that she was drawing stares. Her plate was already piled high with the issues facing both her own group and herself. Right now, all she needed was a safe haven where she could be herself without fear of judgment. However, there is a cost associated with celebrity.

She instinctively followed her legs to the women's restroom, where she noticed her own reflection. Her tears had dried up and formed their own consciousness, cascading down like waterfalls and making her wonder how much of her life she can still manage.

"Shit..."

The only term that could adequately characterize her current state of mind was a quiet growl. She got the impression that her life was being held back by her own transgressions, and that everything she had done up to that point had only made things worse. She was alone with herself, everything was going wrong, and it was suffocating.

Since everyone was against her, she had no one to turn to as her own barricade. There was that performance that everyone chose to pick apart and felt would shatter their self-esteem. Their defenses crumbled and their reputation was damaged. Even their own admirers doubt their ability to be idols. Everything went south after that, causing a ruckus throughout the Kpop business.

When they could not demonstrate why the Silver spoon should have been placed on an idol in the first place, people started to wonder what use it served. People started to wonder if the idols of this new generation had not experienced the same hardships as their predecessors in order to retain the motivation to keep improving and honing their profession. People started to wonder who created and who was merely handed the Silver spoons as more and more organizations appeared around..

As a performer herself, it was a major gut punch for her because, even though you are a performer, having your confidence in yourself undermined by being asked if you are truly one. It's exhausting to consider how many more people joined in to criticize you and how they nitpick all your mistakes.

While the fire was raging fiercely, they were placed on hold and forced into the basement to hide. Although their company made every effort to reduce the heat, the power of the media served as fuel to fan the flames. There are articles popping up everywhere, most of which have no connection whatsoever to the primary issue. And people change sides so quickly.

From loving them to turning against them.

From praising them to bad mouthing them. 

From being loved, to being hated. 

From their perspective, everything they do is flawed, and their words have lost significance. Nothing about them seems right to them. 

When Yunjin looked in the mirror, she could no longer see the girl who had such a deep love for both her followers and herself. Standing in front of the mirror served as a depressing reminder of the frail girl she really was—a girl who tries her hardest to improve but is never successful.

She opened the faucet and used water to clean her face, giving her hands a slight shudder. She detested seeing the shattered and sad girl in her reflection as he rubbed water over her face.

"Why... Why.. Why..."

She repeatedly cleansed and massaged her face, but no matter how many times she does so, nothing will be able to erase the anguish that is written all over her face because all she can do is let the tears fall. She can't get that grimace off her face no matter what she does. 

Making sure there would be no disturbance in this room, she wept quietly by herself in the restroom. She wanted to make sure that her personal issues didn't need to disturb others. Ultimately, this was her own issue to resolve.

She allowed her eyes to speak for a few minutes before covering her identity and the inner turmoil she was experiencing with a mask and baseball cap. She wanted to spend some alone time with herself, but as soon as she left the room, she observed that you and Haerin were holding hands and laughing joyously. 

Yunjin could tell you were happy with her because of the contented and cheerful smile on her face. Upon witnessing the person who brought her joy turn into someone else's happiness, her heart broke into a million pieces.

She feels so hurt by your happiness since it seems like all of your shared memories have vanished from her life. She hurried out of the building, looking down while clutching her headgear. She walked aside, her eyes containing another flood of tears as all she could see was the harsh concrete. She continues to feel so unwelcome in this world with every step she takes.

She did not realize it, though, that she had arrived at the park. The trees were gently swaying in the breeze. People chatting, laughing, and taking in their surroundings. She was undoubtedly in the city park.

She takes a seat beneath a wooden bench and closes her eyes, allowing her heart's story to be revealed by her recollections of the past. 

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FLASHBACK: A FEW MONTHS AGO

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"That's right Y/N. It's not just me who's in love with you..." 

As Yunjin was speaking, Kazuha was informed of his direct messages. Yunjin was already aware that she and the other members of her band had grown fond of you. particularly Kazuha. She was the first to express admiration for you, after all.

She therefore didn't want to seem conceited and ignore her friend and bandmate. Even if Kazuha is already in love with you, she preferred for her to give you a chance. She was open to letting Kazuha have fun while she was with you.  

Since everyone in her group outperformed her in every category, she was already coming to terms with the possibility that she would not even be chosen. Yunjin isn't as flexible or cute as Kazuha or Chaewon. Each of them has an incredible quality, such as her only being able to express her feelings for you in the past.

She called it a trader of nostalgia. Her only tool for winning you over is that, and even she admits that using such tactics was quite pitiful. However, all of her memories of you are in the past, and that's all she has to hold to.  

To her surprise, though, you quickly pierced her heart with a lightning bolt as you closed your phone and gripped her hand. Her pulse was pounding and swaying to the same tune—love—that she was unable to control. 

"Yunjin. I don't need anyone else but you." 

Yunjin was the happiest woman alive after hearing those words alone. She was living out her daydream. She never would have imagined that the story would become true. She wishes she could stop waking up if she was asleep and dreaming right now.

Nothing but herself could sense the love and real delight in her eyes. She was a young woman who was madly in love. She ran to put an end to her feelings and rushed to put her arm around you.  

"R-Really? You mean it?"

"Yes. I mean it." 

She had enough to rejoice over the realization of her dream with just few words. You chose to step back and offer her a smile that said a thousand words when you were both singing songs of love. And you observed that there was still some time left before nightfall and that the sky hadn't yet grown really dark.

So you set up your official date, hoping to see her grin even more and maintain it throughout the day.  

"Let's go on a date." 

"Eh? But it's getting dark and-" 

"Don't worry about it. I got this. After all, I want to see that smile of yours further Yunjin." 

Your remarks made her even redder, if she wasn't already. She was surprised to learn that your flirtatious behavior wasn't all bluster. She gains even more points because the guy she previously thought of had a flirtatious side.  

"Alright. Lead the way" 

You seized her hand and hurried across the crowded Los Angeles streets without even waiting a second. Yujin could only look at you because it seemed like everyone was commenting on the two of you.

It's been stated that when you're with someone you love, everything stops. It's been stated that when you love someone, everything else fades away and your attention is solely focused on them. 

That's what Yunjin was feeling right now. 

One youngster in particular sticks out among the throng of people; he was the one holding her hand and grinning lovingly at her. Yunjin experienced a feeling of being pampered like a princess, and everything seemed like something out of a fairytale.

Their feet stopped at a place you were both familiar with, laughing filling their ears. When they both walked into the restaurant, Yunjin's smile never faded.  

With you visible to the staff's eyes, they immediately all smiled as they know what they should know. 

"You seem known here Y/N." 

"It's my favorite go to restaurant. They make the best food around here in downtown LA." 

"I'll be the judge of that." 

The staff greeted you like you were one of their own employees, and you both laughed. She found that incident to be quite touching because it gave her the impression that you were loved and revered not only for your basketball prowess but also for your enormously compassionate heart.

She was happy that it was paying off since she knew you were always polite and that it was in your nature to be friends with everyone.  

She was a little uncomfortable to be asked who she was because she didn't know what to say. She was getting ready to be referred to as just a friend in front of everyone because she was still a little surprised that she was already your girlfriend. 

"She's my girlfriend." 

Well throw that out the window and call her beloved because with your announcement just made her land into the clouds of nine. Your smile only topped up her dreams as she wished to melt right now at the spot. 

And it continued further when the staff of the restaurant treated the place like their own world. They reserved a seat just for the two of them and even added candles to add to the romantic ambience. 

"They didn't have to go all out." 

"Trust me Jen, I didn't know it too." 

Their hearts were so satisfied with each other that they laughed together. Yunjin thought that everything was too good to be true, and she didn't want the day to end. However, it was evident from her indicators that today was indeed a great day.

She was reminded of their earlier days of simply enjoying each other's company while eating and conversing about uninteresting topics by the meal that was given to them. She appreciates the small things about you, and she's happy that they haven't changed over time. 

After dinner, there was just one more location to show her. You took her hand and led her to a spot overlooking the city without saying a word. a place you learned about while out on your own at night. There were innumerable evenings when you believed no one would ever understand you and you felt alone in the world.

Even though it was far from the city, the effort paid off because the view of the city was stunning and overwhelming once you two arrived. When Yunjin saw the splendor of the city at night, all she could do was softly gasp. The city felt livelier than it did when the sun was out, despite the time. 

"Yunjin. I hope that our hearts will be stringed together forever."

She started crying because she was unable to hold back her happiness when you spoke to her in a sincere and caring manner. She responded by giving you a hug, but all you could hear were muffled cries. Nevertheless, she was still able to speak.  

"I will. I promise to be with you.. Always... I love you" 

Truly it was a great love story that broke down many romance narrative. But that was pointed towards the past and not into the future. 

Because as time went on, our connection, which had previously blossomed, began to deteriorate every moment.

There wasn't even a hint of the smile you so desperately wanted to see on her face right now. It was like winning an award that was locked away.

Yunjin was likewise unable to locate the guy who gives her the feeling of freedom and love and keeps her up at night.  

It was as though a knot in the thread had suddenly become loose, and when they attempted to loop it up once more, it broke.

When their love for one another began to fade in their lives, they were completely unaware of it. That once-strong kindling of fire has faded, turning everything into a miserable ash that is useless on a cold winter's night.  

She found it painful to witness how everything went from being ideal to eventually becoming lost. Simply put, the gestures and spark had vanished. It hurt Yunjin especially since you weren't just a stranger standing in front of their sweetheart, who was simply a stranger they had formerly known.  

You were her friend. 

You were there all the time for her 

You were her wall when she leaped into her destiny. 

You were her once everything turned to nothing. That has completely broken her heart and undermined her self-esteem. And just when things weren't getting any worse, they did, for everyone in her group as well as for her.

That terrible performance was in no way a justification for how she feels about her intimate relationship. Her job as a performer was to take the stage and kill it. Rather, their supporters and detractors slaughtered them.  

This was supposed to be the perfect time to have your shoulder, your voice and your heart for her but where were you?

You were nowhere to be seen. 

She didn't want to get in touch with you because every game matters during the playoffs and you were in that stage. You still reach out to her even if she made the decision to keep her problems to herself. And once more her smile appeared.

But when the voice she was expecting didn't sound the same, it vanished. It had lost its loveliness. Rather, it was the concern-only voice of a friend. She realizes her partner is no longer with her. 

She shouldn't have held onto it for so long considering how long ago it vanished. She was grasping only air, no longer a rope of their affection. She couldn't have imagined losing you, which is why it was so upsetting to her.

It's because of you that she thought love was genuine. She had never experienced pure love this close to him, and she had it with you.  

Sadly, she also lost it to you. 

Because you loved her before she did, did she truly love you? Or did she just tell herself lies to make it seem and feel genuine?

You no longer made the effort or attempt to ignite the spark. You personally witnessed it. That Yunjin you saw and fell in love with then was a different Yunjin. No matter how much you wanted it to, your heart didn't scream her name. It disapproved of the notion.

In an instant, all that has transpired between you and the memories you both shared vanish in the same manner. The affection vanished. 

 

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When Yunjin opened her eyes, she had no idea that the day was coming to a close and that the sky had turned orange. She shed a tear on her left, but didn't give it any attention because she had to go back to her room with her friends.

Her members was the one thing she could always count on, no matter what challenges she encountered.  

In their worst moments, they supported one another. She wouldn't be here at all if it weren't for their support, which enabled her to overcome her personal struggles. In another universe, there's a good chance she lost it and vanished from this world.

However, because she felt the love and concern from her members, it didn't happen in this universe. For her, the fact that they remained together at this difficult time was sufficient to enable her to go on and lead a fulfilling life. Although that might not be the perfect story for her, you know what they say.  

One door opens while another shuts. All you have to do is wait for them to show themselves.

Yunjin took a deep breath and turned to face whatever lay ahead of her. Why should she give up now that she has persevered this far? She moved backward into the arms of her members, whom she might joyfully refer to as..., a slight smile spreading across her face.

her home

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[vendetta-if]

So, question about Yvette. Did she ever want to be a mother? It's definitely implied that the pregnancy was unplanned.

I'm curious if she went through with the pregnancy because Viktor was willing/wanted to raise MC, or if Yvette got cold feet after their birth.

I'm always mixed about Yvette, her choice to not be involved in MC's life was certainly selfish, but no one should be forced to become a parent, especially if the child in question will be taken care of.

From what I’ve seen so far, I think a lot of readers also didn’t really have a problem with her not wanting to be a mother because she didn’t want to, but they seemed to mostly dislike her after she humiliated MC in the store 😔 Anyway, I’ll take the chance to kind of explain more about Yvette’s line of thoughts when she found out that she was pregnant, so it’ll be a bit long.

At that time, she was not ready to become a mother and wanted to focus fully on her career. She did decide to go through with the pregnancy because Viktor begged her to keep the baby and promised that he would take care and raise the baby all by himself—he wouldn’t try to pester or get her to get involved whatsoever in the baby’s life.

And Yvette agreed to it because she loved him a lot… and she was also aware that this hidden relationship between her and Viktor was already coming to an end, especially now that she got pregnant. She knew she couldn’t keep stringing Viktor along like that, and as painful as it was for the two of them, the relationship had to come to an end.

To her, agreeing to giving birth to MC was one last grand gesture of love for Viktor before they went on their separate ways in life.

Selfishly enough—and this is not something that she would admit even to herself—she was also hoping that raising MC would kind of make it harder for Viktor to try start another serious relationship and fully move on as she already established herself as the mother of his child, and that MC would also be something for Viktor to remember her by.

Deep down, she’s still in love with Viktor and she kind of secretly held out hope that Viktor would keep waiting for her, for when her superhero career was finally at its peak and fully stable so she could potentially return to him.

I’ve touched upon this before, but I feel one of Yvette’s biggest flaws is that she just couldn’t choose and wanted to eat her cake and have it too. She kept her relationship with Viktor a secret because she didn’t want to jeopardize her career. And when that failed and she was forced to choose, she still tried to think of a way to get that back in the future.

Yes, young her was selfish and only thought of what’s best for her and what she wanted. Maybe it’s a product of her upbringing. She was born an only child to a wealthy family and if her charisma and beauty alone were not enough to charm people around her growing up, she has her Empathy power.

But I do believe that she did quite a lot of growing up and self-introspection since then, especially after the bookstore incident with MC and Viktor’s death. She is still far from perfect but she’s also not the person she was 20 years ago.

Also, ironically enough, her hope of Viktor having a hard time moving on from her because of MC turned out to be the opposite. Viktor actually moved on and got over most of his feelings for her because he was so focused and happy raising MC, making them his number one priority in life.

During the first few years after MC was born, Viktor still kept contact with her, meeting her every couple of weeks or so and during these meetings, Viktor would tell stories about MC and even showed her some baby pics. Eventually, that became less and less frequent until it finally stopped altogether as Viktor became more preoccupied with raising MC, and Yvette with her career.

[antimatterz]

reverberating ruin

blade, seele, jing yuan, yanqing, dan heng (normal and imbibitor lunae separately), kafka x gn!reader

summary: how they react when you praise them after hitting high numbers of damage.

cw: self-aware au, just a short headcanon post

enyo's note: featuring my previous or current favorite dps characters. title is the achievement unlocked when you hit 300k damage. my dan heng favorism might show in this? tagging @hiraethsdesires <3

content under the cut | masterlist

blade

it was in a boss battle that blade suddenly struck the highest number you'd ever seen from him. as you yelped in surprise, he just looked at you weirdly, as if to ask, what's the matter?

you point at the screen, which adds to his confusion only more. did he do something wrong? he couldn't imagine; he served you as he was supposed to do as your main dps.

"bladie!" you exclaimed. "you– that was insane!"

insane? what was insane?

you gushed, "i thought this damage only existed in streamers' videos. you're the best!"

he would never admit it, but his immortal heart fluttered a little when your words of praise landed upon his ears.

"i just did what i'm supposed to do," blade huffed as he folded his arms and averted his gaze away from the screen.

he tried so hard to act unaffected but your words do something to him. his mindset is void of any positivity, so the feeling is quite foreign to blade. it had been ages since he last experienced something like that.

please praise this man more often!

seele

it was just a normal battle in the overworld. nothing special, no special buffs or whatsoever. as your opponents gathered afore you on the screen. seele pariently awaited her turn before she dashed off with her insanely fast attacks.

merely a single strike, but a huge number flew across the screen. your jaw dropped and you squeaked her name in delight. seele shot you a sideways glance but continued battle, and only when every foe is down, she asked you about it.

"you did a massive amount of damage!" you gleefully told her. "i'm so proud of you, seele!"

her purple gaze widened upon your words, and she opened her mouth to say something but words didn't come out; you severely caught her off-guard with your praise.

"it's nothing," she sputtered. "it's just my duty."

she actually got shy, not something that occured a lot.

acted indifferent but was quite happy with your praise.

jing yuan

in a boss battle, he was playfully showing off without making it known to you – but yes, occasionally he liked to show off just for you because he enjoyed the way you gushed over him.

accompanied by the lightning lord, he caused a huge number to fly across the screen, making you gasp in awe.

"aeons, jing yuan," you said. "you're so strong."

he put up a humble act, hiding his smile because he knew he was strong. regardless, he loved being told so by you, which is why he tried a little harder sometimes.

"only for you," he shot you a playful wink.

continued battle even more fiercely, and while he was fully aware of the high numbers he hit, he loved to hear you praise him for it.

it was kind of like a game to him.

getting praise as he effortlessly hit numbers with more digits than you were used to. what more could he wish for? notice the satisfied smile the sleepy general wore as he fought your battles.

yanqing

the boy always tried so hard for you, never satisfied with his peformance. always eager for battle, only to be disappointed with himself when he deemed his damage unworthy.

so when you suddenly let out a squeal after he one-shot an opponent he haltsled his movements mid-battle. he gazed at you through the screen curiously.

"what?" he asked.

"yanqing!" you giggled. "did you see that?"

"see what?" he inquired, not quite getting it.

"that was a bizarre hit! you literally one-shot that dude," you chimed. "thank you, you're amazing!"

"i–" the boy began, cheeks flushing red. "it's uh, it's nothing. i'm just fulfilling my duty."

"that doesn't make it any less cool," you countered. "i'm proud of you, yanqingie. you did well."

aeons, he was so happy, but tried to play it off coolly. but after your words of praise, he tried even harder and harder, now with newfound motivation.

please praise him more often, so that he could finally feel proud of himself as well!

dan heng

honestly, you weren't sure what to expect from a free character. that couldn't be too good, right?

but dan heng proved the opposite multiple times already with numbers that reached higher and higher.

until he suddenly hit a number so high that it had you yelp in surprise upon seeing it fly across your screen; was dan heng really capable of hitting such numbers? well, apparently he was, and you were delighted.

"dan heng!" you exclaimed. "did you see that?"

"i did," he calmly replied. "what's the matter?"

"that was an insane number!" you explained. "aeons, you're amazing."

at this point dan heng's cheeks flushed a little bit, but he tried to hide it. "it's simply because you gave me a good build."

you tried to praise him, but he turned it right back towards you. that wasn't part of the plan? you got a little flustered as well.

"i just got lucky while farming for relics," you shrugged it off. secretly you just put in a lot of extra effort because you liked him, but that was your little secret.

dan heng (imbibitor lunae)

you had been pre-farming for him for quite a while, mainly to have good relics ready for him. you managed to create a build you were quite proud of and as soon as he came home, you equipped them.

beforehand you had heard great things about imbibitor lunae, and you were eager to see him in action now that he was built and leveled.

well, he instantly hit amazing numbers right off the bat and it left you speechless. you simply squealed in pure glee because ??? you just got him and he already outdid all your previous dps characters in terms of damage.

"oh my god, you're awesome," you impulsively chimed with a little too much enthusiasm. you clasped your hands over your mouth but dan heng offered you a faint smile, amused by your happiness.

"i merely do what you expect me to do," he explained. "i don't deserve your words of praise, but i am grateful regardless."

"as long as you know that i'm super happy with you," you told him with a smile. "you're a gamechanger."

you already loved dan heng in his normal form, but in his vidhadyara form he was even more amazing – you instantly had a new favorite dps, and you would make sure that he knew how happy you were with him.

kafka

when you pulled for her, you never expected her to take on the role of a dps. but from the start she hit quite some large numbers, while you thought of her as only a debuffer.

well, jokes on you, this lady is strong.

equipped with both a gun and a sword, she took down opponents with ease, and you can't help but gush over every defeat. and she knew how you reacted, shooting you a coy grin often.

you didn't even have to voice your praise; it was all over your face, your entire demeanor. and it spurred her on to do even more damage.

"you're so–" you began, but she cut you off with a smile.

"i know, darling," she said coyly. "you simply make me want to my best. you're adorable, after all."

you tried to praise her, but she threw it right back at you and you ended up being quite flustered. but secretly she loved it when you spoke so highly of her.

it went so effortlessly. and aeons, did she look good while fighting. numbers flew across the screen, leaving you stunned. well, that's kafka for you.

[theneighborhoodwatch]

interesting that sally is the one that brought eddie to the party and brought frank over to him

y'know, i was gonna answer this with a "yeah, so?" but... that fact, in combination with the fact that she became a bit of a person of interest herself in the october 13th update (albeit not to the same extent as eddie was in this update) in combination with this oddly symbolic shot from the commercial reel/holiday special:

is really making me wonder. i know back then i said that i didn't think that sally's story had much truth to it, and that at best, she was just accidentally correct about some future plot point on a more metaphorical level - but now i wonder if "sally's story is an embellished version of something she actually did experience that she's telling to sound less suspicious" carries more weight than i originally thought. y'know, like, a covert attempt to explain the unexplainable, even if only to herself. a monster, after all, is a physical thing that you can kill if need be. whatever eddie (and following this train of thought, sally) saw... not so much.

maybe... and i have no evidence for this, but maybe part of sally's animosity towards eddie is like, some subconscious resentment over the fact that for whatever reason, she doesn't feel safe to entrust anyone with the truth of what she actually saw (and furthermore, the truth that she doesn't know what she actually saw - god forbid the perfectionist be less then perfect!) like "ahhh look at this loser, i bet he wouldn't even be half as good as i am at keeping on the down low if he saw even a fraction of what i saw. no class! no tact whatsoever! why, he'd break down at the first sign of true adversity, with how accustomed to mundane labor he is!" the tragedy there is, of course, that sally does not deserve to be in a position where she feels like she has to hide something like this from her neighbors to begin with, but she doesn't have the emotional self-awareness to realize this. does that mean she led eddie to the homewarming party with the intention of exposing him to the horrors? ...it's possible, but i can't see that being compatible with this specific theory, so i'm going to set it aside for an alternate reading for someone else to come up with. either way, her approaching eddie with frank and then leaving right before eddie snaps back to reality (or rather, the layer of reality he's most accustomed to) does feel very deliberate in this reading. so many questions...

of course, to reiterate, that's all purely hypothetical. her feelings towards eddie could stem from something totally different and the screenshot above could just as easily be a visual representation of her big honkin' ego. but, like, once upon a time i thought the letters that made up the YXWVOE code were nothing, so. you never know!

[mamayura]

One of the most frustrating things about the London special for me is that the way Marinette defeated the new Butterfly didn't actually solve anything. Like, at all.

Not only did Marinette for literally no reason only care about taking her own name out of the notebook, meaning all the other dozens of crucial informations the Butterfly gathered are still in there

But also that neither Marinette nor Alix gave a damn to even try and make sure that the Butterfly won't do something like this again just in an improved and even smarter way.

The reason why Alix was alarmed in the first place was because Cerise defeated Marinette at her first attempt and had to be stopped in the nick of time by a time travel hero from going through with the wish. Marinette's identity being found was NOT the event that alarmed Alix. It was the WISH. Marinette herself barely held any relevance beyond having been the one to conveniently wear both the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculous in that night for Cerise to steal.

So all Marinette and Alix accomplished is that the Butterfly won't immediately go for the wish and Ladybug's identity again without an even better clever plan. That's it.

Cerise can still have used the rest of the summer break as prep time to find out every heros identity, especially Chat Noir's, every secret in all this, and even Marinette's identity again.

Cause again, what Cerise did "wrong" was immediately going all out. Not that she found out major information at all.

It is so unbelievably stupid to have Marinette and Alix act so brainless. At least don't praise them as the greatest and smartest heros of all time if you have them be this fucking incompetent.

Marinette doesn't even consider Chat Noir worthy of the information that a new Butterfly already exists, how smart they are, and that they would have already won at day 1 if it hadn't been for ALIX.

Every second that passes is Marinette now being willing to sacrifice Chat Noir's safety and life because she doesn't wanna have a conversation that isn't about her comfort.

Marinette herself would have been royally fucked if it hadn't been for BUNNIX and the Butterfly having made the wish, but she herself was utterly helpless.

Not to mention that Cerise barely even bothered with Maribug.

She didn't say a word. Didn't make a show out of her plan, didn't wake her up to rub it in. Nothing. She was already gone and making the wish before Marinette even woke up.

Maribug canonically has no reason to believe that the new Butterfly won't just adjust the plan and go for Chat Noir and the entire rest of the team first (that Marinette now made into targets again, lets hope her modifications of the Miraculous were safety precautions). Marinette was even explicitly written to be AWARE that whoever is underneath the Akuma mask won't remember shit about any of their interactions, so its not like Marinette has any reason to delude herself into believing the Butterfly is only after HER bc they formed this "life-altering rivalry" in battle.

The Butterfly literally barely paid Maribug any fucking mind. From Marinettes perspective, new Butterfly was on a mission and that was all the way through all they cared about. What excuse is there for Marinette to abandon everyone at the Butterfly's mercy now just because Alix is HER safety net? Especially Chat Noir who Marinette has no reason to not believe wont be the Butterfly's new target number one since they are after the wish?

Non of this adds up whatsoever. It is probably one of the worst displays of leadership and self-centeredness Marinette was ever written to act on on everyone's expense. And that says alot.

Marinette just completely abandons Chat Noir in particularly to get targeted by the new Butterfly however they please. There is no logical reason for why Marinette shouldn't expect the new Butterfly to do that beyond Marinette at this point being pretty much incapable of thinking about anyone or anything but primarily herself in her plans which makes her the worst possible person in her role, no matter how well she hits people.

They literally found HER identity at day fucking 1 and that situation being saved was entirely thanks to ALIX. Marinette herself was helpless and fucked. And now Marinette just leaves Chat Noir, Alya, and the entire rest of the team at fate's mercy for approximately 3 months of summer break because... well, I guess Madame "Ladybug will decide for the world what the truth is" hasn't authorized yet that reality is real, so she's for less than 0 reasons just being writing to think that the Butterfly must ask for her permission first to do exactly the same extremely clever and effective planning Marinette already witnessed, just that Marinette is the only one who has Bunnix privilege so everyone else will be doomed.

Well, that sure doesn't sound familiar at all. Doesn't remind me one bit of how Marinette in Kuro Neko just ignored Chat Noir's absence for who knows how long, telling herself "she selflessly allowed him vacation" instead of caring for 2 seconds about his safety, because I guess there too Marinette just decided that ShadowMoth has to ask for her permission first to have done something to Chat Noir behind her back...

... right after Ephemeral, the episode where ShadowMoth in fact did NOT ask for Maribug's girlboss permission first to have found and done something to Chat Noir behind her back.

Looks like History is predictably repeating itself in the worst way possible and Marinette continues proofing that she never learned anything. How wonderful.

I actually hope that Cerise used the summer break to just already find out about everything beforehand, besides Ladybug's identity, and just didn't act on the grand open plan yet because she did all the prepping first. Since those were the only two aspects that she would have learned to tackle last.

Sure would suck for everyone involved, especially ADRICHAT, but it might be the only way Marinette could actually start learning from her mistakes and be able to be a good hero again. With a villain that just does the obvious and smart moves instead of the writing continuing to dumb the villains down to pathetic degrees because somebody having a brain cell would be "mean" to Marinette who apparently can't consider anyone in anything anymore, no matter how obvious it should be.